Write it out, she says.

Fine, I'll write it out, I don't expect it to help.

I'm a piece of shit.  I'm so wrapped up in my own misery that I don't think of anyone else.  I have nothing for anyone for Christmas.  NOTHING.  I gave Monica the ornament I got her already so she could have something to hang on the tree.  I drive by a fucking mall every day and I've never stopped.  I wish I could say that I never thought to, but I have, but all I want to do when I leave work is go home.  I want to go home and get wrapped up in a game and not think about anything else.  And now people are going to be disappointed in me, and me in myself even more.  My throat is already sore from crying, thanks.  I'm fucking miserable and I don't know how to not be.  Sure, I have moments and times when I'm not, but those are the exceptions.  I'm trapped in my head and I don't know how to get out.  Trapped in my own head, never thinking about anyone else.

Sorry, just noticed my desk was filthy and had to clean it off.

I don't know how to be normal.  I don't know when to go shopping or how much money that I can spend.  I only have the vaguest idea of what to get anyone.  I feel terrible.  I know I'm going to get things and I'm going to feel so shitty not having anything to give back.  I hate Christmas.  That's not true.  I love Christmas but I have gift-giving.  I never feel like what I give is enough.

Great, now I'm dizzy too.  And my pills are at home, but I probably wouldn't want to take one at work.

So there it is, that's how I feel right now.

Suicide

I can now truly understand why some depressed people consider suicide.  I mean, I always knew, but you can know something without understanding it.

Imagine you have a pain.  The pain has no physical aspect, but it hurts nonetheless.  You can't rub it, you can't put a band-aid on it.  It is a chronic pain, something you feel every day of your life.  It varies in intensity.  On a good day you hardly know it's there, and on a bad day its all you can do to get out of bed.  Some days you'll be fine and then it hits you out of the blue.  Medication may or may not work.  Therapy may or may not work.

Now imagine you've lived with this pain all your life, 20, 30, 40 years or more.  All that time, and its never gotten better.  You might try alternative methods to deal with it, smoking, alcohol, drugs, food.  It might work for you at first, but it doesn't last, and can lead to other problems, making the pain worse.  You put on a happy face for the world so no one can see how miserable you feel.  You start to feel ashamed, because you don't know why you have this pain, you don't know what's causing it, you don't know how to get rid of it.  Other people don't understand, they tell you chin up, things will get better.  They think you're just going through a rough patch, only the rough patch has been your entire life.

You finally come to a breaking point.  It doesn't matter how successful you are, or how many people love you, you just want the pain GONE.  Nothing else matters.

The pain is depression.  You can't show it to anyone, so they can see how bad it is.  They can only see your actions, which are often misinterpreted as laziness, irresponsibility, or just introvertedness.

So you start to consider suicide.  People say it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem, but when you think about it, life is temporary too.  You're not going to live forever, no one is.  And at this point you'd rather feel nothing than to keep hurting.

In this analogy, I use the word you, when I really mean me, for the most part.  This my pain, this is how I feel.  And while I am not actively considering suicide, I can understand why people do.  I can feel their pain.