***This is a fictitious account of a man named Danny who deals with Clinical Depression. Some content in this series may be triggering. If you are easily triggered, please do not read this***
Hi, my name is Danny Valentino and I am 23 years old. I live with my wife of three years but we have no children yet. Angela says that she does not want children until I get some "professional" help. I am not entirely sure what exactly she even means by that. I mean, I do feel a little sad but who would not be in my predicament? I had an amazing job as an IT specialist, but because of a crude joke I made to a fellow co-worker I got fired. Maybe I should not have made that joke to her, but then again maybe she should not have been so dang sensitive. Everyone in this world is super sensitive these days. Also, I just recently lost my loving mother to cancer about three years ago and today happens to be the anniversary of her passing. Maybe that is why I am extra sad right now. Anyways, it has been about three weeks and it seems like I cannot get out of this funk that I am in. Food does not taste right to me anymore and movies do not hold the same kind of pleasure that they once held either. I used to enjoy walks in the park with my wife, but these days all I really want to do is lay in bed all day like a beached whale. My wife keeps making these attempts to cheer me up but all they do is aggravate me. I do not intend to get upset with her. I know she means well, but I just want to be left alone with my music. I am currently listening to Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars as I ride on the bus. It is an upbeat song and I put it on my iPod because I was thinking it would lift my spirits. However, it is just driving me to become even more sad. I cannot believe how happy and energetic he seems to be. How can he be so carefree when the world is going to crap? I do not understand. I am staring down at my feet when I notice an elderly white woman looking at me. I look up at her and pause my music.
"Can I help you?" I ask while trying not to sound rude. But, I am pissed off that she would cause me to interrupt my music. She just smiles at me. I guess she is not good at reading social cues. I sigh really loudly. Hopefully, she gets the hint and decides to leave me alone.
"Is everything alright, young man?" She inquires of me. I merely nod my head and go back to listening to my music. I see her mouthing something but I just turn up my music volume. I cannot believe she does not take the hint and leave me alone. After a while, she decides to talk to someone else. She must be feeling really lonely. I am the one who should feel lonely. I have no one who truly understands me, not even my own wife. Angela thinks that I am a detriment to society and maybe I am. Maybe I should just do the world a favor and just kill myself. I think that is what I will do as soon as I get home. If I can successfully kill myself, then I will finally be at peace and be reunited with my mom. No one will care anyway and Angela will finally be free of me. I've only been a burden to her anyway. If I die, then everyone will be happy, including all of my so-called "friends" who only pretend to like me to get favors from me.
I see my stop approaching and I pull the bus cord. As the bus comes to a halt, I begin to step off the bus. The elderly woman waves at me. Stupid old hag. As I am walking home, I am considering all the ways that I can kill myself. I can hang myself on the tree in the backyard or I can drink some bleach. Or maybe I can just jump in front of a moving car. Whatever I do, it has to be quick and painless because I do not want to suffer any more than I have to. I walk into my apartment and Angela greets me with a fake smile. She is playing nice but I know deep down she wants me to die. She has Life Insurance on me so if I die, she will be rich. And happy too. Everyone will be happy without me.
"Are you alright, babe?" She asks me gently. Why is everyone asking me this today? I do not like all this attention. I just nod my head and start walking to the kitchen. My wife tells me that she is going to head to the store real quick. Perfect. This means that I will be alone for a while. Now, is my time to kill myself. When she gets back home, she will be in for a pleasant surprise. I bet it will just make her day so much better. It's actually the most loving thing I can do for my wife. It will release her of a huge burden. Didn't the Apostle Paul command husbands to "lay down their lives for their wives"? I think this means that if I am a burden to my wife, I must remove myself literally to make her happy. Her happiness is all I care about really.
Angela steps out of the apartment and makes her way down the stairs. As soon as I hear our car start-up, I open up a drawer in the kitchen. I grab the sharpest knife I can find. I think this will finally do the trick. I just have to cut my wrist deep enough to cause me to bleed out and then I'll slip into the Afterlife. Oh, blessed Afterlife. Mother, I am going to see you very soon. I put the blade to my wrist and immediately a surge of fear runs through me. What if I mess up? What if I seriously injure myself? What if I do die but then I end up in hell? Wouldn't that be worse than the hell I am in now? I do not think so. This hell couldn't be any worse. I just have to do this quickly.
As I make the first slit on my wrist and see the blood oozing from it, I feel a sense of euphoria. This was not expected. How can cutting myself feel good? This is strange. Maybe I am a freak of nature. I decide to keep cutting my arms. Oh, joy! All of a sudden, I hear my front door opening. Crap, is she already back home. As she steps inside, she yells saying that she forgot her purse. I quickly put the knife back in the drawer but then I begin feeling light-headed. I think death is coming for me now. I immediately become very happy. For the first time in a while. As I fall to the floor, I see Angela rush to my side. I do not hear anything she is saying, but I see her pick up our landline phone. Then, everything goes pitch black. I smile.
All of a sudden, I woke up in a hospital bed and see my wife standing by me crying. Why is she crying? And why am I still alive? Did I do something wrong? I am laying in a hospital bed and my arms are wrapped in gauze. This is horrible. Somehow my plan backfired. Maybe that is why Angela is crying. She is disappointed that I failed. This is just great. First, I fail at life and now I fail at killing myself. I suck at life and I am a trash human being. I am lower than dung and dumber than a rock.
"Why did you do this?" She asks me, "What were you thinking?" I just shrug my shoulders and then tell her that I do not want to live anymore because I am tired of being a burden on her. She looks genuinely surprised and tells me that I am not a burden. I do not buy it. She is supposed to say that because she needs to put on a show for the doctors and nurses here. I must admit that she is one hell of an actor. She deserves an Oscar award. Some young doctor comes into my room and introduces himself as Dr. Thomas. He tells me that since I attempted to take my life I must be admitted into their psychiatric facility on a 72-hour mandatory hold. Oh, great! My life just got a whole lot worse! First, I fail at life, then I fail at death, and now I am going to be locked away inside a nuthouse! Things could not get any worse. My wife asks to speak to Dr. Thomas outside the room and they both step out. I wonder what she is going to talk to him about. Probably about how they should keep me in there indefinitely. I become even more sad and angry at the same time.
After about five whole minutes, my wife comes back in and tells me that she will visit me every day when she can. I simply nod my head. She kisses me on the forehead and assures me that I'll be back home in no time. She says that they will just check me out and see what they can do to "help" me. Help? I do not think anything can help me anymore. Not even God Himself. Angela then grabs her purse and walks away. I begin to cry. I cannot believe what my life has become.
STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 OF THIS SERIES...
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
Check out the Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Check out the other Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
"Can I help you?" I ask while trying not to sound rude. But, I am pissed off that she would cause me to interrupt my music. She just smiles at me. I guess she is not good at reading social cues. I sigh really loudly. Hopefully, she gets the hint and decides to leave me alone.
"Is everything alright, young man?" She inquires of me. I merely nod my head and go back to listening to my music. I see her mouthing something but I just turn up my music volume. I cannot believe she does not take the hint and leave me alone. After a while, she decides to talk to someone else. She must be feeling really lonely. I am the one who should feel lonely. I have no one who truly understands me, not even my own wife. Angela thinks that I am a detriment to society and maybe I am. Maybe I should just do the world a favor and just kill myself. I think that is what I will do as soon as I get home. If I can successfully kill myself, then I will finally be at peace and be reunited with my mom. No one will care anyway and Angela will finally be free of me. I've only been a burden to her anyway. If I die, then everyone will be happy, including all of my so-called "friends" who only pretend to like me to get favors from me.
I see my stop approaching and I pull the bus cord. As the bus comes to a halt, I begin to step off the bus. The elderly woman waves at me. Stupid old hag. As I am walking home, I am considering all the ways that I can kill myself. I can hang myself on the tree in the backyard or I can drink some bleach. Or maybe I can just jump in front of a moving car. Whatever I do, it has to be quick and painless because I do not want to suffer any more than I have to. I walk into my apartment and Angela greets me with a fake smile. She is playing nice but I know deep down she wants me to die. She has Life Insurance on me so if I die, she will be rich. And happy too. Everyone will be happy without me.
"Are you alright, babe?" She asks me gently. Why is everyone asking me this today? I do not like all this attention. I just nod my head and start walking to the kitchen. My wife tells me that she is going to head to the store real quick. Perfect. This means that I will be alone for a while. Now, is my time to kill myself. When she gets back home, she will be in for a pleasant surprise. I bet it will just make her day so much better. It's actually the most loving thing I can do for my wife. It will release her of a huge burden. Didn't the Apostle Paul command husbands to "lay down their lives for their wives"? I think this means that if I am a burden to my wife, I must remove myself literally to make her happy. Her happiness is all I care about really.
Angela steps out of the apartment and makes her way down the stairs. As soon as I hear our car start-up, I open up a drawer in the kitchen. I grab the sharpest knife I can find. I think this will finally do the trick. I just have to cut my wrist deep enough to cause me to bleed out and then I'll slip into the Afterlife. Oh, blessed Afterlife. Mother, I am going to see you very soon. I put the blade to my wrist and immediately a surge of fear runs through me. What if I mess up? What if I seriously injure myself? What if I do die but then I end up in hell? Wouldn't that be worse than the hell I am in now? I do not think so. This hell couldn't be any worse. I just have to do this quickly.
As I make the first slit on my wrist and see the blood oozing from it, I feel a sense of euphoria. This was not expected. How can cutting myself feel good? This is strange. Maybe I am a freak of nature. I decide to keep cutting my arms. Oh, joy! All of a sudden, I hear my front door opening. Crap, is she already back home. As she steps inside, she yells saying that she forgot her purse. I quickly put the knife back in the drawer but then I begin feeling light-headed. I think death is coming for me now. I immediately become very happy. For the first time in a while. As I fall to the floor, I see Angela rush to my side. I do not hear anything she is saying, but I see her pick up our landline phone. Then, everything goes pitch black. I smile.
All of a sudden, I woke up in a hospital bed and see my wife standing by me crying. Why is she crying? And why am I still alive? Did I do something wrong? I am laying in a hospital bed and my arms are wrapped in gauze. This is horrible. Somehow my plan backfired. Maybe that is why Angela is crying. She is disappointed that I failed. This is just great. First, I fail at life and now I fail at killing myself. I suck at life and I am a trash human being. I am lower than dung and dumber than a rock.
"Why did you do this?" She asks me, "What were you thinking?" I just shrug my shoulders and then tell her that I do not want to live anymore because I am tired of being a burden on her. She looks genuinely surprised and tells me that I am not a burden. I do not buy it. She is supposed to say that because she needs to put on a show for the doctors and nurses here. I must admit that she is one hell of an actor. She deserves an Oscar award. Some young doctor comes into my room and introduces himself as Dr. Thomas. He tells me that since I attempted to take my life I must be admitted into their psychiatric facility on a 72-hour mandatory hold. Oh, great! My life just got a whole lot worse! First, I fail at life, then I fail at death, and now I am going to be locked away inside a nuthouse! Things could not get any worse. My wife asks to speak to Dr. Thomas outside the room and they both step out. I wonder what she is going to talk to him about. Probably about how they should keep me in there indefinitely. I become even more sad and angry at the same time.
After about five whole minutes, my wife comes back in and tells me that she will visit me every day when she can. I simply nod my head. She kisses me on the forehead and assures me that I'll be back home in no time. She says that they will just check me out and see what they can do to "help" me. Help? I do not think anything can help me anymore. Not even God Himself. Angela then grabs her purse and walks away. I begin to cry. I cannot believe what my life has become.
STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 OF THIS SERIES...
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
Check out the Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Check out the other Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
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