Dark Thoughts

Alexandria Hoffman
March 31, 2022

Tw: suicide

“Stand in your truth, fortified by kindness, and tell your story… you bad bitch.” - inventing Anna

Depression immobilizes you. It makes you sit in your bed all day, unable to respond to the simplest of texts. It makes it hard to take a shower, make food, and walk your dog. Every minute feels like an hour, every hour feels like a day, and every day feels like an eternity. Time moves impossibly slowly.

Anxiety lies to you. It tells you that you’ll never be good enough, that no one is really your friend, that nothing you know to be in your brain is actually true. If you go outside, someone will try to hurt you. If you continue down this career path, you’ll continue experiencing disappointment. If you don’t hear from your friend, it’s because they don’t want anything to do with you.

I like to think about depression and anxiety as these monsters that exist inside my brain. Personifying them makes them more tangible and real, more than just “thoughts.” Thoughts doesn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe what happens in my brain when I’m feeling depressed or anxious. I feel these afflictions in my body - depression making me feel heavy, anxiety making me unable to sit still.

It’s a cruel pendulum that swings back and forth.

I recently experienced the sudden passing of my grandfather. Grief is a new emotion to me, as I’ve been lucky to not have experienced much loss in my life. After one of the busiest months of my life - between rehearsals, my nonprofit, my dog, and practicing - my world came to an abrupt stop. I spent a week with my family processing our grief, attending my grandfather’s funeral, and eating an unhealthy amount of bagels. I don't know how or in what order I’m moving through the five stages of grief, but I know that I’m still moving through them.

When I was in college, I was hospitalized for suicidal ideation. That means that I was actively talking about killing myself, but didn’t have actual plans to do so. Suicidal thoughts are no stranger to me. They come, they go. I call them “the dark thoughts.” They come out when I feel powerless over a situation. They are the strongest when I drink too much alcohol. They are a regular part of my life, and I have learned to accept that. But something changed following the passing of my grandfather. Seeing my family in so much pain, I thought:

How could I have ever thought about suicide when I see how badly it would hurt my family?

I realize that suicidal ideations are a lot more complicated than this, but something clicked. Suddenly, suicide didn’t seem like something I could even consider anymore. I’m not sure if these dark thoughts are gone completely, but I think I have a new, very visceral way of pushing those dark thoughts away.