I Can’t Breathe

*Trigger warning: Borderline Personality Disorder- depression, anxiety and suicide ideation.*

My heart is heavy and I can actually feel every beat in my throat, so much so that it is hard to swallow. A bead of sweat drops down my forehead and the saltiness stings my eye. It’s happening; this depression sits upon me like a four ton African elephant. I tell my mind to let my body breathe but each breath is more shallow than the next. ‘In and out,’ I say, ‘breathe deep.’ But the air doesn’t come and I can feel my depression and anxiety wrap around me like a sturdy noose.

The rope of my mental illness is cutting deeply into my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. But mental illness doesn’t care and it doesn’t hear my cries. No one does. I try to get my fingertips between the rope and my neck but it’s no use because the rope just keeps getting tighter.

I have to really try to break free, to loosen this rope. I don’t want to do what I know will break me free from this restraint. I have to tell someone I am feeling this way. I have to be honest when people ask, ‘how are you?’

I make up my mind and know that I have to ask for help. Then someone asks, ‘how are you?’ My response, ‘I’m fine.’ And with that lie, the mental illness crushes me and takes my last breath.

Until next time,

Allison

If you need to talk to someone about suicide, please text 741741