Today was the memorial service of the German footballer Robert Enke, who committed suicide earlier in the week. He suffered from one of the most horrible psychological illnesses (imo) we have, depression.
I’ve never been a big football fan, but it made me very sad to learn from his decision to end his life and that he didn’t find a way out of the depression. I do know though how much he must have suffered.
Many, many years ago I suffered from a ‘mild’ version of that illness. It wasn’t just a ‘feeling down but will get over it’ moment, it was a lot worse. Quite a lot of things happened which I couldn’t really handle. I don’t want to get into details though, sorry. Anyway, I fell into a very deep hole and on one point didn’t know how to get out of it. I didn’t seek any help, didn’t let anyone near me and never spoke of my problems. It got so bad that I had the same thing in mind as many depressive people, simply walking out of this miserable life I thought I was in. Not going much into detail but I swallowed a few packs of sleeping pills (yeah, cliche, I know, but in my strange thinking back then it was the only possible way for me to get out, because I didn’t want to feel any pain). Now I can say I was lucky someone found me, although I was already unconscious. I still don’t know who it was (I didn’t leave any notes to friends who could possibly “save” me, it was a (for me) stranger who was just at the right place at the right time). The end of the story is, even after that I didn’t seek any help but managed to pull myself out of it on my own. I realized again how precious our life is, you have only one, and I started thinking about my parents, sisters and friends. My dad always said about me that I have a very strong mind and character, and that I can manage any disaster which strikes me, and that helped to get me through as well. Except a few friends, no-one from my family knows that I had this illness, and I don’t think I will ever tell them. It’s not because it might be embarrassing, but they both went through so much shit, I don’t want to burden them with more. The problem with depression is it can come back any time and kick you even harder, but I can say about myself now that I’m stable enough not to let it get too close to me again. I have a brilliant life and most important, two wonderful kids to raise. I want to see them getting older, finding their way in life and hopefully will sit in a rocking chair in front of a fireplace one day with my grandchildren on my lap.
Thanks for reading!
