When I was suicidal I thought death was the answer because I saw it as an end to my pain. Now I understand that the idea that death is an end to suffering is an assumption. No one has ever come back from death to tell us what really happens after you die. There is no guarantee that death is the end of pain. And there’s no guarantee that it isn’t. But why force the issue?
I slowly began to creep out of my depression when it occurred to me that not every day is the same. When I was depressed there seemed to be no bottom to my lows. When I finally broke down and admitted how I was truly feeling to my doctor the day after I spoke with him seemed a bit different than the day before. And each day thereafter seemed slightly different from all the other days. I remember one of the worst things about depression was that each day was the same awful day or a day that was a bit worse than the previous awful day. I assumed there would be little to no change forever and I was wrong.
Now I try to remember that each day is different – some days a little worse than before; some days a little better; some days are similar to others but each day is unique. This thought keeps me looking forward to the future and away from the assumption that death must be better.