Who can tell it? Oh yeah! How selfish! The desire to die is so strong sometimes, when the life seems so unbearable that one only can think in disappear and rest. But that’s a passing feeling, that comes when I’m down in the hole of my deep depression. It will pass. I keep telling myself. Luckily I have strong beliefs and I repeat to my self that I want to go when God wants the way he wants. Not a moment before, not a moment after. I have a lot to do here. I had people who depend on me. I can’t fail them. Love makes wonders.
We are seeing everyday how millions of refugees clings to life against all odds in their endless journey from their countries in war to the desired and often denied liberty. They only think in a better life for their children, far away from hunger, bombs, and sieges. To reach their goal they endure unimaginable difficulties and even humiliations. How many of them are right now at the open air enduring the low temperatures and the bad weather without a roof to shelter them, waiting helplessly blocked by closed borders in their way to their promise land: Germany?
My own parents have been refugees of war. They were homeless and had nowhere to go, like these people. And they did it. Here we are in a new country with our comfortable lives. With what right would I get discouraged while having all what I possibly need? I have to be grateful and glad.
I feel guilty for being sad, paralysed and depressed. But I can’t help myself. And I wake up crying uncontrollably without any reason, feeling exhausted, miserable, worth for nothing. Unable to see things in their right dimension. Feeling guilty doesn’t help me at all. It’s a vicious circle. I know I have to take care of myself and wait until the storm abates. Be a little selfish. But I don’t like to be selfish in life nor in death.