The Animus of Love: Depression

By Lee A Baglin

This is not a self help book. This is a get help book.
Using the Author's own experiences and stories with mental health and relationships, the Animus of Love explores the dark stigma around suicide and the path to recovery. With a range of research, the story yields a haunting reality of the mental health crisis and the impact of substance abuse

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Arthur Baglin
• Release date: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645328714

Lee A Baglin

This is the space I'm meant to write an Author's bio, but I think you'll learn all you need by reading the book. I don't do spoilers.

Book preview

The Animus of Love

The Animus of Love

The Animus of Love

Depression

Lee Baglin

Jaimmey Wilson

Lee Arthur Baglin

Contents

Dedication

1 Prologue

2 An introduction

3 A story of love and depression

4 Suicide and survival

5 Aftermath of survival

6 Social Media and Relationships

7 Conclusions and Resolutions

References

For all those who have helped me with my journey writing this book, it wasn't easy, and I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you.

1

Prologue

I will start by saying clearly, this is not a self-help book. For those of the twenty percent of Australians suffering from some behavioural condition will know (ABS. 2018), it’s rarely that easy. I’m writing this as a get help story. It is not an easy story to tell, but it’s mine.

Those of you who have found yourself in the prison of depression may know, love can be the tunnel to your escape, or the guard who escorts you in. So my story is based on how depression and love ruled my life, and I hope that in writing this, someone may relate and find comfort that you are not alone. I hope we can contribute to a conversation that desperately needs to be had, about mental health and how our consumption of social media is impacting our relationships, our connections to loved ones, but also our connection to ourselves.

2

An introduction

I was twenty-six when I truly attempted to end my life. I had self-harmed and sabotaged myself with drugs and alcohol for most of my adult life thus far, but it was shortly after my twenty-sixth birthday, after one particularly painful and sudden break-up with my then partner, Celeste, that it seemed there was no reason left to continue. I took a freshly sharpened fourteen centimetre santoku knife with a beautifully polished oak handle and dragged it down my arm. I continued to cut across, down, tried going at my neck but I had cut through tendons in my wrist, I was barely able to grip the knife. Obviously, I was not successful in my attempt. Or maybe failing at suicide is succeeding? I don’t quite know the metric of performance when it comes to something so morbid.

That night, lying in a pool of my own blood, I struggled to pick up my phone – I had cut through tendons in both my wrists, so mobility was not easy – and opened my social media, scrolled for a bit on my now ex-partner’s page. Then I wrote a message with one word: goodbye. I sent it to a few people, one being the woman who just hours ago dumped me at a staff party in front of many of our close friends. Without any context, without any prior communication of problems, after ignoring me all night, she had embraced me and acknowledged that she will always love me. In response to my puzzled look, she spoke the words: we both know it has to end followed by I’m so sorry, I thought you knew when I stumbled backwards, realising that the engagement ring I had bought only a few days before would never be worn by her, that the children we talked of having together she would never be born. An entire future between us vanished. I tried to talk to her, to understand the why, my heart pounding, my body shaking, but she carefully evaded me and left with some of the others from the party to continue drinking at the casino. In response to this alarming snapchat message I sent, and after her attempts to call me failed, she called an ambulance. With that, Celeste, the woman who only hours ago ended our future together with but seven words, saved my own.

I begin with this story because it raises a few key details that could easily be overlooked, but I intend to discuss over the course of this short book. For a taste, to help you decide whether to keep reading, going deeper into the psyche of Lee, or to end this morbid exploration of one person’s life with mental illness, there are two points that I will explore as I tell my story and experiences.

One. My depression was tied so closely to love that the moment each relationship ended, I was plunged into despair. I lost all motivation or purpose. To be clear, there is no blame on Celeste, after reading my full story you will see that I created the