Meet Depression

I have depression. There I said it and the world didn’t end. Depression can make you feel like the world will end. I’m not even sure the moment I my depression began. I can tell the moment I felt more than sad. When I felt like the world would be better without me. Looking back, I can say there were maybe other moments like that throughout my life. No, I can say there were those moments.

I will never forget the first time I knew I would end my life. It wasn’t something planned. It was when the world seemed to close in on me. Nothing was going right. My marriage was falling apart, my mother and I were at each other’s throats. Those were just two things going on. I stood in the shower with the razor in my hand and just thought, “Do it.” I mean, I didn’t have a reason not to.

A Reason

I slipped and fell over suddenly and just knew that God didn’t want me to what I had planned. I told no one. It was my secret that I would take to my grave. I went about life smiling even though I was dying inside. Those were the moments I questioned my faith and God more and more. What purpose did he have for me? Why was I still here? Things didn’t get easier. They got so much harder, more marriage troubles, miscarriages, life just falling apart.

The second time I had a bottle of pills. I hid them under my mattress, and I spent weeks telling myself to just take them. I ended up in the hospital because I refused to get out of the bed. There the doctor felt I needed a little extra help. He was certain it was a depression from the miscarriages, but he saw something no one ever did. He saw behind the mask. He referred me to a therapist.

The therapist saw the depression right away, but also so more. I would love to say a few therapy sessions and things were great. They weren’t I tried again or at least planned again. Once more in the shower. This time I heard a booming voice call out stop to me. It sounded so much like my father I sat in the shower and cried. I knew I was disappointing him. I was disappointing God and myself, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

It’s Work

This time I shared what happened with my therapist. I talked with her about the past attempts and wondered if I needed to be hospitalized for it. I spent three weeks in the hospital and came out feeling better. I had new prescriptions and weekly therapy sessions.

Again, things didn’t just magically get better. I have to work at it. I have to make sure I never miss a dose of my medications, that I attend every therapy session. If I am having a grim day or feel as though I am spiraling I make sure to journal it. Journaling helps me cope with my feelings. It also helps me understand my triggers.

One thing I have learned about depression is that it is work. Hard word some days. Depression can make it difficult to get out of the bed some days. Heck, most days some months it seems. I can cry at the drop of a hat and not be able to tell you why. I seem like a crazy person with my emotions and we aren’t going to even discuss right now what it does to relationships. Depression is its own kind of hell. No two people’s depression is the same. Things that set mine off may not bother someone else. I can’t tell you the number of times I have been told to get over it. It’s not worth getting down about. Smile and everything will be just fine. You’re not even trying is one that I hear often. Guess what? I am trying and it flipping hurts to get up, smile, and go on.


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