Depression is my own worst enemy.

Depression doesn’t have one certain face; in fact it has many faces and most of the time you don’t even know that someone is dealing with depression unless they tell you.  We don’t tell because we are ashamed we just only allow those close to us know the burden of depression.  We do carry the weight of the world on our shoulders.

I’m not like a lot of people.

I’ve made my depression and anxiety very open and have blogged about it several times. 

Without shame.

It’s part of me, a part that at times I have no control over, a part that keeps me in bed, a part that makes me cry for no reason, a part of me that orders that extra drink to feel good, a part of me that doesn’t have answers for your questions and on rare occasion the part of me that no longer wants to be here.

Let me ADD that I’d never hurt myself or my children or my family or friends.  I had a close relative commit suicide and I know it’s not even an option.  A person with depression and anxiety sometimes cannot help feeling so alone and lost.

It’s just part of me.

Do you think I ask to be this way?

Hell no.  I’d give anything to not have to deal with this burden.  It is a burden. 

A big burden that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.  Sadly depression and anxiety happens in all races and ages and I felt the awful shadow come over me at 23, after the birth of my second child.

It wasn’t just a bad day and I didn’t need more sleep.

I needed someone to understand how I felt.

How I hurt all over.  How I didn’t care about anything and to tell me why I couldn’t get out of the bed.

I reached out to my doctor and my family.

I’ve got an amazing support group.

I am thankful.

I’ve been on an assortment of medications over the years and some have worked and some have not.  About a month or so ago my medicine stopped working and I was hanging on by an unraveling piece of thread.  I really felt like I was losing my mind and I was so close to having myself committed to get my medication sorted out.

I was angry all the time.  I was yelling at everyone.  I wasn’t leaving the house.  I wasn’t eating.  I wasn’t myself.  I wasn’t Michelle. 

I was no one.  I was alone.  I was lost.  I was sad.

I needed help.

I reached out to my husband finally, who had already noticed the change in me, and then I called my doctor on Christmas Eve.

They saw me within the hour.

I talked, I cried and I bared my soul again. 

I had hope.

I saw light peeking into the darkness.

I was beginning to see a world that I wanted to be in.  A husband that I adored and children that I love more than myself.

He weaned me off those meds and started me on two new ones.  It was rough for a few days.  But I made it through with my family by my side.  I am so blessed.

Here it is January 7, 2013, a brand New Year, and I feel human again.

I feel alive.

I go back on the 22nd to talk about the new meds and how I feel.  I know that there will be crying involved but there will also be happiness because day by day I begin to feel more like myself.  It may not be much but I feel it and it makes me happy.

I want you to know that if you battle with depression and anxiety that you are not alone and you do not have to go through it alone.  Please don’t suffer.  Get the help that you need.

The help that I have received all these years has saved me.

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Laurel said…
Hugs & kisses lotsa them!!
Supermom said…
Thank you Snuggle Bunny.