I hate depression. I hate waking up and thinking what is the greatest thing someone could offer me this second (think vacation to Bermuda, lovely fully paid home, a brand new car, etc.) and realize that even those type of things are not bringing me any excitement, meaning some days there is nothing to cheer me up or look forward too.
It creeps up on me every so often, I take my meds and I try to think positive and not stress out, but sometimes it shows up and sometimes it’s hard to chase it away.
I think about my family, I think mine is hereditary and that makes me try all the harder to not get dragged down by sadness and emptiness.
I’m in a transitional stage right now- age, and my classes and my kids and my job and I think I think too much and then sometimes its easier to sleep than think or worry.
Don’t kid yourself, you can spend a day worrying about stupid things, it covers me and fills in every crack in my life to the point of becoming stifling. It really does. And after a few weeks of this blah- I realize there is no magic material thing that makes life better, it’s nature, it’s my kids and my husband, it’s looking forward to time out with my girlfriends, it’s pray, it’s getting lost in a book, it’s knowing things will be ok and in my case it’s keeping busy- what’s the saying idle hands are the devils tool- so are idle minds. It’s hoping my kids will never experience this, that they will have their father’s disposition and emotional well being.
It’s knowing that writing about it makes it easier to explain, because talking about it to someone who can not relate does not help.