Ah sweet succulent depression, how I loathe thee. How I wish you would just curl up and die while ceasing to exist in all corners of my life. I’ve had enough of you. You exhaust me.
I was hoping it was anything but you. I’ve been finding excuses for weeks. The weather, me being sick, Cody being gone, the stubbornness of my resident three year old, my period. But all those things came and went and I was still left feeling like a sack of beaten potatoes.
So I got help. It wasn’t easy getting help with the fear that they would keep me in the back of my mind. I came awfully close to what could only be called a panic attack when I saw the locked door next to the Psychiatric Intervention Unit. They promised they wouldn’t keep me, and I agreed to a new medication and regular counseling.
I know too many people who think depression is a cop out, a choice, an excuse or a justification for laziness. I know because I used to be one of those people.
For me, depression is a real, live, all consuming monster that would gladly eat me alive if I let it. But I refuse to let it. I am going to kick depression’s black inky rear. I am not going to let it define me, I am not going to let it win. I have too many things to fight for, to live for.
So if you’ll please excuse me, I’m going to be putting myself back together for a bit. Thankfully Craig over at Puntabulous has a tasty bit of the me I’m trying to put back together.
So please, don’t dwell here, I’ll be fine, really. Head on over to Puntabulous and show that little Star Wars geek that I am the true queen of all things baked and cream filled.
Because here at moosh in indy, I’m all about focusing on the good, and taking down any brownie loving fruits in my way.