Depression is like the ocean. A riptide. Dangerous currents that want to drag you under even when you can still see the shore. That shore may be within swimming distance but it might as well be in another world. That’s what depression is.
A couple weeks ago, we saw suicide hit the news again and I thought about blogging then. It’s a subject that’s always close to me. It’s my lifelong companion. My truest friend. I used to blog about funny things, though. I used to be funny. I didn’t want to blog sadness anymore. I wanted to make you laugh. So I didn’t blog.
I guess one thing that my children may never know is the hardest thing I have ever done is stay alive for them. They have seen me work, sometimes more than one job at a time. They have seen me prepare meals, wash their clothes, run around trying to find what they’ve lost. They’ve seen me mourn, they’ve seen me struggle, they’ve seen me tired.
They’ve never seen me stare at a bottle of pills. They’ve never seen me daydream about turning the wheel when I’m driving alone and the perfect drop off appears. They don’t know that in my mind there is such a thing as the perfect drop off.
I don’t want to be this person.
I want to be happy.
I want to be carefree.
My happiest moments are with my babies. But they are growing up.
My mom can no longer carry on a conversation with me. My dad is dying.
I’m just so tired.
My ex and I briefly tried to get back together. See, things were confusing. It’s hard when that person is still your best friend, or supposed to be. He was telling someone else everything he was telling me. He was scheduling vacations and applying for jobs 1,000 miles away. He was promising to move if only she would stay. He was making plans that would effect our children and I was sitting here blindly letting our child think we were becoming a family again.
I don’t think that I can forgive myself for that. I should have known better.
He will be so mad at me for saying that. He never wanted me to air the dirty laundry. I didn’t want to either but our reasons were different. I wanted to be mature and also, I was embarrassed. He didn’t want dark actions brought to light.
Depression is a black cloud. It’s a swarm of bees. It’s loud. It gets in your ear and it just. won’t. stop. It tells you that this is it. This is all it will ever be. You, always chasing things that fly away. You, getting the courage to leave and those little mosquitos coming back for another round of blood. You being everything. The ripest peach that they can’t stop taking bites of and the bruised one that is no longer appealing.
Depression tells you that it’s okay if you finally just go to sleep.
What I really wanted to blog when suicide hit the news was different then. I kept reading comments about how suicide is selfish. I kept thinking that survivors were reading that and they were reading painful lies.
I’ll say again what I said before. My children will never know that the hardest thing I have ever done for them is stay alive.
If someone you love lost their battle, that decision was gut wrenching and agonizing and not fully thought out. That decision was coated in a dust of grief and pain and disillusion. That decision would not have stood up in a court of law. That decision was breathless. That decision might have been a weakness but I can promise you that it was one out of a million moments of inhuman strength.
I added a new medication to my regimen in hopes of getting my fibromyalgia under control. In doing so, I have noticed the suicidal thoughts creeping back in after months of sitting in the light. I will be diligent in having my meds adjusted again until I’m back in my sweet spot. I will do it for my kids. I only wish that I was doing it for me.
“Depression is living in a body that fights to survive with a mind that tries to die.” — unknown
Depression is your friendly, funny, 40 something soccer mom who loves Pinterest and Krogering.
Depression is someone just like me.