Many of you suffer from depression, like i do.
it's a daily fight, a life filled with cycles of sadness, blackness, like carrying sandbags when it is at it's worst. usually i shut down, don't talk, don't work, the real me is flattened under the living darkness. Michael, my husband, said, as does my shrink, to try writing about it, speaking out, though writing is the last thing i really want to do.
sleep. sleep is what i want to do, only that. But i can't, there is work, right? and Michael and home. shit still needs doing no matter how you feel, right? that's what drugs are for!! a nice anti depressant for breakfast!
i take it, the pill. along with my regular meds. i resent them you know.. i really do. the small handful of pills i am given daily.
Michael doles them out like a nurse on the psych ward.
That sounds mean. i mean He does it for me, cuz he loves me, he cares and he knows ignoring the pills is how i cope with the medical issues i have.
i take them. but i still hate them. maybe that's a good thing. the hate. means i'm still alive and fighting, right?
somewhere in this long, dark, tunnel i am still fighting