The Blessing of the Internet...


 I have thought about trying my hand at writing a book.  I honestly don't think I have the patience for it nor do I have the language skills to make it much of a scientific read.  Now, I am simply wanting to blog online because at 2 o'clock in the morning, while in the depths of despair and utter turmoil and desperation... going to the library is not an option and neither is ordering from Amazon and having it delivered within the critical 2 minute window of time.  Yes, some books can be purchased for online reading, assuming you have the money and the mental stability to go that route.  Trying to find a good reason to go on with your life is an emergency and I wholeheartedly believe that being able to find relevant material instantaneously online is the answer.  I would go so far as to say that I believe some lives would have been saved in the past if only a severely depressed person had access to reading other suffers writings.  It help in immeasurable ways to read a post from a total stranger who has walked in your shoes without judging anything.  To be able to write a reply anonymously without fear of family or friends calling 911 and having you hauled away is a blessing.  How many lost souls may have reached out to another human being if only they could have done it without calling attention to their problems publicly?

Emerging from my latest episode of Severe Depression...


I am now embarking on my journey of expressing myself through the written word.  I have long made notes and made a half hearted attempt at writing a journal.  Depression has it's own clever
way of making me want to write my thoughts and then of wadding up my pages and pitching them because I don't want anyone else to read about the horrors unfolding in my head.  Hence, an incomplete and disjointed account of nothing.

I remember being 5 years old and I remember exactly where I was standing and what I was wearing at the time.  My mother was ironing bed linens in the living room.  I asked her how long it would be until I could move away from home.  She explained that it would be another 13 years until I would graduate from high school and then I would be old enough to move out as well.  I can still feel my heart sinking to my knees in despair.  Wondering how I could possibly hold on that long.  Even at such a young age, I knew that I had lived 5 years and 13 years was over twice that long and I still had a so long to hold on...my mother could have easily said it would be 1 million years until I could leave because to a child either amounts of time would seem insurmountable. When you are 5 years old and cannot fathom being able to survive for that long, something is terribly wrong in your life.  I have zero doubt that this was my very first understanding of depression because I vividly remember wanting to die, or at the very least wishing I had never been born.

I am now going on 56 years old and this latest bout of depression has been, by far, the darkest period of time I have ever had and the most personally concerning.  I have had very clear thoughts of suicide this time including where I would hang myself and an idea that stocking up on my antidepressants and some pain pills we have in the house would be a good idea.  I have been this far down before several times.  However, this time a sense of peace and calm kept entering into it and that has never happened before.  A feeling like..."I can end this pain at any time and it's ok."  A feeling of giving myself permission to not go on if it's so unbearable as to just give up at any given time without feeling like a failure.  That is a new twist on wanting out of it for me.  I never, ever would have imagined no longer being afraid to give up, I should say I would not have imagined not being overcome with guilt and shame for Guilt and Shame are my self imposed monikers and I certainly have worn them well.