A Long Sad Month

Drawing courtesy of GollyGForce on Flickr

I've been away for more than a month...partly because I haven't read a single book...not one. Not even one to my son. Why? Because I was in the grips of a deep and severe depression. I have a looooong history of dealing with mental illness and depression. Goes all the way back to my early childhood. I can't pinpoint exactly when but it goes back further than when I actually knew what depression was. I know it goes to at least 4th or 3rd grade (same age as my son currently is). 

I don't apologize for being away. I don't apologize for not reading.  My days of beating myself up for something that is not within my control are long gone. I'm at an age now where even though I'm so tired and weary from it I know that I can fight my way to the surface and be as "normal" as I can get. I haven't fully broken free but I'm experiencing the relieving gulps of occasional fresh air. 

I've come a long way from my teenage years where everyday I contemplated suicide and would cut myself just to function. My days of self harm are so far behind me it seems like a life time ago...and yet I can never fully shake off the shackles of depression. I can go for months being "normal"...then bam it is like I've walked too far and I'm hauled back on my ass as I've stretched the limits of those shackles. Sometimes it is only a day or two....sometimes it is a month or two. But I'm binded to this killer that makes it hard to go on.

Since having my son and stepdaughter I've noticed the biggest changes. I live for them. I live because of them
. If it wasn't for them I probably wouldn't struggle through. I wouldn't see that there is something worth living for. That there are people worth loving and living for.  Suicidal thoughts are rare and only come with the most manic of episodes but even then I fight. Why? My children. I live for them and therefore I can now live for me.