Hale House Adventures

I have depression. The kind of depression that requires a doctor and medication. So yes I take medicine for depression. No I’m not depressed. There is a huge difference. I’ve experienced both profoundly. I was depressed when my grandmother died (the first death of someone close to me). I was depressed in an extremely toxic work environment. I was depressed when my fiancé died. I was depressed when my daughter was born so extremely early and missing a hand. I was depressed when my son stopped breathing at birth. All of these things reached on a soul deep level that made me depressed. Time helped heal most of these wounds, while a good fight and victory helped heal the rest. This is being depressed. Something caused my outlook to darken. Something caused my heart to break. Something made me dread the day. This was NOT depression.

Depression has no trigger to it. Sure things can make it worse but it is always there. Lurking, like the bad guy from movies, waiting to pounce. Depression doesn’t care that you have been doing great on your diet, you still aren’t skinny enough. Depression doesn’t care that your guy says he loves you, you aren’t worth it. Depression says “well you screwed that up again”. Depression sucks. It sucks the life out of you. It sucks the happiness from your environment. It sucks your drive to be and do better. Depression just sucks. And not just for the person who has it.

My mother has got to be a saint. She supported me and comforted me during the worst storm of my depression. And unfortunately, there is normally no helping the helpers. As the person suffering depression, we get drugs. And some good drugs. We get help, if and when we choose to seek it. The helpers don’t. They suffer through our grief. They stand strong in our storms. They hold us when we break. They encourage us when we feel like all is lost. My mom did all of this and more for me. I was lucky. And sometimes, I feel like she wasn’t because she had to be the rock for a ship fighting an unforgiving ocean.

And I put up one hell of a fight against having depression. Not just the disease, but the diagnosis as well. I wasn’t crazy. I didn’t need help with my emotions. I sure didn’t need anyone judging me on the way I felt about things. Judgey people have always bothered me and this was no exception. After the death of my fiancé I decided I was tired of feeling despair. I decided to seek help. I cried and cried when I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t strong enough. That I needed that help.

I got the help and medicine that I needed. It is still a daily struggle to be optimistic. It has taken years of training to be able to laugh at things that would previously create an explosion of negative emotions. And some days I struggle! Some days I don’t brush my hair because it just isn’t worth it. Luckily, those are normally the days that I don’t leave the house. It is during these periods that I withdraw from everyone and everything. It’s the time that I have to find my happiness again before I can be “normal”. But I ALWAYS know these periods are temporary. But these times are also strong.

I have never fully admitted this struggle but felt it was necessary. As I open our lives up to all of you, I realized this needed to be shared as well. Maybe some of you are struggling and need to know you aren’t alone. Maybe some of you are the helpers and haven’t heard Thank You enough (we can never say it enough). But I definitely realized you all needed to know that my absence from writing sometimes isn’t because I don’t want to, but because I am fighting a huge battle and need to be victorious before I come back. This is therapeutic for me and I love it. But on the days that loving anything is hard, I make sure my computer is off and I soak in all the unconditional love that surrounds me. Because even though people suffering from depression don’t always see it, we are all loved, valued, and treasured. We are important. We are amazing.