I recently came across this post by The Bloggess. She's an uber famous blogger, perhaps the funniest person ever and also very real. She doesn't fake it. When things are bad, they're bad.
I'm not like that. I fake it. I try very hard to pretend or to find ways to cope, which aren't always healthy or sane or popular amongst people around me.
I wrote this post a few years back "coming out" about my issues and received a plethora of support from friends and family. It overwhelmed me and made me feel like I honestly am not alone in this extremely hard to understand battle of emotions. If you don't have it.......I'm thrilled for you. But, I also have a hard time explaining exactly what it feels like.
I recall reading Dooce's blog eons ago and have always been struck with one single sentence that she wrote.....something about.....sitting on the edge of her bed, wringing her hands, wondering how she would make it through the next 5 minutes.
I totally get that. I have felt like that many times. It started in my teen years and happens to me randomly, even on medication. I guess this is just part of the condition.
Disease? Illness? Whatever the proper term may be.
The complicated part comes in when I think about all that I have been blessed with and wrapping my head around the reality that I still suffer, despite that. I feel like a spoiled brat. It creates a cycle of self-hate because on paper, my life looks pretty good. So, why can't I just "be happy"?
One of my dearest friends and I often talk about "choosing happiness". I used to be a lot better about that than I am today. I would wake and visit with her in the morning and tell her that I was going to have a good day, regardless of what my internal struggles were.......despite what my crazy head was spinning through.
I have good days, but at 37 years old, still feel like I'm learning how to cope with the bad. My medication helps (Zoloft, if you're curious). Staying busy does, too. My husband is remarkably patient with me, often at my worst......and my 3 wonderful children are hopefully still simply under the assumption that 'mom likes to nap a lot'.
My reason for writing this today? Nothing in particular. Perhaps I just wanted to remind you all that behind this pretty picture that I draw a few days each week on the internet lies an intense struggle of depression and anxiety. And, if you ever think you may be feeling something similar, don't hesitate to get help.
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