So in a shocking development… I guess a few of you actually do read this.  I have had a few people approach me and ask, “You haven’t posted in a while, why have you stopped?”  Honestly… I really didn’t think anyone was really reading them.  I am the type of person that just assumes that anything that could possibly come out of me, isn’t of any value.

So the real reason I havent been writing?  I’ve been very depressed.  And I didn’t want that to come across in my writing.  I want to give people hope and happiness.  I want to make them laugh and lift them up.  I don’t want my sadness, my emptiness, to darken someones day.  So I stayed away to deal with it on my own.

But then I started to think about it… I didn’t start this for other people.  I honestly didn’t.  I did this for me.  To share MY life, to tell MY stories.  And writing makes me feel free and happy.  So… how can I use this?  How can I use this… feeling inside me?  How can I turn this darkness I feel… into light?

When I was 16, I went to the doctor for a normal check up and to get birth control pills.  My period was always heavy, and I would frequently have it every two weeks rather than the normal once a month for most women.  I was hoping that birth control might even me out a little, make me more regular.  Of course the doctor needed to ask me some questions before she could write me a prescription. The normal things like, “are you sexually active?”, “why are you wanting birth control?”, etc.  Part of this process was answering some questionnaires and filling out papers.  So, I answered them as honestly as I knew how. When the doctor came back in, and brought my mom with her, she sat down and said that based on our talk we had and the answers on my questionnaire, she was concerned over me having depression and wanted to talk to us about some medications that she thought might help me.

Now my first thought was, “Doc… I’m a teenager.  Arent I supposed to depressed and ‘hate my life’?  Isnt that what being a teenager is all about?”  I mean, lets face it, that’s kind of their schtick, right?  “Poor me, poor me.  Life isn’t fair.  The world is against me.  I hate myself, and the way I look.”  Its part of growing up, being anxious and insecure.

And my second thought immediately was, “I don’t need medication.”  To which I was thankful my mother wholeheartedly agreed.  My mom asked me a few questions later on, nothing serious as I remember.  In fact, I barely remember much of it.  It only sticks in my head because it felt like such a shock to me, I had never considered myself as “depressed”. I figured I was just going through the normal ebb and flow of emotions that comes from being a teenager.  And to be honest, I think I was right.

I tell you that story to tell you this one now.  And before I go any further, I do not in any way pretend to be an expert on depression.  I can’t speak as to what depression is to anyone else.  I can only speak to what it is for me.  And while I think there are aspects of depression that we can all relate to and connect with… each person has their own story, their own version of this that is unique to them.  Things that work for them, whether it be medication, therapy, sheer will power or any combination of these and a million other things.  I do not seek to minimize anyone, or anyones, feelings, struggles, or journey.  This is simply mine.

Depression is real.  It’s a *earmuffs* real bitch.  For me… its darkness.  Soul crushing… emptiness.  Wanting to care, but just not being able to.  Not wanting to get out of bed, not wanting to go outside… some days I don’t even want to wake up.  I just want to sleep forever.  But then the emptiness turns into anger.  It goes from black to red.  I HATE myself for feeling like this.  People love me.  My husband and children NEED me.  I HAVE to be better, feel better for them.  They dont deserve this in their life.  And then again… it shifts.  From anger… to despair.  From red to the color of a starless night.  There is no light.  How will I find my way out of this?  I can’t.  There is the emptiness again.  Only I am the emptiness. I am not good.  I am not worth their love.  I am nothing.  Just… nothing.

This feeling of despair probably was most prevalent after the birth of my first son.  He had moderate reflux, needed around the clock attention, my husband worked over 50 hours a week, I was a first time mommy… and I just felt like everything I was doing was wrong.  I spent nearly every moment for four months straight shirtless, covered in vomit, trying to console an infant in constant discomfort, on 30 minutes of sleep and alone.  I’m sure it would have made the strongest of people feel weak, let alone some one with post partum hormones raging through their body.

But my personal choice in this has been no medication.  No pills.  No drugs.  No pharmaceuticals. But again, that’s my choice.  I don’t mean to say that they don’t work, that you shouldnt take them, or that they’re bad.  If you want them, if you need them, please take them.  My mother has always given me great advice.  And one thing that she has taught me is that we all have the ability to choose our own happiness.  There are many facets to every situation in life, and its our choice what light we see them in.  So I make every effort to choose my happiness.  Kind of a mind over matter thing.

Again, please, this is my story.  For me, I know that depression is often a chemical imbalance.  But I am the master of my own universe.  I choose how I feel.  I tell my mind and my body what it’s going to do.  I am in control.  That is what I tell myself anyway.  So I will use every avenue at my disposal to get myself to a place of peace and happiness. Writing, talking, meditating (this usually happens right before bed, sometimes its the only way I can sleep, I have a great visualization technique if you ever want to know about it, get at me), full on bawl fests (usually in the shower and occasionally in the car if I’m alone), nature, exercise… and sometimes food.  Yeah, yeah it’s not always the healthiest of coping mechanisms but shut up and let me eat my healing spoonful of chocolate icing in peace.

But the most important tool that anyone can have in all of this, is a good support system.  My husband has been supportive of my choice to battle this without the help of medications, which makes me feel like he believes in me.  He lets me wrestle my demons the way I need to.  If I need extra time to sleep, or a moment to escape, he finds a way for me to have it.  During my post partum, I had many wonderful people willing to lend a hand.  My mother in law numerous times came to hold and cuddle Squish so that both he and I could get some sleep.  My mom… she was always there to reassure me and empower me as a mom.  That I was in fact doing what was best, I was a good mom.  She answered the phone no matter what time it was, even leaving work early to rescue me, but never making me feel like I needed to be.  My family, my friends, and my boys… they’re what keep my world turning.  They give me hope and help me keep my faith.  They are my light in the darkness.

Some days I have to tell myself… Just one more day.  You can do anything for one day.  You can do this for one more day.  And sometimes I have to tell myself again the next day, and the day after that.  Some days I am the great pretender.  My mom also is a big fan of the phrase, “Fake it, till you make it.”  Sometimes, you might even fool yourself. I know I do all the time.  And some days, I don’t even know what depression is.  My life is full of meaning and purpose.  And light.  I always look for the light.

I want to leave you with this.  And if you know where this is from, then we must be best friends and I love you.  It’s a story that I hope that you take to heart, if you ever feel yourself being pulled down by anything in your life.  Its a story about a guy in a hole.

A guy falls into a hole.  It’s very deep, the sides too steep to climb.  The man struggles for a while before someone walks by.  It’s a doctor.  The man shouts up, “Hey Doc, I fell into this hole and I can’t get out. Can you help me?”  The doctor scratches out a prescription and tosses it into the hole and walks away.  Soon another man walks by, this time a priest. “Father,” the man pleads, “I have fallen into this hole and I can’t get out. Can you help me?”  The priest writes out a prayer and drops it into the hole and continued on.  Next, a friend walks by. “Hey, Joe, I fell into this hole.  Can you help me out?”  The friend jumps into the hole.  “What are you doing?”, the man cries, “Now we are BOTH stuck in this hole!”  The friend looks at the man and says, “Yeah, but I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.”

You are not alone.  Any of you.  Not as long as I am here.  I have been in the hole.  I will help you find your way out.