Posted by: S. Elisabeth M. Abbott | September 28, 2015

Depression…Our Own Private Prison

Depression is so cruel. It doesn’t care if you are white, black, American, Chinese, cat lover, dog lover – it doesn’t discriminate at all. It does ruin lives. It takes a hold of your thoughts, making you miserable in your own skin. Making you doubt your dreams, wants, needs. Making you want to crawl back into bed and just stay there. Not go to your daughter’s dance recital. Or your son’s football game. Or your birthday dinner.

Yes, I have been there. I have worn the depression mantle – and I am still wearing it. Life happens. We get sick. We get married. We get divorced. We have fights with our loved ones. We lose loved ones. Some of us can’t shake the depression no matter what we try or do. We listen to people who say what they did to escape the depression prison and we are so jealous of their success. Why can’t we escape our own prison? We want to enjoy life. We want to laugh. We want to…don’t we?

I hate not having motivation to write. Not having motivation to sew and make hats or jewelry. I hate not having energy to work out with my daughter. I hate not having the get up and go and live my life. So I’ve had a couple of life changing events happen. Ok…who hasn’t? Why can’t I shake my depression prison? Live my life the way my head and heart want? Why can’t I bounce out of bed and stay going until I crawl back under the covers late at night?

I’ve tried the medication route. I’ve tried the journal route. I’ve tried the talking route. None of it worked for me. I’ve heard it has worked for other people and I see how happy they are. Why can’t I be that happy? I’ve gone thru life changing events that several close friends have gone thru and I am so jealous of their ability to stay on track and write, sew – LIVE their lives. No, I’m not saying I gave up. I didn’t. I did/do the bare amount of living that I have to.

But that’s not living.

And I’m ready to live. I’m ready to take back my life. Life is too short and I’m tired of living with the past haunting me.

Who’s with me?

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