I shared my poem with my husband. He liked it, it expressed alot of feelings that we have felt as a family dealing with this tragic event. My husband expressed that he was concerned that I felt responsible for my friends son’s death. I don’t feel responsible, I am sad I didn’t talk to him that day. That moment was pre depresson for me, or at least I though it was. My husband made the comment that I was suffering then but I wasn’t aware. WHAT! I asked him directly if he thought I was showing signs of my depression even before the death of this boy. I always figured that I started suffering months after that. So now I am left wondering —how long have I been screwed up? Then it begs the question when did my mind start to fail? and it also leads to — could it ever been trusted? I believe it was good at one time.
I know that maybe it doesn’t really matter but it makes me question me. It makes me embarrassed, it makes me feel very uncomfortable. I know this may be vain, but what did people think of me before. Did people think I was going crazy? Or how far in the deep end was I before I realized I needed to go to the doctor, before I knew I needed to start the meds.
Stability is a hard thing to grasp when you are suffering from depression, most of the time I am fighting it. Most days, I am trying to resist the devil and his ways. My base line is shaken. I have a base line in my head when I think I was normal. When I think I remember what it was like not to struggle. It is the place I hope to get back to. Like a person who learns to walk again after some tragic accident. One day it is my hope I get back to a life without meds. A day when I wake up from a full 8 hours sleep and felt refreshed and don’t have to pop meds to keep things undercontrol. Could cry because you are happy or sad but a fleeting sadness. To relax and feel normal– I know what is normal? What is the truth of normal?
It is a confusing day.
till next time…………..