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…………..



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