Keep Crawling

I have been trying to crawl out of a depression. Or as my mom likes to call it “a funk”. I think she feels like depression sounds too upsetting and like something that is broke beyond repair. It’s one more thing that I will struggle with for the rest of my life because there is no cure. She is right. I am broken. I will never be fully repaired. I will always suffer from depression. I like to think of it this way. Depression is every negative thought I have voiced inside my head. Recently that voice has been louder than almost every other voice in my head. I have done everything I could think of to try to help like going on walks, spending time with my son, going on dates with my husband, playing with friends, seeing one of my counselors, focusing on the happy in my post, taking time to color and read my new books, and even turned in my resignation. I finally got in to see my psychiatrist who adjusted my medications and wrote me a referral for yet another therapist.
It is only after all of these things that I am starting to feel myself making progress. I’m not drowning. I am finally starting to realize I am not going to drown. It’s not much…but it’s a start.
It’s been bad. I would love to say the worst is over. I hope it is. I hope that the combination of all the things I have done are actually going to help. I also know that this is also a matter of time. It cannot be rushed. All I can do is pack it’s bags, leave them by the door, and hope that my depression can take the hint.

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