The Art of Depression (Part 2)

I’m certain I’ve written something like this…a million times before in my blogging career; but reminders never get old. Especially when it might possibly save a life.

I’ve smiled so many times over the years my jaw and my ears ache. It was a coping mechanism. I’ve laughed, I’ve been the center of attention…the life of the party…the vixen…the rebel…the nurturer the fighter…these were my alternative methods of coping. It’s always easier to be the hero in someone else’s mess than to drown in your own.

Outside I looked as happy as any other person…but inside…inside I was crumbling like dry pastries. Today I am better….but I am not great. I could stand to gain a little bit more balance…but the truth is I don’t know if that will ever happen. Facebook has this little Memories app which allows you to see your posts from exactly the year before. When I read my thoughts….sometimes I cringe. I look at who I was just a year ago and I don’t see me…I see her. One of my alternative persons…one of my coping mechanisms. At that time the meds weren’t consistent and there had been a few changes in dosages and what not.

I recall my pregnancy in February…and that loss…and the brief moment of hope in June when I found out I was pregnant again…and the loss that followed again. I think it broke me in a million different ways. I was already broken…and that just exacerbated it. Ever since then I’ve been doing a slow mending…trying to collect my pieces and glue them neatly back together…but I think there are some things that will never come back…pieces that I can’t retrieve.

These days I’m as balanced as I’ve ever been…but I feel the shift…it’s a slow decline…but I know the drop is coming soon and it will be so abrupt I won’t be able to catch myself.The meds…they are not working as effectively as they had been. I feel it everyday…the crying spells are returning…my anxiety is on the rise…and I am beginning to feel like nothing that I do is right.

This time though…I’m taking a different approach. This time I’ve shared with my husband my thoughts and feelings…and he is showing his support. This time I’m talking with my mother….this time I’m scheduling my appointments ahead of time. This time I am being proactive. So when the moments come and I start to down myself…I can take solace in the fact that I am taking this approach. This is not something I would have previously done. Normally, I hide the symptoms…explain them away….and indulge excessively in other things so as not to acknowledge my own shortcomings. Not this time.

I hope you who are reading this…if you are battling depression…I pray you feel comforted knowing you are not alone. I hope that you find the strength to find your support. I hope you know you are loved even when depression chokes the hope from you…attempting to suffocate the attempts of life. I hope you seek your doctor or a doctor if you don’t have one. I hope you build a support structure that you can surround yourself with. Because these things…these things can be the difference between just thinking about suicide than actually committing it.

Depression and thoughts mixed together can be a lethal combination.

You the reader who might know someone who is depressed….I hope you have the courage to reach out and extend a life saver. I hope you don’t just brush that someone off like they are just hopeless. They need hope…they need to know they’re value. That can be the difference between visiting them during a bad episode than visiting them at a grave site.

Depression may not seem tangible…but it is very real. It is silent…and very deadly.

Remember that.

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