If you’ve read my previous post, Inertia you already know that I suffer from depression. I was diagnosed with depression over 10 years ago following a crippling episode of post-partum depression. I do what I can to cope, including seeing a counselor and taking medication. I have known people who suffer through it and refuse to seek treatment, but I don’t understand why. If you suffer from heart disease, you do what you doctor says to treat it, right? If you are diabetic, you control your diet and use insulin when needed, right? There’s no reason to be ashamed of asking for help when you need it. If you are one of those people who thinks depression is just mind over matter and that you can just wish it away, you can kiss my ass. That may work for some people, but I am not one of them.
The thing about depression is that it never goes away; it just waits. Even with medication and counseling, I still have peaks and valleys. This weekend I found myself at the bottom of a canyon with no idea what I was doing there. I know that eventually I will find my way out again but for now I just have to make myself get up out of bed and do something, or I won’t do anything at all. I’m lucky to have a wonderful, loving, supportive family to remind me that things are not hopeless. As Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) put it recently, “depression is a lying bastard”. It helps to have someone in your life who can help you see through the bullshit.
It also helps not to watch shows like Extreme Makeover: Home Edition when you are in a very weepy kind of mood. If you’ll excuse me, I need more Kleenex because this box is empty.