That’s the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it’s impossible to ever see the end. The fog is like a cage without a key. ~ Elizabeth Wurtzel
So, you’re back, you old bastard. My lifelong bullying, abusive companion; I had thought that I had successfully put you at arm’s length, put you where I could keep an eye on you without letting you get to me too much. But now here you are, back in my head again, twisting around my thoughts, undermining my relationships, eroding my self-worth. Don’t be surprised when I fail to break out the ‘Welcome Home’ champagne.
All my life, for as long as I can remember, you’ve haunted me. You saw the door created by genetic predisposition, opened by circumstance, and you came in and made yourself at home. I WAS A CHILD. No child deserves to feel that way, not ever. You took away the happy childhood that I should have had, and replaced so much of it with anger and hurt and fear. I will never forgive you for that.
You cast a dark pall over my youth, and made my young adulthood a terrifying struggle to become healthy. There are entire years of my life that I don’t remember, thanks to you. My time as a young bride, living in an exciting new city, should have been spent going out with my handsome husband, having adventures, traveling. Instead, I spent that time going to doctors, adjusting medication, and sobbing brokenly on my Loving Husband’s shoulder, too anxious and raw to leave the apartment. And I’ll never forgive you for that, either.
But then I beat you. I kicked you out. I shut the door. I knew that you were waiting on the door mat, I heard you knocking and calling to me. But for years — YEARS — I managed without you. I lived my life, I had adventures, I made wonderful friends; all things that you had denied me for so long.
And now, somehow, you’ve found a way back inside. How? I don’t know yet. I heard you knocking after my baby was born, but still the locks on that door held fast. Did I leave a window cracked? Maybe the locks finally gave way? I don’t know. But here you are, stealing my life again.
It’s different this time, though. Because now I have my son. I may lack the will to fight you for my own sake, but for his? I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THIS CHILD’S MOTHER FROM HIM. I will not let him grow up with a mother who is distant, unloving, so wrapped up in her own pain that she can’t care for him properly. I will fight you with every scrap of strength that I possess, with every tool and resource at my disposal, for his sake.
And if you think to completely defeat me, to kill me, as you came so close to doing all those years ago? Well. You couldn’t kill me then, and you certainly won’t kill me now that I’ve got something so very important to live for.
My son will have his mother. And you’ll be out on the street again. You’ll find that I’m much stronger now than I was when I was three, and thirteen, and twenty-one. You might just want to leave now, before the butt-kicking begins.
You know where the door is.
(To my beloved readers: I’m going through some tough times at the moment. In an effort to keep this blog active, I’m going to have to cut down significantly on reading other blogs. I’m just finding it too overwhelming to try reading all the wonderful content that you put out there every day, and comment on it, and also create my own content. Therefore, to ease the pressure, I’m going to focus on my own writing and on my Facebook page. I’ll try to drop in from time to time, to remind you of how very much I love you, but it will be much less frequent than it had been. Thanks for sticking by me. You guys are the very best. ~ Kathy xoxo)
All photos courtesy of stock.xchng at www.sxc.hu