I’m too good for depression to keep knocking me down. I have been dealing with this bitch of an opponent since being a teenager and I’m sick of her. I’ve come to view my depression as a constant companion – someone that I always had to make room for in my life. She has an identity of her own and when she wants to be heard, she gets heard.
Sometimes, she seems to disappear and my life seems almost normal and I start to believe that I can live my life the way I want to. And other times, the medications I take keep her quiet begin working and they allow me the freedom to pursue my happiness and dreams. And the time that I spend in therapy and other self care activities sustains me enough to keep her hidden deep enough that I am actually enjoying life.
But she’s never gone. She’s always there. Waiting for a chance to come out again and flex her strength and show me who’s really in charge. I hold my breath wondering when she will strike again and hope that I’m strong enough to withstand her next attack.
I’m really too good for this shit. But this shit is depression. This shit is my life.