So I haven’t posted here in several months. It’s been hard to write about my depression, knowing I post links to my blogs on Facebook where my friends can read them. What if they judge me for being an idiot? What if they look down upon me for my life choices? What if, what if, what if?
Logically, I know my real friends won’t judge me or look down on me for having a mental illness. But it’s still hard to truly believe that. Depression lies. But the lies are so believable.
Winter, I think, is the hardest for me to deal with. It’s cold, often wet and I hate being confined… in sweaters, coats, socks or indoors. Not that I go outdoors much when it’s warmer, but it’s not god-awful cold if I choose to.
Mom thinks Christmas is my worst time. Perhaps she’s right, though I could not for the life of me tell you why the Christmas season puts me in a funk. But Christmas is over now and I still haven’t “snapped out of it.”
It’s been a year now since my big break down where I confessed to my parents that I sometimes thought it would be easier if I weren’t here anymore. That’s what scared them into forcing me to seek help, and I’m grateful they did, but I’m not sure that help is working. I’m not as bad off as I was last year though, so maybe it’s working a little.
I have been on the verge of panic attacks twice this week, but have managed to quash them before they became full blown attacks. Go me. I should be celebrating these accomplishments, instead of wondering when the next attack will come.
Depression lies. I just wish I wasn’t so gullible.