In the Still of the Night…

It’s late.

Ok…maybe not that late but it’s 11pm.

I’m still up, alone, as my husband works late and is not home until midnight.

Late for me.

But “little man” is asleep with no care in the world.

I have always had a hard time sleeping.

I really have to try hard to not call anyone this late.

I have made the mistake of calling family members at this time, for some reassurance, comfort, a kind voice, to feel safe…I don’t know.

It embarrasses my immediate family.

If you have never experienced this feeling you really can’t comprehend.

A depressive episode can masquerade as drunk dialing.

You have no idea why you are calling people but it’s just better than being by yourself no matter what people think.

How sad.

I have experienced, first hand, family members who do not understand depression as a medical issue, the same as any other medical issues.

“You should just get on with things.”

“Forge forward!”

“Pull yourself up by your bootstraps!”

“Stop living in the past!”

“Move on!”

“Get over it!”

After all, things could be worse.

But what happens when you can’t “get over it?”

Are you weaker?

Accordingly to my  family…yes.

According to me…no.

It’s really sucks that I am not in the financial position to be able to afford the nervous breakdown I so rightly deserve…but that is where I am…or was.

Breakdown?

No.

Breakthrough.

I am so absolutely tired of people who think you can just move through anxiety and depression via will power.

That just doesn’t happen.

And I have to say, although I hate this word, that’s just stupid.

And, off on a rant, anyone reading this who feels depression can be overcome by will power…you’re stupid too.

That’s like saying you can overcome cancer by sheer force of will.

You need support, counselling and maybe medication, although meds alone won’t fix anything.

It’s not as easy as just taking a pill.

If only…

I have no answers…

just hope…

and I am still awake.

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About Bee

I am a mom. I have suffered through boughts of depression, anxiety and PTSD. I have a great husband who I adore and who continually supports me. I love people and animals. I devour non fiction books. I am a foodie and I love to cook but have screwed up every one of Paula Deans dishes I have tried to make. I am now convinced it is she who can’t cook. I make my own butter and cheese but I never make my bed. I have an odd habit of speaking with a "Shrek" accent to make people laugh. I LOVE to make people laugh. I love little children. I am afraid of swings and can’t watch my own or anybody elses child…well…swing. I am convinced I have a touch of ADD because I always click on the “link” in an article which means I have read the beginning of thousands of articles but have never finished them, usually because I can’t find them again. I always wear lipstick.
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