Archive for September, 2017

  • It Sneaks Up On You Quick

    I last wrote here over two years ago, speaking of my depression. It’s a post I have had stand by frequently in these past two years. Even when my Super-Boss suggested I take it down because, well, what if a parent googled me?! To which I said, well that’s kind of the point. Low and behold, my Super-Boss is now a different woman two times over, and I’m still here.

    Little victories.

    Except I’m here today, right now, because of a larger victory. Or more of a realization.

    I was drifting off to sleep last night when it hit me. It was subtle at first, like dipping your toes into warm water. And then it roared in like a freight train.

    I’m not depressed anymore.

    I don’t know when it happened. It could have been a week ago, or a year ago, I’m not really sure. But I only came to the conscious awareness last night, as I was snuggled warm in my bed with the man who will be my husband, and our fattest of cats. I’m not depressed. I might even, dare I say, be happy.

    I can’t even remember the last time I could definitively say this about myself. I don’t know when the last time I could honestly say “I’m not presently depressed” would be. Probably somewhere in 2007? Or maybe there was a flash of such a time in 2012? It’s hard to say. It’s really hard to say.

    My depression has been a constant companion of mine since, well, always. I was never a happy or content child. Puberty roared it into full effect. It’s always been there, sometimes just the a general feeling of malaise that persisted for years. Sometimes a more active struggle to just stay alive. Also for years.

    And now here I am. I am thirty years old and I am just truly here on my own. Happy.