This is a thing depression does:
I had a really pleasant, productive day. The sun was out and I could take time to appreciate all the beauty around me. Then, late in the evening, without any warning, I got hit. Crippled by sadness and anger. I got it under control, and I’m much better … but not well by a long shot. (Whiskey would be a really bad idea right now, but it’s calling me.)
The meds help. The exercise helps. The watching what I eat and drinking gallons of water helps. I can see I time when I may overcome it (not completely, it doesn’t work like that, but enough to where the episodes are mild and short and don’t hurt me or the people I love.) I am improving: I haven’t had an ‘episode’ in over a month now. And that makes me happy.
But I lost my wife. I lost two of my children. Dozens of friends. And, man … didn’t it happen fast?
I’m staring at an international magazine that has my picture on the cover. It’s still in the plastic bag it arrived in. I can’t bring myself to open it, for fear the pages will just read “FRAUD” all over them. (Silliness)
I should delete this post, or make it private and not let anyone read it. Part of me, though … Part of me hopes it has a message that someone needs. Despite my pain, I’m still functioning, working, and creating. Life really is beautiful as well as hard. I’m going to get out from under this cloud, live, and keep moving down my road.
I didn’t lose me.