The Big "D" and Me.

Depression. My depression. I'm sitting here staring at those words, contemplating deleting them and writing a new post about...about...I have no idea but writing about anything but that sounds way less stressful and shameful.

Yes, I feel ashamed. That's something I struggle with a lot. That's the biggest reason why it took me so damn long to reach out and get myself the help I so desperately needed. I constantly asked and criticized myself with: What on earth did you have to be depressed about? You have a great husband who is your partner in every sense of the word, a crazy, yet oh so awesome daughter, a house, food, a car, good health, great family and super friends. And still, every day I was feeling like I was treading water and every day, it was more of a struggle to keep myself afloat.

There was not and is not an exact reason for my depression. Not everyone can pinpoint why they feel the way they do. And nobody and I mean, NOBODY, wants these feelings. The feelings that they aren't good enough, that they are worthless and nobody likes them because who would? The guilt of being a bad wife, mother, friend, or other family member. Shutting yourself off, pulling away from those you love you and want to help because you just can't bear to talk to anyone. It's a vicious cycle and I let it go on for way too long.

Going to see my doctor and getting on Pristiq was one of the best things I could have done for myself. And I had to do it for myself, for my family too, but most importantly for me. I had to help myself. It took two weeks and my symptoms were fading. Telling my family and friends the truth instead of the usual "I'm fine" when they asked me what was wrong was another good thing. Making the decision that I was not going to live like that any more, knowing that I had nothing to be ashamed about and that taking care of me was not a selfish thing has made the past few months so much better and the weight on my shoulders so much lighter.

I still have my bad days. But who doesn't? What I don't have anymore, are days when I do not want to get out of bed. Days when I want to run away because I think that everyone would be better off without me around. Days when I want to hide from the world. Days when I felt so alone.

I now know that I am not the only one to have these feelings. I am not alone. I am not a bad person. And if anyone reading this has had similar feelings or the exact same feelings, you are not alone. Do what you have to do to get better. You will not regret it.