Yeah. I write about Depression. Not all the time (that would be miserable for all of us), but when I feel like it. Sometimes it's heartfelt, sometimes it's messy, and sometimes it's a goddam laugh riot. But I do write about it. Because it's part of who I am.
That wasn't always the case. I was, years ago, one of those classic over-achiever types who thought she could survive anything. In fact, shd did survive anything. Push it aside, power through, overcome.
Then, without knowing it, Asshole Depression sucked me under - as it always will, eventually - and I wasn't sure I'd ever emerge.
For months I lived in denial, and then I lived in misery, and then I lived on meds.
And now? Now I live very mindfully, and very cautiously - in occasional fear of being abducted by that Asshole once again. Watching my every step, hoping the bottom won't fall out.
So I write about it. Because I refuse to feel ashamed, and because I want others to know they're not alone. Mostly, because with the help of my friends (internet and otherwise), my family, and my loving and supportive Hubby, I did happen to survive this too.
My depression posts are all over this blog, starting here. Most are tagged with Asshole Depression.