All of my life I have suffered with depression. It is not a constant companion, I do have breaks. But like a loyal friend who has been away too long, it finds me and makes up for lost time.
My earliest periods of gloom were at about 7 or 8 years of age. My dad worked a lot and was out of town quite a bit. My mother was ill a lot of the time. I feared that she would die. A child's fears re-enforced by surgeries and bed-rest. She didn't die, not for many many years, but I always feared it. I didn't want to be left alone. Ours was a small family.
That was all many years ago and here I am still shooing away that Black Dog of Gloom. I thought I had a handle on it. That's how it seems to happen. I feel like I'm managing okay and then I get these creeping feelings that I'm about to slip into a dark hole, and pretty soon, I'm there.
There are things that I know I should do to help myself, but most of the time I'm just too tired. This week has been a very difficult one. The Dr has put me on a new medicine for an unrelated issue and I believe that the new med is the cause of all these tears.
One thing about seeing the dark side of things, you are never disappointed. It might take a little while but sooner or later things will be bad again. Insecurities will popup, friendships will wane, children will be busy with their own lives and withdraw, the phone will cease to ring except for telemarketers and doctors appointments.
