One Very Irrational Thought

 

I never regret posting about how I deal with my depression.  If it helps just one person, then it not only helps them, it helps me.

I have my quiet days.  They are further and farther apart now that I have moved back home.  

I think because I feel more loved and accepted here.

A lot of my depression stems from my own demons in my head.  They tell me that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable.... pick any type of insult and my demons say it.

I wrote a blog entry on the night that I had a moment of irrational thought and almost committed suicide.

You can read it here ------>  Click on these words.

I still think about that moment and how desperate I was to just end it.  

People ask about my butterfly tattoo on my left forearm.

It is in my favorite color and it has a small semicolon for a body.

A butterfly is a symbol of change for me.  They are beautiful and fragile.  They can be joyful to see.  They are graceful and most have limited life spans.

We all have limited life spans.  Some of us live to be in our 100's.  That is still a limited time.

I'm glad that I didn't limit my own life span.

Depression is some ugly shit.

It can be managed but I seriously don't think that there is really a cure.

I know that I will never be completely done with it.  I am better with fighting it now.

Learn your triggers and avoid them.  

Phone or visit a friend.  You don't have to tell them why if you don't want to but it helps to just hear someone who fills the part of you where depression lays.  

Journal or just write about what you are feeling.  Keep writing until it passes.  It helps you recognize the triggers.

Love yourself.  I know it's hard because of the lies you are hearing.  You just have to find the strength to tell them to shut the fuck up.

An emotional support animal or even a plant helps.  You have to take care of them, if you aren't living, who else will do it?

Take time for yourself.  I drive to the big lake and just dip my toes in.  It doesn't matter if its cold.  It grounds me.

I also walk in cemeteries.  They are very peaceful.  I touch old headstones and try to connect.  This person is someone who was loved very much and I wonder who visits their graves now (other than me).

I paint.  I make a big messy mess and create the hell out of something.  It awakens my energy.  The colors collide and form some amazing stuff.

I also just couch potato.  Doing absolutely nothing allows me to speak to my inner self and watch some cute dudes on tv.  (haha)

To be back where my friends and family helps so much.

To be able to visit my sister and laugh until we are both crying is amazing.  I am so thankful for her.

To spend time with old friends is extremely comforting.  My old self is resurfacing and it feels great.

To make new friends is the best.  

I treasure all my relationships.

I am allowing myself to be loved.  I make no apologies for who I am and I am accepted anyway.

I love myself and this is the very key.  I love myself enough to take care of me.

Suicide is a very permanent solution to a very temporary problem.  

You are not alone.

If you would like to learn more about Project Semicolon, click here.

Project Semicolon

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255

Inside My Hurt Locker

"You eat too much."

There's a statement, huh?

Funny how such simple words can cut deep and scar long.  

I heard the words a few days ago.  In fact, my own dad said them to me.  

I still have tears just typing them.

I was excited and was looking so forward to his visit. I don't see family much and I've been working long, crazy hours.  

The visit didn't go as I had hoped or expected.

It was almost as if I was back in my childhood. A very unhappy time with two parents who fought often and harshly.  Sometimes their anger towards each other spilled over onto us kids.  In fact, I often think of my childhood as being inside of my own hurt locker.  

I grew into an adult who craves to be loved and cared for.  I grew into an adult who's unable to make a decision because she was never given the confidence.  I grew into an adult who looks in the mirror and sees her long hair making her face look fat.

I know as a reader you might be thinking that my parents were horrible people but they really weren't. Looking back, I can understand their adult lives and emotions.  Perhaps they parented the best they could.  But even with understanding, it doesn't keep my child-self from hurting.

I do catch myself wishing that I had a different childhood.  One where parents hug you and tell you that they are proud of you.  One where mom and dad hug each other and speak to each other in normal tones.  

Perhaps my dad didn't mean his words to be as hurtful as they were received.  

As a parent, I don't ever say anything to my kids that cause them to second guess who they are.  I tell them that they can choose to do or be anything that they want to be.  I never make them feel stupid for trying to help with a project.

I hope my children never have to feel like they have a hurt locker.