For years I've battled depression and an eating disorder very quietly. The only person knowing how bad it can get my husband Mike. For several years now I've been very stable, with not a lot rocking my boat. I've made changes to those I'm close to because of how their negative attitudes have affected my mood. I've also been on a dosage of medicine that keeps everything in check.
Then Texas happened. While I was in TX I had something really awesome happen to me, and something really bad. I got sick. We thought it was something simple. And it has turned out to not be simple. It's not simple because what ever is making me sick has also triggered one of the worst episodes of depression I've experienced. And as much as I'd love nothing more than to load up my kindle and grab my comfort reads and hibernate I can't. I can't because I have kids who need me. Kids who rely on me to make sure they get up for school, and are picked up from football practice, and that there's food in the fridge and pantry. Because of them I get up and shower everyday, because I'm not allowed to pick them up from the HS in my pj's. I eat, because I nibble on what I'm making them.
But what has truly sucked is that those few people I have reached out to simply have a phone conversation to pull me out of my funk for just a few moments haven't reciprocated. There's no call back saying sorry I missed your call is everything ok. No response to a FB post. Nothing. Crickets.
It is then that you discover how truly alone you are. That those who you thought were your friends are really just acquaintances.
And while this relapse has sucked giant fucking elephant balls, I know that it will pass. That one day, hopefully soon, I'll not have to fight getting up. That I'll be able to sit at the computer and love my characters and be able to tell stories again.
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