Getting naked here... (Or possibly my most vulnerable post yet)

     Got you there, didn't I? You thought I was actually naked on here. Silly reader. I'm not famous enough to get a naked picture of me put on the internet. That would be dumb. And you would be desperate if you were trying to find one.

     By nakedness, I mean vulnerable. Filleted. Bearing my soul. Risking whatever reactions I may receive. It makes me a little nervous, not because you are reading this, dear stranger, but because people I know and worry about their opinion of me might be reading this. I guess if it really matters to them, and might cause them to have a bad opinion of me, then they aren't the type of person I want in my life, right? So, it shouldn't matter. Eventually anyone deeply immersed in my life is going to know everything about me anyway. Might as well toss it out there now. Rip off the bandaid, so to speak. 

   

 I suffer from depression. There it is, in case you didn't get that already. Some might think, "That's it? That's what you were afraid to share?" True. Depression isn't as hush-hush as it was years ago. Back when I was growing up, you didn't talk about it. It was called being blue. Most people expected you to snap out of it.  I've had it my whole life. When I was little I blamed it on my dad's abuse. I thought that if I didn't live with him, I'd be a happier person. I was always thinking of ways to run away because then I'd be happy. It kind of became my mission in life as a teenager. I wanted Prince Charming to sweep in and save me from the evil king. I just thought that if I could live anywhere else, I'd be happy. 

     It kind of transitioned into college and thinking that if I got married, I'd be happy. I wouldn't have to go back home. Then when I was married (the first time), I was always looking for the place where I'd be happy. It was right there in front of me and I didn't see it. My first husband was a great guy. He still is. He's happily married to his second wife and they've been together for over 24 years. They are perfect for each other. They did a great job of raising my oldest son, as I've said before, and they have three boys of their own. He's an amazing father. I take complete blame for my first marriage failing. It didn't matter what he did, I was never going to be happy. I didn't know how to be happy. All I knew was that somewhere out there was a place where I would be happy. And I just kept looking. 

     I "escaped" to California when my oldest was about 5. Thought I'd be happy there. Left my two oldest boys behind to be raised by my first husband because I was too self-centered to see that I only needed to stay with my family to be happy. Stupid stuff you do when your mind is not clear and you don't live in reality. Funny how now my happiest place is with my children. I never ever regret time spent with my children. I can't get enough of it.

     ANYWAY, I moved to California to seek fame and fortune and instead I found it to be a profession full of a lot of really sad, mean, wicked, etc, people. I met some really nice people but mostly they were out to help themselves and nobody else mattered. It's part of the "business." I remember standing up on Mulholland drive, overlooking the Hollywood Bowl (great place to sit and think, by the way). It was where I would go on Sundays and just sit on the hood of my car and watch the view. And think. I never went there with anyone. It was always just me. People would park up there to watch the view but they were generally with other people. I would sit and think, "What is wrong with me?" You know, my favorite mantra. "Why doesn't anyone love me?" "Why am I alone?" I'm sure I cried a few times up there by myself. Whenever I needed to think, I went for a drive. During the week I was too busy to think. Weekends were bad. If I wasn't out at a club, I was home alone watching a movie and consuming a pizza by myself. (Of course, back then my metabolism was amazing so I could eat an entire pizza and hardly gain a pound)

     Then I met my second husband. You've heard that story already. He suffered from his own issues of trying to make everyone happy and wanting everyone to like him. My issues were depression, still not diagnosed. I would fill my head full of old stories and junk and get mad over things that didn't exist or weren't important enough to get upset over. I'm sure sometimes he just stood there and thought, "What the heck is wrong with her?" Heck, I didn't even know. Either way, I knew that if we lived somewhere else we'd be happy. And maybe he thought that too. He was kind of a wandering soul also, working 4 jobs in our first three years of marriage. 

     So, searching for that place where we'd be happy, we moved to Tennessee. I loved that place. We were in our second home with three kids (my oldest still lived in Utah with my first husband and came for the usual court-ordered visitation-poor kid) and a dog or two...and a cat. And I still wasn't happy. He was never home because of his job so I was raising the kids by myself, no one to talk to except a couple of toddlers and a pre-teen I couldn't figure out. Throw in depression and anger/abandonment issues and you've got a mess of a woman sitting at home, waiting for you to return. 

     It was during those first couple of years living in TN that I learned about depression and medication, and ADD medication, and how prescription drugs can make everything better. But I never learned how to fix myself. My own head and my own issues. I figured medication would fix it all. Silly me. Silly doctors for not telling me that I needed to more than just pop a pill or two, or three. I think at one point I was on six different medications. Depression, ADD, sleep, uppers, downers, vitamins, etc. It finally reached a point after 12 years of taking medication that I looked at my handful of pills and suddenly saw my dad with all of his vitamins and drugs and thought, "I don't want to be this person." I started removing medication after medication from my life. I had taken depression medication for about 12 years and stopped those also, still not fixing my issues in my head. After a break of five or 6 years I realized that I was still not happy and went back on them. 

     I know that depression is hereditary and caused by a chemical imbalance and you can lessen the symptoms without medication by using positive affirmations. BUT, if you still carry with you the emotional issues that only exacerbate the problem, you won't be able to deal with it. Even with medication, you are still going to have to deal with what is going on in your head. Medication or no medication, personal issues are not going to go away if you don't face them, figure out what causes them, and make them go away. Sadly, it wasn't until this past year that I did just that. Before it was so much easier to just blame my dad, or my ex-husband (both of them), or my boyfriend, or whomever of the male species happened to dip in and out of my adult life. Instead of looking at them and blaming them for my issues, I needed to look in the mirror. Oh, there were some that definitely contributed to the problem, but I could have handled it much, MUCH better. I took their own issues internally, blaming myself for their problems, simply adding to my already damaged psyche. It was how my brain was trained to think and react. It was all I knew how to do.

     I'm better now, even just in the last few months. I recently released one of my biggest shackles, the biggest weight I've had on my mind and my heart, and lightened the load I've carried with me for four years. The darkness, shame, fear, guilt, anger, hurt, etc. is gone. Two years ago I sent a lengthy apology email to my ex-husband (#2), my gift to him for his birthday, releasing any guilt and regret I might have been toting around with me. Any angry feelings he may have towards me is on his shoulders now. I release them. 

     I still have my days, of course. I am on medication again but once again, if you don't fix your head medication does no good. Mondays are my worst day. I'm not sure why. Seems pretty cliche' to be blue on Monday. I don't eat well, I don't function really well. I don't go outside. I don't accomplish much except homework (the big paper is always due on Monday) and even that is a struggle. I don't feel inspired. Not even to write on here. I have to force myself to write. Maybe it's because it is my first off day after probably 7 days working. I always have Mondays off. Maybe it's because I am let down after a boring weekend, wishing I'd gone to that dance, or had a date with someone amazing. Maybe it's because I'm still looking for that one thing I think will make me happy? It's entirely possible. 

     I understand that I am the only one who can make me happy. I KNOW that. But some days I still need someone there to help. It would be better if I just left the house on Mondays and did something creative, or outdoorsy, or social. (Definitely not shopping. Not a good thing to do. It is sometimes my drug of choice. The Amazon gods are to blame for that. Dang that instant gratification thing.) This is when I wish I had someone I could call and say, "Get me out of the house." Dinner, a movie, laughing hysterically, something. I hate Mondays. I need to get out and do something that helps me forget myself, or stop listening to my head. 

   

       So, to those who suffer from depression, I understand. It sucks. It hurts. It can be debilitating. It can make even a sunny day seem a little foggy. You make stupid decisions on those days. You say things that you should never have said. You do things you would never do. You think things that you should never think. You shut yourself in. Little things are annoying. A comedy isn't funny. Music makes you cry (Do not listen to ballads, if possible). It is nearly impossible to smile. And those who have never suffered from depression do not get it. When you meet that person who does, suddenly you feel normal. You are not the only one. 

    So, you are not the only one. I'm here. Me and a million other people who have no one to talk to about it. I get it. I hate it, but it definitely get it. Get out of the house. Make new friends. Laugh hysterically. Sing. Dance. Do what makes you happy. Be creative. Write about it. Understand that you are loved. Just don't sit there and wallow in your bad mood. It won't get better. It will only get worse. 

   And repeat after me: There is nothing wrong with you. 

    Repeat as necessary. I know I do.