It hit me like a ton of bricks the day in early August that I realized how depressed I had become. I remember it well, it was actually frightening.
And each since day has been different. Each moment, really.
I’m fine. I’m not. I’m fine again.
I try to act fine. Try to hide the storm raging inside me.
But it is exhausting and I just can’t spend the energy to hide anymore.
I adjust my medication to help myself.
I find a therapist even though I’ve never really been a big fan of therapy. I always feel like I’m just hearing what I already know. But maybe having some 3rd party acknowledge what I already know is helpful. I am hoping this time I can also learn more coping skills and ways to know sooner that I’m getting depressed.
I have just begun to address the mess in my head and my heart and I really don’t yet know what I’m doing.
I wonder if deep down I knew much earlier that I would need help. Back in April I felt compelled to get a wrist tattoo, something that would be a constant reminder that things will be ok.
I started finding more and more motivational and happy quotes to use as my phone wallpaper and post on social media.
I don’t know if any of that was significant or merely coincidental but I hope to figure myself out more and be able to identify when I’m sinking.
I want to find out what really works for me to keep the demons at bay.
I want to be better. I want to be stronger.