Our Generation has had no Great war, no Great Depression. Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives.
My relationship with depression has been the longest term relationship that I’ve ever had.
I think we’ve been together for 20 years almost. Wow, isn’t that like, the Prozac anniversary?
We commune and argue and separate and return predictably to each other like co-dependent lovers:
Toxic, but intertwined at the cellular level.
I will never be one of those people who decides that because “I’m feeling well, I’m quitting my meds.”
It’s too predictable and precarious a thought to entertain….for me. I’ve seen that train derail enough through family members.
Depression is a constant, albeit unwanted familiar but it reminds me of strength and fortitude.
Because I’ve worked to never let it stop me, I feel that this is a triumph of sorts.
I refuse to give in to the idea that giving up is somehow an option. That’s a ridiculous thought to me.
I’m in a bout right now, so I’m reading poetry and literature, going for walks, talking to my wife, the stuff that’s helpful for me.
Wishing you all good things in your journey, monkiss
“Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.”