Thursday, July 24, 2008

Taking The High Road

...I don't know where this road
Is going to lead
All I know is where we've been
And what we've been through.

If we get to see tomorrow
I hope its worth all the wait
Its so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
Its so hard to say goodbye to yesterday...

Boys II Men

I bid a fond farewell to the "program" today- knowing that I'd gotten out of it all that I could (and because my insurance decided enough was enough- as if they would know). I have found myself, this week, today especially, aching to be with my children, and struggled to leave them behind this morning in order to officially discharge from the hospital. Two of my four kids have been going through pretty major separation anxiety and I know that more than ever, we need each other right now. I'm still struggling with the demons in my mind, a little frightened as I head into the horizon without the safeharbor of the controlled community I've belonged to since late May. I walked out without a lot of fanfare, knowing that the emotions for me would be almost too difficult to bear. I've taken shelter with so many troubled souls in the last few months, watching this insidious disease known as "depression" consume otherwise normal people with such disturbing and paralyzing symptoms. When you face an illness, as much as you love the friends and family who support you, you feel constantly aware that only those who've walked a mile in your shoes can possibly understand the hours of your life you spend coping with your own worst nightmare. For many people, I believe that depression is a terminal illness- and one with unbelievable pain accompanying it. The terror of waking up and feeling this pit, as Kim C. would describe, that is impossible to relieve, is incomprehensible to those who've never experienced that as their reality- where functioning is no longer possible and living is a horror filled with loneliness and despair. I do, though, also look to the end of my own tunnel and now see a light where once there was only darkness. Like the folks leading the groups at the PHP would quote, coming out of depression is like watching your hair grow- you can't see it while its happening, but one day you just wake up and the reflection staring back at you is different- more like what you were wishing for, though maybe not exactly.

I attribute my hopefulness to the support of my family, friends, and community, along with the simplest though most essential ingredient-time. Life is a process and I'm so hoping to enjoy it a lot more and with a modified definition of happiness.

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About Me

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Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States
Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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