Okay, I think I have to reverse the direction of my blog.
When I write about my experience with depression, my hope is that I’m not making someone sad, but that I’m giving someone like me–hope. Maybe encouragement to seek help without shame, and to fight for themselves. I also hoped that by writing about depression, the non-depressed might understand the disease. I wanted to share with others that life can go on in spite of the disease. However, I can’t do it it anymore. I have no words to explain what it feels like–or the lack of feeling which accompanies depression.
I’m not as open as I would like to think. Unless I wore a sign around my neck, the average person on the street would never guess I have cancer and it’s in remission, and that I have been diagnosed with Bipolar II and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I have circles of friends who don’t know.
I don’t carry that sign around my neck, and it isn’t my number one topic of choice if I’m shooting photos with a group of friends, or knitting dishcloths with another group…
…because I am not my defined by my depression. I am not defined by my cancer status.
Due to both of these diseases, I am who I am—along with other life experiences—good and bad.
No definition required.
I will return to the original theme of my blog, because a lot of what I have been writing no longer has a purpose–if it ever did. My decision isn’t based on any comments or blogs I’ve read. I’m simply stuck on a hamster wheel dragging myself down, and regurgitating the same words. My intent has been lost.
I can find something beautiful on even the darkest of days. It’s what I believe, it’s what keeps me alive.
No…every day isn’t full of Little Ms Happy Pants, but she can find something in each day that makes it worth the fight.
Today, I discovered music to be a better choice than silence while performing a monotonous chore such as painting walls. In particular, Elton John–his early stuff.
I’m thankful that I’m physically feeling better than I did yesterday. My new “haz-mat” respirator is a wonderful addition to my lovely painting attire. I knew all the words to the songs, and I sang–Darth Vader style. The respirator appears to be helping control my asthma which is triggered by the fumes.
I hope you find something today to make you smile.