DRAFT TODAY, POST TOMORROW: Some posts may be in draft status until I (aka procrastinator extraordinaire) get around to posting them.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

I'm depressing, but not depressed.

I know people who deal with depression and I feel for them; it's a terrible fight.  Somehow, I've always found my way out of the wallowing very quickly.  But last night, I wrote this...

I don't think of myself as a depressed person or someone who suffers from depression.  But I find myself occasionally weeping, silently crying at night.  Thinking about all the times I've wondered why I didn't die in that car accident.  I was supposed to die.  I have suffered indescribable misery since then, increasing trials of my strength.  I just have those moments when I wish I died that day.  So I wouldn't remember the misery before.  And I wouldn't experience the misery after.

But then the moment is gone.  I am blessed.  My struggles make me look for the brightness, the lightheartedness, the good news, the fun times.

And I try to forget those dark places.  Rolling in a truck in the desert.  Unspeakable things in a bathroom, in a boarder's room, in a church--things that should not happen to little girls; the cruel things done by people who are supposed to love a little girl, in a kitchen, a bathroom, on the street.  Guilt for the girl I didn't (couldn't?) help.  And I weep silently in the dark.  And wonder...what if I died that day?

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