Asshole Depression

Yeah.  I write about Depression.  Not all the time (that would be miserable for all of us), but when I feel like it.  Sometimes it's heartfelt, sometimes it's messy, and sometimes it's a goddam laugh riot.  But I do write about it.  Because it's part of who I am.

That wasn't always the case.  I was, years ago, one of those classic over-achiever types who thought she could survive anything.  In fact, shd did survive anything.  Push it aside, power through, overcome. 

Then, without knowing it, Asshole Depression sucked me under - as it always will, eventually - and I wasn't sure I'd ever emerge. 

For months I lived in denial, and then I lived in misery, and then I lived on meds. 

And now?  Now I live very mindfully, and very cautiously - in occasional fear of being abducted by that Asshole once again.  Watching my every step, hoping the bottom won't fall out. 

So I write about it.  Because I refuse to feel ashamed, and because I want others to know they're not alone. Mostly, because with the help of my friends (internet and otherwise), my family, and my loving and supportive Hubby, I did happen to survive this too.

Weird. 

My depression posts are all over this blog, starting here.  Most are tagged with Asshole Depression.