Why is it so scary...

...to talk about depression?  It is something that I have that feels like it's been a deep, dark secret of mine.  YEARS and years I have been keeping this awful secret because no one could possibly understand and would think me silly for feeling these actual feelings of heartache. Keeping something like this secret just feeds upon the depressed feelings and until recently, I have never felt so low, so worthless, so ugly and so not needed.

Clinical depression is as much of an illness as asthma, hypothyroidism (I had that and was able to surgically remove the bad thyroid, can't do it very easily with messed up chemicals), arthritis, etc. At least that's how I've decided to look at it.

My lowest depressed state was a couple of weeks ago. I called my home teachers (priesthood holders in my Church) and asked them to come over and give me a priesthood blessing.  The reason?  I felt like Satan has been in my head and the feelings of absolute desperation and loneliness and worthlessness were at their peak and I could not get away from these feelings. My heart knew they couldn't be true, but my head was continuously disagreeing and winning the argument.  I had even gone to my doctor to up my dosage of "happy pills," which seemed to take the edge off, but they couldn't get me out of my head and I was absolutely convinced that I had no purpose here on earth other than to be an aunt to OTHER kids (not my own) and to be an assistant to my boss who didn't seem to need me any longer. I felt like my sisters had their own families and didn't need to worry about me (I wouldn't ever ask them to). I felt like my Church didn't have any use for a single, 40-year old woman in a family ward and didn't seem to miss me when I didn't go to Church or came home early. Friends had their own families to enjoy/worry about and some single friends recently found new boyfriends. Who wants to hang out with your girlfriends when you have a wonderful guy to dote on you?

I was left alone and felt like I was the only person in the world who cared about me.  And that's the kicker.  I didn't care about myself.  I LOATHED myself.  I wished a great illness upon myself so someone else would HAVE to worry about me.

That's not normal and certainly not healthy.

My blessing is a private matter between me and the Lord, but He said some wonderful things in it that lifted my soul and filled my being with warmth and truth and LIGHT.  I went to bed that night for the first time in what felt like MONTHS with a light heart and a desire to get up in the morning.

I was able to spend some time with a majority of my family in Utah. That also "filled my well" so to speak and helped alleviate some of these awful feelings.

I signed up to audition for a local choral group next week. Singing was my favorite thing to do my entire life, and yet lately I have found myself not even singing to the radio by myself in the car. Auditioning for and hopefully making this choral group will get me to sing even if I don't wanna, and it will help me to get out of my head more as well as meet new people.

The piano was my favorite thing to turn to when I was mad or sad or glad. I don't sit and play anymore and haven't for quite a long time.  I have set a goal to learn a new song on the piano. I haven't had piano lessons in years and years and haven't had to challenge myself to learn a song for a very long time. It's time for challenges.

I am attending my very first Weight Watchers meeting tonight. I have never done WW, but I'm excited to try this way of eating and am excited I get to now see my very best childhood friend every week because we are going together.

I kinda think I'm even excited to get on that blasted treadmill.  Okay. That was a lie.  I guess I figured if I wrote it out and publicly declared it, it would become truth.  Maybe someday.  Just not right now. I gotta do it. I just don't wanna. That is the absolute truth.

One step at a time...