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Every time I see my story told in my head, it ends the same.
The awful stuff still happens.
I still end up here.

Dammit, I want to edit it so that stuff doesn’t happen.  Or even edit it so that I’m over it.

But it always happens. I end up here – angry and depressed and impatient not to be.  It’s been 21 months.


I am trying to remember Cheryl Strayed’s advice, including “This is not ‘how your story ends.’ It’s simply where it takes a turn you didn’t expect.”

I certainly never expected to be here. I never expected to not have a 25th anniversary party because it would be embarrassingly poorly attended. I never expected to be pitied and avoided.  I didn’t expect to be the crazy person, alone in her own head.

This stuff is all very hard to accept, but I am trying. Trying, but I am tired.




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From James Gordon’s Unstuck: your guide to the seven-stage journey out of depression

Tasks that were once routine are now ordeals.

[She] lost the sense of pleasure in her life and interest in what once absorbed her.

It has astounded me how big some truly small tasks seem to be. Just thinking of cleaning the bathroom is exhausting, and I used to do it nearly effortlessly several times a week.  I wouldn’t have understood this task-as-ordeal thing without actually experiencing it.

There is very little pleasure in the life of a depressed person.  It is so rare to really enjoy something. That makes the days long.


There is every reason for [her] to be depressed. The life she’s been living is no longer serving her.

This woman was living an admirable life, but she was ruled by the expectations of others, and by her own harsh self-judgement and it wasn’t working for her anymore. I try to recall my previous life and I can see some ways that it was too small for me but I didn’t see a way to make it larger.


Depression can be a call to transformation, a catalyst to deeper self-knowledge and to a richer experience of who we are, the beginning of a journey toward healing and wholeness.

Gordon’s assertation that depression is more of an opportunity than a disease is rare, and is more hopeful than the mainstream views of depression. He believes that depression is what forces us to face things and make changes and move on in a different plane of life.

Depression almost always brings with it – along with the sense of loss and inadequacy, of gloom and uncertainty – a feeling of immobility, of “stuckness.” It feels as if we’ve broken down, alone and lonely, in some dismal, charmless backwater that no one would every choose to visit.

The beginning of the end of depression comes when we recognize this place, and see it not as the end, but as the beginning, a starting point for the journey through and beyond depression, confusion, and despair, toward wholeness, healing, and delight.

This uncertain, challenging journey is, I believe, the life-defining path that leads us to who we really are, who we are meant to be.





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Quoting from Hyperbole’s blog post:

…trying to use willpower to overcome the apathetic sort of sadness that accompanies depression is like a person with no arms trying to punch themselves until their hands grow back.  A fundamental component of the plan is missing and it isn’t going to work.


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It takes patience, medication, and a tenacious resolve to climb out of the pit. And the cruelest thing of all is that it can rob you of almost everything you need to fight it.






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People keep saying that they’re praying for us/me.  I find it hard to accept.  If this is what I feel like while people are praying… 

Well, apparently I’m just not in a good place.  It seems self-absorbed to be so desperately depressed when others are actually grieving, but it is still what’s going on for me.  I spend a lot of time just trying not to lose it.

I wish that I could be strong and supportive for Mr. Swiv.
I wish that I could be always smiling like Martha. I want to laugh often and easily like Colette. I wish that I was everyone’s good friend, as Ben was. Maybe funerals and memorials aren’t advisable places to be when you’re depressed.


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Today I am doing some furious cleaning.

Because, y’know, it’s either that or weeping.


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Cognitively, I realize that I have so much to be thankful for, yet I don’t feel alive & grateful. I don’t have hope or a purpose.

I would like my brain back. I miss my brain.
I can’t remember stuff. I can’t focus on anything.


I keep thinking of a question from Gayle Haggard’s book:

Who are you and what kind of a person are you going to be in this story?


I don’t know who I am. I don’t like the kind of person I am in this story.

I know I’ve done the best I could, but I feel like I waste all the hours of every day. I seem to believe that I should be doing something. Something worthwhile. But I don’t want to do anything. And I don’t feel called to do anything.


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