Tag Archives: depression

Life on Life’s Terms

life on life's terms

 

 

I am having the hardest time ever with this post right now. This is the third blog I have started, and I am determined to finish this one, no matter how much I may hate it. Here’s the thing: I am having a shit time right now, for a number of reasons. None of them are big things, but a bunch of little things strung together, causing me stress and a general feeling of unease. I don’t feel comfortable with my life or in my body right now, and it’s bumming me out.

Here’s the thing, though. I understand that this is temporary, just like everything always is. My face has erupted like Mount Vesuvius, but…it is going to go back to normal. Eventually. I had a bunch of unexpected expenses come up all at once, but…they are going to be dealt with. Financial ruin is unlikely. I haven’t had time this week to buy groceries or get to the gym, and it sucks, but I will get back on track. It’s not the end of the world.

In my addict mind (and maybe in normal minds, too, I have no experience with living in one of those) everything is extremely black and white, all or nothing. Every time I get off track, I feel like I have failed utterly, and there will be no coming back for me. Which is ridiculous- I have millions of examples in my own life where that has not ever, not once, been the case. And yet, I persist with this wrong thinking. My mind often works against me, and it can be exhausting.

The solution? I believe it must be to just acknowledge that my wrong thoughts exist, be aware of that, and then work around them. Sometimes, I can think myself right into a corner, wedged so tightly that I can’t even move. Like, moving a muscle seems impossible, seriously. That is when I need to find the strength to haul my ass up anyway, and get some shit done. If I let myself sit in my mess for too long, that is when depression comes calling. And if you’ve ever dealt with depression, you know how hard that can be to get out of, and how scary it feels when it’s breathing down your neck. Inaction is not my friend in this situation.

I keep thinking about how, four days ago, I wrote a post about laughter, and how weird it may seem to any attentive readers that I am now writing about something quite the opposite of that. Maybe you will think I am nuts…hell, maybe I am. But here’s the thing- life doesn’t care how great I felt last week. Life just shows up, and does what it does. What I have learned in recovery is that I am supposed to be living life on life’s terms, meaning I deal with what life serves up, to the best of my ability, without taking anything to change the way I feel. This is harder than it sounds sometimes. Not the part where I don’t take anything, I’ve grown used to that. It’s the part where I cope with it well that eludes me sometimes.

I get nervous. I get scared. I feel like a lot of people depend on me, and I don’t know if I am up to the task. I retreat. I close up. I shut down.

But I always, always, always (so far) pull it together in the end. I always find a way to come out the other side of my feelings intact. I have a 100% success rate so far of not destroying my life completely, as long as I stay clean. I may not be feeling my best today, but tomorrow…who knows? Hell, later today I might feel better. You just never know. My job is just to hang in there, do my best, and wait for things to change. Because they always do, for better or worse.

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The Uglies

medusa

There is this thing that some of us- maybe all of us- have. I don’t know if we are born with it, or if it is something that happens with time, and disappointment- the thoughtless word from a parent, the cruel jibe of a classmate, a build up of these things over the course of years? I don’t know. I am not here to try to figure that out. I do know that some people seem to overcome their tendency towards unkindness over time, while others, it only worsens. I call it “the uglies”. My friends, I suffer with a pretty bad case.

For me, it is like a knotted ball of impatience, anger, frustration, and…well, just ugliness. It sits, this ball, in the center of my chest, and longs to come out, to choke the joy out of the people around me. This is a pretty deep revelation from me, even if, lets say, you know me, and its no surprise to you. I am in NO WAY proud of this, and I am not trying to be funny. What I am trying to do is sort it out, work through it, try to lessen it somewhat.

What I do know is that adding any substance to it makes it worse. If you can’t figure out what I mean, I suggest you go back and read some of my earlier posts, I am not getting into specifics here. When I say worse, I mean, it multiplies the uglies about tenfold. Which could be worse, if it didn’t also put so much distance between me and the people I love the most. The uglies, plus the substances, drive a wedge between me and everything I love about life- so much so that eventually, even a phone call is more than I can tolerate. It keeps me from my friends, and from my family (the ones who are lucky enough to be able to get away from me) and from anything good or fun in my life. I have never, not once, been able to avoid this happening, once I have allowed it to begin.

But I have figured out that I don’t have to let it get so bad. I don’t have to wait until my life is in shambles to wave the white flag. My life is not simple, it is not black and white, it is not that easy for me. I wish it was. Sometimes I like to pretend it is. But that really does no one, least of all me, any good.

I am sitting here, at 5:51 in the morning, sweating in my freezing cold house. I can’t get comfortable, and I can’t sleep anymore. I think I went to bed at six last night. The struggle, for me, is very real. I don’t want the uglies to rule my life anymore. Yes, this battle is ongoing, and yes, it is tiresome. But I have some fight left in me.

What I want to say is that I am sorry. To all the people I wanted so badly to be there for, and I couldn’t, I am sorry. I am SO sorry. For all the phone calls that I couldn’t answer, and the birthdays that I ruined, for all the family gatherings I missed, and all the times I seemed so selfish and uncaring, I am sorry. I love you all more than you could know- how could you know? I am so sorry. For all of you who have had to watch me self destruct over and over again, and all of you who are just tired of it…I really am sorry. I wish I was some other way. But I am not. This is who I am. I wish it wasn’t. For all of you who have been on the receiving end of my sharp tongue, my mean streak, all of you who have gotten a little too close to that ugliness, I am so sorry. For the ones who have seen the best of me, and are so saddened by the worst. To all of you I have hurt, I am sorrier than I can tell you.

I’m starting over again. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how any of this will go. To be honest, my hopes are not all that hopeful. How could they be? But, as I said, I do have some fight in me, still. I hope it will increase as I grow stronger. I am waving the white flag this time well before it needed to be over. I have just had enough. I’ll keep you posted how it’s going.

Much love,

Courtney

On Despair

despair

Well, this certainly isn’t the topic that has been rattling around in my head for the past week or so. It is, however, a subject with which I have become rather unfortunately familiar. Still learning about, but definitely familiar.

When I was younger, I used to get so angry with people when they would say “Life is hard!” as a way of explaining the choices (mostly poor) that people make sometimes. “It isn’t hard!” I would argue, “Or, at least, it doesn’t have to be! It’s the stupid things you do, the choices you make, the people you surround yourself with, that make life hard. Goddammit, people just need to be smarter, and don’t allow things to get them down!” (For some reason, ironically, I recall saying something very similar to these very words, while sobbing on the phone to my mother. Hmm…) Anyway, I would proclaim this, and things such as this, with the absolute conviction that all twenty somethings, with very little actual life experience, possess. I mean, it FELT like I was right, totally.

Fast forward a bit, to my early thirties. By that time, I had definitely had some harrowing experiences in life, I was early in my recovery (Well, when have I NOT been early in recovery?) from drugs, and, as had usually been the case for me, life was going pretty darn well. I was clean, I had a great boyfriend, a bank account, a job, great friends. I still wore single digit jeans. Life was looking up in a major way. I remember that a woman I knew only casually- VERY casually- had relapsed, and couldn’t seem to get clean again, after having been in a twelve step program for many, many years. It had just gotten out that she had killed herself, and I believe that one of her young daughters had found her body, and I was very angry about this. I recall telling my then-boyfriend how selfish I thought this person was, to have ruined so many lives by ending her own- I said “You know, once you have kids, suicide is not really an option anymore. It’s off the table, man.” And again, I said this with the conviction of one who really believes their words to be the obvious truth, having never experienced true, gut wrenching, despair, even then.

I will never forget the words he said in response to my outrage. “Courtney- try to imagine how much pain she was in, to think that was the very best option.” Oh. Oh, wow. I don’t remember if I argued with him, or what I said after that, but I have never forgotten what he said. Imagine the amount of pain someone must be experiencing, to believe that death, uncertain and unknowable as it is, is a better option than this. Better than breathing this air, and kissing your babies, better than watching the sunrise, and laughing with friends, and reminiscing with your brother at Thanksgiving about your childhood. That must be some kind of pain, man.

Lets move forward through my life a little farther, now, to my mid-thirties. On the outside, I have everything a person could want. I have two beautiful daughters, a person to love, an amazing career, a home in one of the most beautiful places in the world. What the world sees of me is what I want them to- a bubbly, pretty, outgoing woman. I laugh a lot, and make other people laugh a lot. I am always (in the public eye, anyway) friendly and engaging. There is NO WAY you could have guessed, unless you knew me very well, the kind of agony I was in. My life was a nightmare, from where I sat. I could barely fumble through work without breaking down. I was totally strung out, again, and in fear of being found out every single day, and of losing it all. I was broke, and miserable, disgusted with myself. My relationship was in shambles, my bills were out of control, and nothing seemed bearable anymore. My older daughter was out of control, in trouble all the time, and my little daughter preferred her traitorous father (not hard to see why, looking back) over me. I cried so much every day that no one even noticed anymore. It got to the point where I rarely left my bedroom, let alone my house. I felt like my life was completely out of control (it was) and the worst part was that I knew the only one who could save me was me. This terrified me. Because I wasn’t sure I could do it, nor that I wanted to.

For the first time in my whole life, I looked around me, and I thought-“You know, it would probably be for the best if I just wasn’t here anymore. I am terrible for everyone I encounter. My family would be so much happier if they didn’t have to deal with me.” And I BELIEVED this to be true.

That is what despair is, my friend. True despair is the voice in your head telling you to give up, already. That you are so much trouble, and you are so damaged, that the people who love you desperately would be far better off without you around. It makes you believe that things will never be any better than they are right at this moment, and it makes you believe that all the happiness you remember was a lie. It shrouds the light so that it cannot get to you, and it shrouds the truth, that you are so loved, and so necessary, to the people in your life. So loved that almost any of them, from your lover to the neighbor across the street who’s last name you don’t know, would talk you down from the ledge you are standing on, if only they knew. But sometimes they just don’t know how close you are to the edge. I am so glad I made it down okay.

i found out last night that a friend of mine from high school didn’t make it down okay.This beautiful girl, who I will always remember as seventeen, with the biggest blue eyes-bigger than mine, even- and I thought she was so pretty, And she was. She was still very, very pretty. She was having a hard time of it, over the past few years- though I had no idea how hard, We chatted on Facebook occasionally, but it’s been a while. Yesterday, at the urging of a friend we have in common, I sent her a message- “Hey, you. I was thinking about you, wondering how you are. Hope all is well.” I noticed that her last post was Friday, and it said something about her intentions being good, and her heart pure. It was one of those posts we put up when we want to say something to someone without saying it to them directly. I don’t know who she meant it for. I do know, however, that she died that day. That for her, the pain was too great. My heart goes out to her, and to her children, and family, all the ones who loved her. Who would have gladly done anything to keep this from happening.

I have learned along the way that life IS hard, and it gets harder the older you get, because you grow tired of the struggle, tired of being hurt. Tired of carrying around the damn burden of who you are, and all the things you have done, the ways you have been. But I have also learned that it all comes back around, over and over and over, enough times for me to be sure- the light does get in, eventually. The joy returns, again and again, and the pain recedes. That is how it goes.

Don’t ever give up. Find one shred of hope, however small, and hang on to it, because it will get better. I promise you, it will. If the voice in your head is telling you that the world would be better off without you and all your misery, you tell someone, and you let them tell you that it is a lie. Because it is a lie. Please wait it out. Please.

That’s all I have for today. Rest in peace, my beautiful friend.

Sigh…I Can’t Fake It.

I have been really trying to work up some enthusiasm for blogging, flipping through the file cabinets in my own mind, desperately hoping to stumble across SOMETHING worth sitting down and rolling my sleeves up over. The sad truth is, I got nothing. The even sadder truth is, even when I do come up with something that I can generate an iota of interest in, I am just too unmotivated to sit down and flesh it out. I keep thinking things like “Why bother dumping all that energy into something you will end up not posting anyway?” and other self defeating thoughts of the like.

I have been doing that, too, the few times I have tried to write- struggled through a post from end to end, only to decide, after all that, that I don’t feel like posting it after all. Up until this past month or so, I had never done that before. I don’t know what the hell this new crap phase is I am in the middle of, but I can tell you this- I do not like it, not one little bit. It just bites ass.

I want to come on here and post something witty, or hopeful, or a piece that makes me seem more scrappy and unflappable than I really am, but that would be a big fat lie. I am just completely void of joy right now, which is even more unfortunate considering Christmas is tearing towards us at the speed of light. I don’t have an explanation for it, there is nothing really wrong, or at least, no more wrong than usual. Yet, I feel far worse than I ever feel, even when my life has been in much worse shape. I have no energy, I don’t want to watch TV or read, I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything, talk to anyone, or see anyone. I get hungry, but I can’t figure out what to eat, or what to buy at the store, or if I do, I end up feeling too listless to actually make anything. I feel like there is an invisible force field around me, keeping everything out, leaving me with just total ambivalence about everything. It’s very strange, and contrary to my mercurial nature, and I can’t seem to do anything about it.

It dawned on my just before I started writing this, that the only thing I haven’t considered doing, so far, is to just accept that I am feeling how I feel right now. I always, always, want to resolve things- even things within myself- and I will beat something to death trying to arrive at a solution. If you don’t believe me, ask any of my ex boyfriends…I’m sure I’ve driven more than one dude beyond his capacity to cope with my never-ending quest to get to the bottom of things. But it is a very rare occurrence for me to let go of the struggle and say “Fine!”, to just leave things alone. I wouldn’t consider doing that now if I just plain hadn’t run out of ideas. I want to feel better, but I don’t know how, so I am going to try to feel how I feel and see if there is a purpose under all this blah. Maybe I am missing the lesson because I am so busy trying to minimize and strangle my unpleasant feelings. So, here I am, little hovering storm cloud! Descend upon my head! Lets do this, then…

On the other hand, it could be clinical depression, in which case this method probably isn’t going to be successful. I guess I will have to figure that one out, too. I still don’t want to take weird prescription drugs for my moods, for reasons ranging from vague to superstitious, none of which are based on legitimate facts. As always, I find this quite amusing, considering my drug addled history. Secretly, though, I fear I am one of those crazy people that refuse medication stubbornly, while everyone around them clucks and shakes their heads, exchanging pointed looks behind my back. Perhaps this does happen, who knows? I can’t add that to my list of shit that messes with my head, I just can’t. I’m too busy accepting my doldrums, in hopes that we might be able to work out some type of truce.

In case you were at all curious, this is why I haven’t been around much. I will be sure to update you all relatively soon, hopefully with better, less boring, depressing, self centered, news. Trust me, no one is sicker of me than I am, my friends. So send me good vibes, and maybe I can get out of this stupid funk. Please? And Thank You!

The Life You Choose.

This may be the best quote ever.
This may be the best quote ever.

Do you ever have moments of clarity, where the truth about things is so clear to you that it is startling? Or, maybe, the thing that is revealed to you, simple as it is, is not at all the truth you were hoping for? I think it is pretty human, and therefore, normal, to want a certain thing, or things, to be true, to hope for certain outcomes…and it may even be normal to grapple a while with reality before the pain of that struggle becomes hampering, and we can relax enough, usually out of exhaustion, for the true nature of things to be revealed to us.

I don’t know. Every once in a while, I have these reality checks that come floating down from…somewhere, and they invariably tell me some glaring truth that I missed, while I was busy complicating things with my own over-thinking. The latest one was probably the worst so far. “You know,” my head whispered to me, “If you don’t take care of yourself, no one is going to make you, no one is going to fix you, and no one else can save you. If you don’t do it, no one is going to do it for you.” I mean, yeah, obviously, but I don’t think I was thinking that way. I think I was still trying to ride the wave of “Well, I don’t do drugs anymore.” Which I don’t want to downplay- not poisoning myself on a daily basis is, and always will be, a big deal. But it isn’t everything. There are other things that must be tended to.

The fact that I haven’t been tending to those things becomes evident when I start to slip into despair and depression, like I have written about recently. I don’t want to get dressed, I don’t want to get cleaned up, I don’t want to clean my house (well, I never want to do that) or open my mail, or go outside. I know that doing all of these things will make me feel better, but I don’t want to do them. I want to drop out of life. Not die, I am not suicidal, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to participate in the parade anymore. Because I am burrowed down into my little “safe” spot, miserable as it is, and it seems like an awful lot of effort to get going, to get up there on the level with you other humans, and stretch my legs, start to feel better again.

So, the other day, I was standing in my kitchen, and that is when I thought that thought- that “Yeah, go ahead and stay in your little hole, but life is going on all around you, and you are missing it. Stay here, but no one is going to drag you out into the light. You have to do it. You have to be responsible for you, and your happiness, and the fact that you are missing out.” It was like my subconscious was giving me a stern talking to. I was not very receptive. I went and lay on my bed in protest, in my pajamas, at four in the afternoon, and drooled into my pillow while watching some horrible reality show on MTV.

But the conversation (that took place only in my head) wouldn’t stop playing over in my head. I knew it was the truth, and at the bottom of that truth was that I was hurting no one more than myself, by refusing to get on the ride. I was missing out. That is what life IS- the motion, the action, the discomfort, sometimes. It brings with it laughter, and joy, and happiness. You can’t just pick and choose which experiences you will have and which you will skip over- that is not really living. By leaving my sweats on for days, and refusing to get outside or do anything, I was refusing ALL of it. Not just the hard, boring, uncomfortable, scary stuff, but the great part, the best parts, too. And it was up to me.

So, I went on a few rather grudging walks. The light started to inch it’s way closer. I took a bubble bath and put on clean clothes. A little closer. I took out the garbage and answered the phone when it rang. I felt better. Then, the day before yesterday, I really WANTED to take my dogs for a walk after work. I couldn’t wait. The minute I was off work, I was out the door, and we walked and walked, and halfway into our walk along the beach, I realized I was doing it- I was taking care of myself, and I felt better.

Yesterday, the need for a nap was, like, gone. I just didn’t need one. Just like I didn’t need a pill, or a therapist (although I do have one, don’t get me wrong) or a cheer squad to get me through it. I had the answer, right in my own head, or heart, or soul- wherever the truth about ourselves comes from- it was in me, all the time. I just needed to be willing to listen. I wish I didn’t need to be in such a sorry state before I can hear my own inner voice, and I guess that is something I will work on. Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you. Now, back to writing the novel. Have a wonderful Friday!

But You SEEM Fine…

depression

I’m going to switch gears today, and be a little more serious. At least, I think I am. It’s actually a little hard for me to tell how things are going to come out until they have started coming out, but the subject matter is certainly a little more serious. I want to talk about depression. Have you ever been depressed? Like, REALLY depressed, not “OMG, I am so depressed, those shoes that I wanted at Kohl’s were totally sold out by the time I got there” depressed? I am talking about “Holy shit, I forgot to take a shower or change my clothes for like four days” depressed. (See, I am trying to be serious, and I am still so darn funny! What the hell?) And you might be thinking “I have never been depressed, but I have seen my mom-best friend- husband- sister go through it…” Well, that is awesome, and we have all seen someone go through it, but let me tell you, unless you have gone through it yourself, you have no idea. Because, even when you HAVE gone through a bad bout of depression, even knowing what it’s like, when you see someone else going through it, you still want to say stupid shit to them like “You need to get out and get some exercise!” or “You just need to do something fun, and you will feel better!” or “Try to look on the bright side.” And that is how the person you are talking to knows you have no fucking idea what you are talking about. It is also when you better be glad they are so depressed and lethargic, because otherwise, they would be kicking your ass right now, or stabbing you in the neck with a pencil. Then, they would no longer be depressed, they would be exhilarated, and Voila! You just helped make a serial killer! I hope you are happy. Just kidding. My point is, people that are legitimately depressed already know they would probably feel better if they got up and did stuff, it’s just really, really, hard- if not impossible.

See? My problem with depression is exactly that, what I just did in the paragraph above- I make jokes about everything, and I laugh, and other people laugh with me, and then they can’t possibly take me seriously. I mean, funny people aren’t depressed, right? I don’t want to be a total downer here, but I would like to point out that Robin Williams was pretty fucking funny. I’m not saying I am that funny, I’m just saying he was, like, THE funniest- and we all know how that turned out. My point is that, if you look at just the cast of Saturday Night Live, historically, funny people are some of the most depressed, most mentally ill, most fucked up people out there. And they have a really hard time with it. I can still be funny, and be doing less than well. Clearly, I also have a bit of an ego problem, (you must be thinking, as I just compared myself to the Gods of funny-ness) but that is a blog for another day.

I am trying really hard right now to organize my thoughts so that I can fit everything in here in a cohesive manner, but I get excited about what I am trying to say, and I don’t want to lose anything…hold on. Okay. So, here is what I think: I think there are all kinds of levels of depression. For instance, after I had my last baby, I experienced horrible post-partum depression, and it blew the socks off of anything I had known before or since. Like, I was so depressed, forget about showering or eating, altogether- my biggest concern was the fact that , not only could I never imagine feeling happiness or joy ever again, I believed that all my memories of being happy were completely made up. So, I was so depressed that it even affected my belief that happiness ever existed. That is pretty scary. That is, like, Top Shelf Depression. The depression issues I have dealt with since then have all been drug related, or at least, interfered with, if not caused totally, by my out of control drug use. So the easiest way to “cure” those episodes was to quit using drugs. Easy-peasy. (not really, but you get my drift)

This time is different. I am not using drugs, so there is no quick fix. Further complicating the issue- I won’t take anything pharmaceutical. I might if this gets really out of hand, but I am definitely not to that point yet. There is something called “Post Acute Withdrawal” that is a fun little issue unique to recovering drug and alcohol users that basically means you are a total mess for up to two years after getting clean, and I have considered that this may be part of what I am experiencing. For the record, I was calling it “Post Traumatic Withdrawal Syndrome” until my neighbor pointed out that it was “Acute” and not “Traumatic”, and I feel my title is more accurate, but whatever. So, there could be an element of that, for sure.

The weirdest part of all, this time, is that I could feel the depression coming. Thanks to my clear head, I didn’t just come to one day with the overall sensation that mankind is doomed, and that everything in life is pointless, I could feel the subtle changes within me that said “Ugh, something sure doesn’t feel very good here.”, and I was nervous that those feelings would grow, and they have, and here I am. Now, my big question is- what can I do about it? I won’t take anything (right now) and I am not just going to let this dark cloud descend…so what do I do?

Well, the first thing I am going to do is talk to my therapist about it. I have an appointment tomorrow, and I am going to sit close to a box of Kleenex and let it all out. Then, I am going to ask her what ELSE I can do to nip this in the bud. She is super cool, and, even though she is younger than me, I totally like her. She always gives me photo-copied lists of information when I see her, and I joke that she is only encouraging my hoarding tendencies. I like, though, that she sees through my joking to what is beneath it. So I will talk to her. And hopefully, we can come up with a plan.

And this morning, I am going to try to look on the bright side, and take my dog for a walk, and hide the body of the person who suggested it. Just kidding.

I Don’t Know How To Help You…

Something I haven’t talked about in a while, and something I don’t know how far I should get into, is my older daughter. This has been a REALLY trying year for us. I always think of it in terms of how hard it is for me, dealing with her. What I am only now starting to really consider is how hard this past year has been for her.

I found this out, unfortunately, when she was placed on a 72 hour hold at the hospital after making threats of killing herself. No matter how much you want to call “Bullshit”, when it is your child telling you that she has been thinking about killing herself for a year, you do not take it lightly. As a matter of fact, it shatters your heart and fills you with fear. If you are like me, you look back at the last fifteen years of dysfunction and beat yourself up for every kindness you didn’t show, every error in judgement you have made. If you are REALLY like me, you can’t remember them all, there are so many, and you are pretty convinced that everything wrong with this kid is your fault.

Since she has been home, we have been doing so well…or so I thought, anyway. We went to the pumpkin patch, out for family dinners, sat down at home for family dinners. We went to Santa Cruz and to the beach, and we have spent a lot of time together. When she told me she didn’t want to take the medication they prescribed her, I told her I wouldn’t make her if she really didn’t think she needed it. She seemed happier than she had been in a long time. So happy, actually, that I forgot to make her that appointment with the psychiatrist that we were supposed to follow up with.

Last night, it was clear to me that I had made a huge mistake. She had been talking to her boyfriend, Josh, (who I love dearly), and then after he left, she talked to him on the phone again almost immediately. I asked her why, and she said they were talking about something important. Of course, I immediately assumed she was pregnant, and followed her through the house, harassing her, until she broke down.

It seems things are not as okay as I thought they were. She is feeling really, really bad. She doesn’t see the point to life. The world looks violent and hopeless to her. She does not feel smart enough, worthwhile enough, special enough. She feels like she has no friends and does not fit in. She is anxious all the time. She isn’t happy, at all.

Now, as a mother, this is by far one of the scariest conversations I have ever had with my beautiful, smart, funny, wonderful child. I mean, give me a good old fashioned talk about sex and birth control any day over this…Because what do you say? When your daughter tells you she is just unable to find any joy in life at all, how do you show her all the joy around her? How do you help them? If they cannot see it, how can you point it out to them? When you are in a dark place like she was last night, the answer is clearly-you cannot. Talk about feeling helpless. This is my baby we are discussing here…I just don’t know.

What I do know is this- I could not imagine one day on this planet without my child, for ANY reason. God forbid I ever have to face that day. And so today, after a long talk with my daughter, we went and picked up the medication that she was prescribed. She’ll start taking it tonight. And as soon as I finish this paragraph, I will pick up the phone and make that appointment. I will do my part and pray and pray and pray that she does hers.