Love Her

It Doesn't Last Forever

A friend of mine once told me that sometimes it helps to simply write it out.  I'm going to try it today.  I don't usually write on this blog, nor do I plan on continuing to do so, or telling anyone I wrote anything to begin with.  I can only think of a few people I would tell anyway, but releasing the darkness, just a little bit today, may help.  I couldn't run, it's storming out and I have my daughter to watch, so I've been cleaning.  Scrubbing away all the grit and grime where there really isn't much in the first place.  It's therapeutic though, in a way, sometimes I imagine I'm scrubbing away the sadness and chasing away the demons that occasionally decide to dominate my soul.  I fight it as best I can and the medication and counseling has helped, however, I've discovered that depression isn't exactly curable.  There's not a magic pill they can give you or wand they can wave to eradicate it entirely and it creeps up on you and suffocates the happy facade you've created.

I don't generally like to tell anyone about the bad days.  I know my husband sees them and my little girl too more than likely, although I try and shield her from it.  Every now and then I mention it to a few good friends, but I've found that saying I'm sad is often followed by a feeling of guilt.  Everyone has bad days and my friends have many too, some more than me.  I don't need to burden them with mine.  And what do I have to be sad about, really?  I have a husband that loves me, a beautiful daughter, a nice house that we rent, a dog, friends...the most painful struggles in my life thus far have passed and here I sit some days ensconced in a sorrow so thick it's difficult to simply breathe.

Tomorrow will come though, or maybe sooner a happy moment.  It doesn't last forever, the mantra of my day.