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NYE 2009

2009-12-31 - 9:11 p.m.

There are less than three hours left of 2009. It was not one of my greatest years. However, I believe it ended on a good note.
January was okay. But, February and March were hell. Literally hell for me. I was in the deepest depression I've been in ever. I wanted to die on March 4th - my birthday. I had a terrible fight with my mom and left her house around midnight/one a.m. that day. I said horrible things to her. She said horrible things to me. I drove down I-75, heading towards the river. I honestly thought I'd park my car and jump from one of the many bridges spanning the Ohio river. A part of me knew it was wrong and not what I should do. I called a friend. I pulled over 15 minutes from the river. I calmed down. I met that friend the next day and we talked. I went to a therapist that day. I just let everything out. But, I never told her I wanted to die. I made another appointment with her for two weeks later. I thought I could hang on for two weeks. It was tough, but I did it. And then, the night before our appointment, she cancelled. Told me she didn't think she could take me on at that time. So, I called another therapist and got in in just a few days. Thank God. And while that therapist eventually didn't work out - 95% of the time was spent talking about HER - I believe that little bit of human interaction and knowing someone expected me to show up week after week, saved me. I survived the spring. It wasn't until the summer I realized this therapist wasn't for me; she could barely remember things about me and never ever brought up the reason I told her why I was there initially - to work on my dad's death. And, I always wanted to sit on the floor b/c my back hurt so much sitting on her couch. But, I never did. On Monday, I'm contacting a new therapist. This isn't because I'm back to square one or suicidal - it preventative. A friend from work goes to her and she sounds great - I'm gonna walk in and tell her ON THE FIRST DAY what I need. That I need to process my dad's death. That I need to talk about my muffins. And that, sometimes, my back might hurt a lot and it's more comfortable for me to sit on the floor. And I'm going to tell her why I stopped seeing my other therapist; from what I've heard from my friend, this won't be an issue. There will be very little, if any, talk about her. I am paying HER. I am going for ME. I have to. Otherwise, I may not survive. Yes, I suffer from depression and I HATE it. But, it's something I have. Something that is normal for me. Something I have dealt with most of my life. Currently, it's not an issue. But, CHRIST... I do not want it to get as bad as it did on my birthday.
Some positives as the year ends: I'm making myself healthy, physically. I'm determined to keep myself healthy, mentally and spiritually. I know the latter will be the toughest. I can do the former - I've done it before. I used to run marathons. Anyone can condition his or her body to go through the motions. However, this time, I want it to be because I WANT to and because I love it and because I want to save my life. No motions this year. I'm hoping for only love, growth, acceptance and life.
I honestly don't want to die anymore. I did for a good 4 or 5 months this year. Thank God for FMLA because besides using it for my back, I used it many times for my mind/heart. Yes, this is probably illegal and I should honestly get FMLA for my depression, but what stigma would/could that place on me??? I'm supposed to be strong and beautiful for my muffins - how can I (capital I) be sad in their midst? This is another thing I want to address this year - depression for those who work in the world in which I work. It's sad. It can be amazingly rewarding and happy, too. But, damn, most days, it is fucking depressing. I don't have to tell YOU that, now do I? No one wants to work where I do. If I tell people what I do, I get looks of sadness and (imagined) empathy. "You're an angel." "OH.... how in the WORLD can you do that?" "Thank God you do it b/c I know I can't". It sucks. Cancer sucks. It's not going away anytime soon that I can see. So, the options are to learn to deal with it. And, BELIEVE ME, I am SO not complaining about my job. God - this is what I've wanted to do since I was 13. And, I am DOING it! I love it - with all my heart, I truly do. But, it does take it's toll. And that's what I'm hoping to address. And I want to be honest about it. I know I didn't get to where I was last March just because of my dad. I want to address it in a positive way - we have social committees and line (CVC) committees and all kinds of committees on our floor. I am determined to be the one who starts a depression committee. Seriously. With different wording, I imagine. But, it exists. All over. In normal people. Imagine how much it exists in people who do what we do?!?! How many of my co-workers spent this past year trying to stay alive, just as I did? I want it to become a conversation; if only that. No more hiding. I can no longer be ashamed of the fact that I suffer from this b/c it is part of who I am.
So, there's that....
And here's this: what I have to get past. The counting. The knowing that three years ago tonight, my parents were probably out to celebrate the passing of 2006 and the coming year ahead. Oh - how much they didn't know. How much we all don't know! What lies ahead can be so frightening. And so out of our control. So, enjoy it. Enjoy this life and love one another. Because, in the end, we're all fucked.

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