It looks like the writing might be helping me with the depression. I have only written two posts and already I am starting to lose interest in expressing my depression.
Until the lonely nights come. My husband is out of town. I am here with the kid by myself. Even though I haven’t been in the desperate state I was in when I started this blog, I know that so many of my actions are counter productive to healing and yet I can’t stop them.
So, the husband isn’t here but instead of taking advantage of it and organizing something fun to do , I chose to sequester myself away. I didn’t engage my ‘friends’. I took my night and said its worthless so why try to make it worthwhile.
A week of feeling better. A week of not wanting to write. I was laying in bed when I felt the hopelessness hit me like a punch from Mohammad Ali. The tears welled up in my eyes and I forced the shakes back.
Because I was aware that the writing had released some of the depression infection, I arose from my bed to release a bit more. May this writing remove these thoughts from my head and let me have peace enough to sleep tonight.