Reality…. but you can’t be real……

I went to the doctor this past week. They of course take you in and do the ever dreaded vitals where you get to see if your still fat and showing how old you are with your crappy high BP. Then the millions of routine questions start and you think in your head does anyone ever really answer these damn things truthful?

Them: Do you smoke? Me: Ummmm do people have a death wish!

Nurse:Do you drink? Me:Yeah on occasion like can this be an occasion right now by chance!

Nurse: Do you use drugs? Me: Nope but honey I know why people do! Hahahahaha

THEN… THE EVER PRESSING QUESTION: Do you have thoughts or feelings of hurting yourself? Me: nope I’m good (Mrs. Liar McLiarson)

I have battled depression my whole life. It’s no longer a secret to my friends, family, strangers, the whole town I live in and so on and so fourth…… It has been a battle just to live at times. I have kids now and at one point even that didn’t stop me from attempting suicide. Go ahead call me a selfish bitch! You won’t be the first. Even my sister and my mother told me just that the day I walked out of the hospital.

My ex-husband took me to family court to take the children away from me after that and in a small town you can imagine his trash talk. I didn’t loose the kids however. The courts agreed that I was not a threat to them and would continue to be better off with me as primary custodian finishing therapy.

After all of that you can imagine my fear of them finding out I still have bouts of depression and anxiety. Instead of seeking out help or possible medications or therapy….. I hide.

There is this crazzzzy horrible stigma of depression and anxiety. Like we will take out our kids and then ourselves (what my ex was claiming). Like we have to be nonfunctional and certifiable pieces of crap. Only people with relationship issues have it. Or if you really wanted to you would be and feel better. It’s just all in our head and we are stupid.

If you’re on those “crazy pills” then you are just a constant loose cannon. A threat to mankind! And most of all a psycho bitch.

Let me tell ya something I was probably a psycho bitch long before my depression and anxiety Hahahaha. Grow up through some of the stuff I have and you will just wonder how I haven’t jumped off a bridge yet.

My husband jacked my butt for not telling them how I was truly feeling. Are you kidding me every time I breathe wrong my ex has me in court with some new allegation. I am currently in a battle just to be able to move into our new place 1.5 hours away. Which has taken my anxiety and depression to a whole other level all over again. But I struggle through it on my own. I deal with it and go on. I have had a few times I wished I had something on bored to make thoughts and feelings go away. There have been several times I have thought maybe ending my life may keep my kids from going through the court system and me from feeling all of this hell deep inside. And when I have those thoughts I question if I need to go back to therapy….. well no shit the answer is clear. I would love nothing more than to go back to therapy…. Not to save my life because I won’t do that to myself or my children. I fight horrible feelings and I know if I make a call or go to an appointment I’m screwed in a couple of weeks when I go to court. If he finds out he will run with it and that horrible stigma that comes with this disease. So I go back to books and discussions I had with my old therapist years ago and prayer where I drawl strength from God.

It’s disgusting what people with depression and anxiety have to go through. I remember before my suicide attempt he told me I “should just end my life. My kids would be better off… in fact everyone would. ” I refrain from actually getting better now because of what I have had to endure with the past. You know I can’t seek treatment and not go unscathed. It’s a sick and twisted world watching celebs commit suicide and OD and tons of people around us. Yet it’s that skeleton in the closet we all feel sorry about yet trash other humans over.

When does it end? Where does it stop? When is it ok to discuss and make it not a bad thing? When do others admit and own up to their own inner demons? When can we just get some help without worry? Why can’t it become a treatable disease without stigma like high blood pressure or cancer?

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