In which a lot is not well

“All is well and all will be well”

Or not.

In March a particularly ugly strain of depression entrenched itself in my head.

I got help.

Perhaps I should say I am receiving help. “Got help” implies the need for help is over. That is far from the case. I am still a distressed damsel. Not in distress. Were I in distress there would be a hope of a prince to save me. Distressed, as faux antique leather couches and designer jeans. Or distressing, leaving chaos in my wake.

That sounds like something out of The Handmaid’s Tale novel. Chair. Flesh. Mayday. M’aidez.

Not the subject at hand.

I am in therapy. I am on medication. I am trying to cope as my daughter’s struggles with her emotions and coping skills become more difficult for both of us.

I just want to know when being excluded and unremembered stops hurting, because it still does at 37.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s