My battle with depression is an ongoing thing. It's something I'll have to fight the rest of my life. Something as mundane as a text message or an email from a meddling sister will send me over the edge, but then something as simple as my husband giving me a hug will bring me back.
I tried to kill myself when I was 15. It was more a cry for help than anything, and I am so grateful that I did not succeed.
I almost drove my car into a light pole two years ago, but then my newborn child cried in the backseat and snapped me back to reality. I pulled over on the side of the road and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I look at my two-year old now and I hate myself for almost ending his life and leaving his siblings without a mother or brother.
I am on medication now and will probably be on some form of antidepressant the rest of my life. I'm ok with that. I don't know if the depression is rooted in losing my mother at such a young age, then suffering years of abuse at the hands of my father and his wife, or if it's simply a chemical imbalance that will never be corrected without medication. It could be a combination of both.
But today, I like who I am. I like my life. I love my children and my husband. Now that I've finished my degree and doing what I love, I feel as if I'm finding me again. My children truly give me great joy. My husband, simply by being present, gives me great strength. Life is far from perfect, but I'm so glad that I'm still here.
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