Ms Puck,
I don't know if we are allowed or should share where we live, but Florida is pretty big state. I am home alone, my son is asleep and my husband is working so I have some peace for now. I thought maybe just maybe that I could write something besides how depressed and wrong my life is going. I really get sick of hearing myself sometimes. Since I don't include my family or parents, or one true friend with how I feel or what's been happening these last two months, I should be able to continue pretending to all that life is great. Basically, I have been going at this solo, from when I started taking meds to seeing a therapist and psychiatrist. I kind of feel at least in control of my depression in that sense, since I really have no control at all. Does that make any sense to anyone? I have been especially good at concealing everything, from hiding my meds to my journal writing that I share with my therapist. It feels sort of empowering to me to at least be able to control that. I know how my mother would react because of the first and last time I was hospitalized in 1993. She refused to come see me, but would always go see her neice with a similar hospitalization. I guess too painful to see me, but she was ok with seeing her neice. I have a few issues with my mother and I want to let go of them because she does love me as I do her, but life simply sucked as a child. When my brother was killed at age 18 in Vietnam, I was 9 years old and she went into a sea of depression and never would get proper help. As a result, life was extremely depressing growing up, and she couldn't be there for me as a mother. I endured many years of this and creepiness from my stepfather who she later divorced when I was 19 yrs old. I trusted the wrong person and was forced to do something against my will with devasting consequences. Numerous relationships and one previous marriage changed nothing for me. Then a mother's worst nightmare happened again and my older sister was brutually murdered by her own son in 1988. I held it together for awhile, but eventually in 1993 after having to quit my job of 12 years I finally broke and voluntarily went to the hospital. I am not sure why I am sharing all this personal information with you and others, but to be honest