Me-bits: yuck

Depression sucks. I've had problems on and off my whole life with depression. It's usually set off by some extreme life event. Usually a death. I know when it's there and I go get the meds I need so that I can be the person I want to be, not the one curled up on the couch all day. When my Dad died in 2004 I didn't really have time for depression. I went from 0 (mourning) to 60 (caregiver) in about 8 seconds.

I've worked darn hard to keep depression away while I'm dealing with my Mom's terminal illness and losing my beautiful loving cat Mischa. I've stayed busy and proactive in my care as well as my Mom's.

I'm afraid it's sneaking up on me here. No, I know it is. I only want to sleep, watch tv, read. But I've dealt with it for years so at least I know all it's dirty tricks. It's sitting there behind me, just waiting to mess with my chemicals and hormones. It's literally licking it's chops. It knows the signs too.

A big part of me just wants to let it in...let it grab me so I can revel in the pain. Maybe I could actually cry, something that has been mostly out of reach the past couple years. That's not practical, and that bugs me that I would even THINK such impractical, illogical thoughts. It really pisses me off. Hateful, Hideous, Horrible. My evil internal mantra is working it's way to the front of my mind. Who the hell opened the dungeon?

Depression is laughing maniacally in the background...