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I decided to start blogging my journey through depression as a therapeutic release of the inter workings of my mind. Apart of me also hopes someone, somewhere, who feels as lost and alone as I have lately, will stumble across this, and realize other people out there who understand what they are going through.

To start this out, I'll tell you my story.
I can't exactly pin point the moment my spiral into depression started. The more I think about it, the more I realize its probably something I've had lurking in the shadows of my brain forever.

My childhood was pretty normal. I was a happy, smiling, ray of sunshine. I was the type of kid who always loved attention, loved being in the spot light. My teenage years were awkward, filled with acne, teenage angst, and holding boys hands. But after high school, I got pregnant, and that was when this darkness started to make itself present.
While I was pregnant, I struggled with suicide. I even attempted twice. I took 16 Benadryl pills the first time. I chose Benadryl because a part of me knew I wouldn't be successful, and I didn't want to harm my baby. The second time I took 22. After finally getting the support from my parents that I was craving, I struggled through the rest of my pregnancy and my suicidal thoughts stopped.
A few months after my daughter was born, I moved in with my boyfriend of the time. I worked, and took care of him while he "looked for jobs." (He mostly played video games and smoked pot. Which I found out after the fact.) With the stress of the rocky relationship I had with my parents, and supporting my ex and my daughter, I couldn't keep suppressing my depression, and it manifested into an eating disorder. For almost a year, I would go weeks without eating, all while attempting to keep it a secret. At my smallest, I weighed 98lbs.
I finally wised up and left him, and moved back in with my parents. Things were starting to get better. I was happy, I was working, I was eating, I even went to college. I felt like I was finally in a happy place. And even after a few relationships that didn't end the best of ways, I honestly thought I beat this thing, I was going to be okay. Until, I met the man I thought I was going to marry.
For the sake of keeping this as anonymous as possible, I'll name him Gary. Gary and I met online, and after chatting for a few weeks, we decided to meet in person. From the night we met until the day he left me, we spent every single day together. Looking back on it now, I realize I was filling the void my depression left me by replacing it with other people. After a year, he left. He got on a plane one day, and never looked back. I was nothing to him. To cope, I started self medicating. I drank. I didn't just have a beer or two, I binge drank every single night for weeks. I would go to work hung over, get off work, and get drunk again. I did this for almost a year. The alcohol helped the loneliness and abandonment I felt. Gary leaving almost killed me.
My binge drinking didn't really stop until I met the man I'm with now. The amount of love and support I receive from this man is so overwhelming. He is so incredibly understanding and patient with my illness. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have someone I can trust to communicate what is inside without judgment and misunderstanding.
Even though I felt like I found someone who truly loved and understands me, my depression came back with a vengeance. It started with emotions that I couldn't control, mostly anger. One night, it was so bad, I tried to breakup with my boyfriend, for no reason other than I couldn't control the eruption of emotion inside of me. Finally I broke down and told him everything. I told him about the sadness, anger, self hate, anxiety, and he listened. He listened, and we talked, and he actually cared. For once, someone actually cared.
Funny thing is, I still didn't think I needed help. Even as I was riddled with near crippling sadness, I still didn't think I needed help. I thought it would eventually go away. It did before, why not now?
I tried my hardest to bottle it up, pretend it wasn't there, until the day Robin Williams killed himself.
When I heard about Robin Williams apparent suicide, I sat in my room for a good hour. No music, no TV, no social interaction. The funniest man in the world lost his battle with depression. What makes me think I could win? Especially on my own. That was the day I decided it was time to get help. I decided I refused to lose. I will not become a statistic.
This is my journey through recovery. I have always been a fighter, and I will continue to fight until I can smile again.