My Dark Night

I suffer from depression. I don't publicize it, but I think I want to talk about it.

I have always been an over-thinker, to the point where I could exhaust myself, even as a child. My mother took me to doctors wondering what was wrong with me. I even had to be treated with medication to help turn my mind off so I (and my parents) could sleep at night. I worried incessantly, mostly about things most kids didn't even think about. It was really hard on my family, and it made it worse for me to find out that my younger sister wasn't like me. She was easy to deal with, and happy go lucky. It really made me feel like I was a burden on Mom and Dad. So I would try to be more like my sister and internalize my anxiety, which made it that much worse when I found out I couldn't internalize it for long and had outbursts of emotion. It wasn't easy for me to make and keep good friends. I spent a lot of my time alone, drawing or reading.

I was a fat kid too, constantly being subjected to open criticism from my peers. The first time I tried to lose weight, I was 12. A baby really. And it hardly worked. It was horrible.

As I got older, I learned to handle my feelings a bit better. I'd say the most comfortable I was with myself was in high school, when I had the most friends. I met my best girl friend when we were almost in high school, and I had finally found a friend I could trust. *Love ya Ky* I also met my first serious boyfriend, who was good to me. *Thanks Dan* But the rest of my friends were toxic.

When it came time to go to university, the misery returned. My best friend and I were going separate ways, since I didn't think I could handle being too far away from home. I was going to be alone again, left with the group of toxic friends.

Surprisingly though, I made some friends quickly, something that was necessary to survive in my faculty. The next 5 years were a real test for me. I had my first bout of debilitating depression. I self-medicated a lot with alcohol and whatever dose of anti-depressants I felt like taking on any given day. I had a boyfriend that was more emotionally unhealthy than I was. I learned all about the evils of binging and purging. My friends mistreated me and took advantage of me. I'm still not sure how I survived, seriously.

Finally something happened. I still don't know how, or what, but something changed. I started sticking up for myself. I didn't let my friends walk all over me anymore. I told them how I felt, and most of them rejected me. Not that I didn't think they would. So I left my house in the city and moved back in with my parents for a while. It was another very difficult time, since I felt so alone. But I was alone with those friends anyway, so ultimately I was better off. While I lived with my parents I reconnected with lots of friends from my past, and lots of new friends.

Geez, this must be boring to read.

Anyway, things started looking up for me. Ridding myself of my toxic friends was the best thing I could have ever done for myself. I still miss some of them, but I'm not willing to put myself in that position ever again. I bought my first house in the country, lost 70 lbs, met Stephen, I sold my house, we moved in together in the city, bought another house, got the dog.

I still live in fear though. Fear that the depression will return, that my life isn't what I really want, that I'm not living up to my potential, that I'm in the wrong career. I'm unsure of what I want, and I feel like time is running out for me. Sometimes I'm uncomfortable with my own thoughts and feelings, and that's just not a great place to be.