Monday, September 26, 2011

The Fighter

I was lying in bed this morning. Trying to convince myself not to leave. I pulled the covers over my head, tapped the snooze button on my 3 alarm clocks more then a few times and really wished I could melt into the sheets.

I did eventually get my ass out of bed but not before cursing up a storm. I need to keep my job and help my mental health, not hinder it.

Sometimes I just wish for an easy way out. That the Prozac and the Wellbutrin along with talk therapy would cure my depression not just put a band-aid over it and raise my lows. Is there a cure? Is this a life long thing?

Out of everything, writing here has helped me the most. It gets the crazy thoughts out of my head. If you read, great, if not, writing about it helps me. It amazes me that people want to read my ramblings.

I thought about taking a picture of my battered and bruised knee to use to describe myself as battered and bruised but then I had second thoughts. Besides grossing people out, I am not battered and bruised. I am more of a fighter.

1 comment:

  1. God, I hope it's not a life time thing


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