As long as I can remember I have been affected by deep, dark, seemingly inexplicable periods of depression. When I became a believer, I was 18 and I thought that would make it better. It didn't. I felt guilty. I was told that my life is good, I have no reason to be depressed. It will pass. It always did, eventually.
I almost didn't survive some of those times...but no one knew that part.
My depressions were always preceded or followed by periods of significant productivity. I was alert, full of ideas, confident, fun....and wow! I could get a lot done. Everyone likes this "me". Whenever I fell back into the darkness, I withdrew, kept my distance...tried to hang on until it was over.
So how did I end up in "that place" I described below. "That place" is in Winston-Salem, North Carolina and it took a violent tear in my reality to get there.
During my adult life, I had cocooned myself in as much safety as I could. I tried to find salvation/safety in my own strength. I married a big strong guy and I gave birth to my 4 beautiful children primarily because I wanted the family I never had. I homeschooled to keep us together and truth be known, so I could be watchful over them. I read books on being an excellent wife.
I tried really, really hard.
Guess what? That family blew apart. My big strong guy left. The shock and depression set in with a vengeance.
A cold winter night, an empty field and two bottles full of pills are what ultimately found me locked in that strange and terrifying place.
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