There is an ache in the center of my chest. It is depression. It's terrible and familiar. Hard to believe an empty hole can yet be filled with so much pain. An ache... loud and obnoxious, demanding and debilitating, yet somehow silent and secret from all around. It is this diabolical ache, this empty pain which makes pounding the fists in frustration perfectly reasonable. An empty invisible hole can't hurt! But it does. It makes no sense. Pounding the fists creates actual pain. And actual pain is so much easier to deal with than a nebulous, invisible, soul sucking ache. I hate the ache.
Depression Marathon Blog
- Diagnosed with depression 16 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!