Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 17 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!

Monday, April 15, 2013


I could fill this first paragraph with a stream of obscenities so profane it would curl your toenails. I am so angry! Why? Why does someone feel the need to blow people up? Why mar a beautiful, peaceful, celebratory event like The Boston Marathon? Does it fill an ego with pride to permanently alter the lives of others? To blow off the limbs of innocent spectators? What sense does that make? To kill an 8-year-old child? A child whose only sin was watching a race, perhaps even watching a parent, participate in one of running's greatest events? Why?

I first saw the horrendous footage from Boston as I was working with a patient in his apartment. It was all I could do to remain focused. The pictures literally took my breath away. I almost threw up. While I'm not in Boston this year, I have many friends who ran today. My mind immediately went to them. Fortunately, Facebook recently confirmed they are all okay.

The bomb at the finish line blew at 4:09:43. Someone researched this. That's a fairly average finishing time, thus insuring maximum impact. Boylston Street, which is the last half mile of the race, is also likely packed with more spectators in closer proximity to each other than anywhere else on the course. I've been on that street. I've run across that finish line. In fact, last year I believe I crossed that finish line around 4:10. That could have been me in the middle of those horrifying pictures.

I'm safe. It appears my friends and their families are safe. For that, I'm grateful. There are at least two families who will never see their loved one again. Multiple spectators, whose limbs were literally torn off by the blast, will never have the same life again. A beautiful, historical, celebration was turned into a grizzly slaughterhouse. Why? What is the point? Senseless. Absolutely senseless.


Ken Presley said...

Hi. You were the first person I thought of when I heard the news from Boston. Went to your blog to see if you had written about going to Boston and saw that you ran in Wisconsin over the weekend. Glad you are safe.

Found out the daughter of some friends ran today and crossed the finish line 2 minutes before the first blast, but was out of range when it went off. She and family are safe also.

Agree with the anger and other turmoil you are feeling as I have them too.

Went to visit a friend tonight which helped clear my head by getting me out of myself.


Anonymous said...

OMG! Etta it has been FOREVER since I have been on your blog! You would not believe how long it took me to "google" my way to your blog (I won't loose the link again!)

Etta I thought of you INSTANTLY when I heard about the bombing at the Boston Marathon. I am so greatful you are safe. I am so deeply sorry for this tragic situation. It is beyond words. I will write more later - but wanted you to know that someone very far away thought of you today and said MANY, MANY prayers for your safety. Grace and Peace ~ Maggie

Anonymous said...

I am angry too. Looked for someone who could relate and I found you. Thank you.

Tina Fariss Barbour said...

I am angry and heartbroken, too. I just don't understand.

I thought of you when I heard about it happening at the Boston Marathon, but remembered that you had not written anything about participating in it this year. I am glad that your friends are OK.

Anonymous said...

I couldn't calm down the entire day other than doing a lot of anxiety ridden emotion eating. I go from anger to sickened to sadness one at a time and then all together.