A post of a fellow blogger caused me to think about depression. I don’t have much to say about it. I know it exists, I know it is real and I firmly believe it is overused as an excuse. Yes, I said it. An excuse. No one wants to challenge a person who is “depressed.” It’s a great excuse to avoid activities, lessons, and work. And life.

 

I grew up in a family that embraces depression like a big fuzzy warm hug. Depression was to blame for piles of laundry, empty pantries, bad grades, lots of time with grandparents. Always an excuse. I do not in anyway doubt that those who played the depression card were indeed clinically depressed. I don’t doubt it one bit. I’d be, too, if that were the life I’d chosen for myself. But it isn’t.

 

This crappy feeling of complete physical weakness from this stoopid mono has not stopped me. My bed is still made, the ids are still doing lessons, there’s been plenty of food cooked (thank you, Dear Crock Pot), and I’ve even worked in the garden, barn, and up and down steps a gazillion times while moving from Summer to Autumn clothing. Am I sad about this crippling feeling? Yes. I am VERY sad about it. I don’t like having to stop at 3p to catch my breath (literally) by not moving much. I am so very over this sore throat and throbbing ears and achy body. But you know what? I am not letting this stoopid illness nor this very real sadness cripple me. I am still moving forward.

 

Yes, it would be easy to let it bring me to a stand still. “Rest and you’ll recover more quickly.” Please, anyone who reads this blog and communicates with me in person, on the phone, or electronically, do not ever say that to me again. I am not going to stop. I can’t. Or rather… I am still learning. There is too much joy that fills my heart deep inside when I serve my family. Why stop that? I can get over myself.

 

So that’s my take on depression – too many use a moment in time’s “sadness” to envelope them and cripple them. This becomes true depression and then that depression becomes a crutch. Then a rascal scooter. Then a wheelchair. Then a hospital bed and then a grave. And not a very fulfilling life in between. I wouldn’t think. It really is heartbreaking, this depression thing.

 

 

PS – I *know* depression is REAL. I *know* there are all kinds of reasons for it, many very REAL. Don’t give me grief. I know more people “depressed” than I know people who are happy. Like breast cancer awareness month, I’m moving forward, and not letting anything or anyone stop me.

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