'Ol inner workings...

It's been so long that I had to reinstate my account and figure out how to post via this bloggy-thingy.  I've been motivated to post, maybe more often this start up- again.  *tap, tap.  Is this thing on?

Depression brings me here.  Its truth, realness, darkness.  I'm not depressed now, you see... but the last few days have been rough on the 'ol inner workings.  Depression is something I've learned about through my years-- mostly that I have it from time to time and that there isn't a magic pill that keeps it away.  Though I do take medication and I've been to therapy, depression is in my DNA.  It's a part of me, who I am, how I operate, why sometimes I can't get up to do anything... Yesterday I mad a sandwich.  It was a breakthrough.

It's refreshing that this thing called depression isn't something I have hide so much these days.  It use to send me in fits of, "I don't feel good."  "My head." "My back." It wasn't a lie.  But I've learned through the past few years that the actually body pains was the ramifications of said depression.  It's a dark place.  It's a scary place.  It's a place that many don't understand, but unfortunately, it's a place that many people visit.  Much less frequently for myself-- thanks to medication, therapy, wife, friends, and GOD.

I wanted to kill myself a few years ago.  Actually, I had wanted to kill myself for many, many years-- I only came to a breaking point, where that thought was very real a few years ago.  I was blogging a lot in those days.  Looking back, I guess a lot of truth was written to hide the fact that I was going to kill myself.  I had a plan.  It was in the works.  Everyone was going to be better off.

I'm lucky.  While the last few days have been rough, I've been fighting off those thoughts-- something I use to revel and roll around in like a fat pig in the mud.  Oink, oink.

It's a dark and lonely place, plotting your death.  Some call it selfish, but in the inner workings, well... it's a feeling of giving up so those you love can live better, happier lives.  It's not that love isn't enough. It's that you don't deserve that love and everyone would just be better off-- in the long run-- after the initial sting-- if you were just gone.

We need to rip at the truth and expose it.  None of that crap is true.  People do love you, me.  You, me, we are deserving of that love.  I have love to give.  I am not spoiled goods.  People need and appreciate you, me.  Suicide cause deep, everlasting scares-- scares that don't fade.  Find help.  Say it out.  Shout it.

As the death settles front his round of dark times, I'm so very thankful to be alive.  The air seems brighter today.  I see more clearly.  I'm standing up straight and walking with purpose.  Tomorrow will be better too.  And the next day.  It does get better.  Promise!