The Thief

I finally feel like I'm coming into a good patch again in terms of the depression. But I wanted to share with you something I wrote last week. I was really struggling with seeing it as a failure even though a lot of it could be traced to a med change that was financially related. Still, I felt like a failure. I decided to journal one day about why depression is not a failure. I thought I would share it with you.

Depression is a thief. That is the best description of it. It sneaks into a person’s life and it steals energy, enthusiasm, joy, self-confidence . . . . It hampers relationships and can be a hindrance to work. More than anything depression steals hope. It makes me believe that tomorrow is as dark as today and that it will never get better. It taunts me, shouting at times that it will always be like this, I will never get fully better, and because of that I am a failure of great proportions.

Depression is a thief. But it is also a liar. I must choose ways to find ways to shine truth on those lies. I must fine a way to have the courage to believe:

· Depression is an illness. There is a biological component to it.

· Like any illness it needs treatment. No one would tell a heart attack victim not to go to the hospital.

· I am not defined by depression unless I choose to let it define me. But I choose to be defined by hope and love and faith and not depression and desperation.

Dale Carnegie said, “Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed no hope at all.” I am important. I must keep trying. Perhaps something unexpected and wondrous will come from all these years of effort. I choose hope.

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