I used to get depressed a lot.  It’s a fact that there are different types of depression.  I get both physiological depression caused by chemical and hormonal imbalances and your every day, run of the mill, emotional depression.  I get panic attacks, I get crying fits, I have temper issues, and I get withdrawn.  I have been on medication for it, but the result is never good.  I end up a doped up Pollyanna with those thoughts of suicide the commercials warn us about, so when I try to kill myself at least I’m bubbly and smiling when I do.  I have stopped trying new drugs.  It’s really not worth the risk to me.  Instead, I have learned to control my temper and stop throwing things at Hubby, have my emotional release at the appropriate time in the privacy of my own home instead of the supermarket, and try not to take out my depression on those around me.  I do not perpetuate the “Misery loves company” motto, and I certainly don’t need to own any more black clothing than I already do.

In all seriousness, I have worked really hard to harness these episodes and let them pass.  I learned a long time ago that suppressing them makes them worse and sometimes permanent.  This is, however, in no way a cure.  It’s a coping mechanism at best.  Meditation and some heavy soul-searching can only take me so far.  There are times I just have to let myself be depressed and get past it.  I also have no control over the timing of these events.  They do not always hit me when it’s convenient or helpful to a current situation.

Let’s take a look at this recent down-swing I’m in.  Hubby’s last girlfriend and I had a few issues and emotional clashes.  Since I couldn’t express a lot of my frustration to her directly, he ended up taking a brunt of the backlash.  It wasn’t fair to him, and I handled it poorly.  As a result, he’s a little gun-shy.  My current depression hit the day before he was set to go on a first date with a new interest.  He’s really optimistic, not only about the two of them but about the two of us really getting along well.  I’m happy for him.  I’m optimistic.  He doesn’t believe me though, because the two nights he’s gone to see her I’ve been bawling when he left.    He tried to stay home the first night, because I was bawling so hard I couldn’t breathe.  I finally convinced him to go, but he’s still not convinced I’m comfortable with this situation.

Once I’m out of this funk I’m going to have some serious damage control to take care of.  We’ll get through it, and I really do wish him the best.  *sniffle*

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