I bought my plane ticket to Arizona on Saturday. That is where I'm going to rehab. I guess that was my big Christmas present to myself. I emailed the itinerary to my intake counselor today. On one hand, it all seems a bit surreal...like this isn't really happening. But on the other hand, it is all I am about. My focus in life now is to hang on until I can get there. If I could help it, I would have left today. But because of the insurance stuff and a new calendar year being less than a week away, I told myself to stick it out until then.
There is something about depression that engulfs a person in such a way that one may hope or even pray that the waves surrounding them, will swallow them whole. I remember reading an obituary awhile ago, that addressed depression as the disease that it is. This particular person apparently committed suicide. It had said in effect that this person had lost their brave battle with depression. I've often read about those who have lost their brave battle with cancer, with MS, with a host of physically based illnesses, but I had not read one that addresses the mental/emotional albeit still physical by means of the neurotransmitters of the brain, illnesses. I thought it was quite poignant.
Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like sitting with your family for Christmas dinner, trying to fight back the tears with every bite of food, and no one else realizing your stuggle. And nothing says "I have anxiety for the holidays" like being so relived to take the Christmas tree down, because for some reason, it was sooo torturous to put up. On my way home from the family festivities last night, I wanted someone to pat me on the back and congratulate me for making it thru Christmas, not having yet killed myself. I wanted someone to recognize that the worst month of the year, as trying as this whole year has been, has not lead to my demise...yet. I think (although I'm not sure I can hope,) that next year might be better....could it be much worse?
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