It was early part of the nineties where I found myself out of work living in a bachelor apartment where I just was totally burned out.
I was trying my level best to put on a brave face, inwardly though I was in total turmoil. Conflicted about the very things I had been taught within a Christian family, at least on my mother’s side. My paternal grandmother was a died in the cloth Roman Catholic.
A friend I had allowed to get close to me was smothering me day and night. I do not know what is to experience drowning, yet that is how I would describe my mental health.
It is funny, no one wakes up in the morning and places on their to-do list that they will allow depression to enter their life. It sneaks up on you, probably for years. Mornings when you just wake up in a bad mood, the sudden outbursts of anger without any just cause, causing hurt to family and friends.
Then one afternoon everything just boiled over. In a moment of total anger at this friend I grabbed my prescription bottle of sleeping pills, went to the bathroom and downed the entire bottle which had basically been filled.
I woke up in the mental health ward the next morning. My memories of it all were spotty at best. Most of the details filled in from hospital staff and my friend. I was told while in emergency they gave me a charcoal drink and was not combative like most are in the same situation. So began over twenty-five years of battling depression, being dianosed as bi-polar.
That is the short version of the other side of healthy!
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