Fighting back

Fighting back depression is not an easy battle.  It is like fighting against a level five hurricane dragging you into a deep well and you are trying to pull yourself out.  You are pelted with the debris of the life you have and are living.  Staying above the wall of the well enough that maybe a tree branch is going to hold you out.  That is when you do it by yourself.  So when you do it with others, trained and trusted, then you have more than a tree branch to hold onto.  You have a link that can, if you are willing to fight for it enough, will help you work your way out of the hole.

The decision to fight was a journey in its self.  The fight is now on.

My anger is born of fear.  When I get angry, 95% of the time it is because I am afraid of something.  For the last decade or more of my life, I have lived in fear, and thus in anger.  I have run off the good people in my life by enlarge, and attracted a whole slew of toxic, dangerous people. Finally, I am tired of living like this, so getting my anger out is not the problem. Getting the fear out is.  Remembering the times and things that scared me are my clue to solving both problems.  Anger and burying my fears in my anger.


What I have been doing makes about as much sense as going to climb Mt. Everest in swim gear.  To keep people from seeing my vulnerability through my fears, I put the fear in a large well, the well of my depression, the one with the hurricane.  Then I get angry.  This chaos is the hurricane of my life. For years I have been battered by doing this to myself.  It is past time for me to stop and find the peace I deserve.  The peace I now crave.  The peace that will give me better health and a better life. The ability to make better decisions in my personal, financial, and spiritual life.


The first time I remember being fearful was when I was two.  I woke up and my mother was on her way to the hospital.  Family friends were there to take me for an overnight.  My father would be by in a little while.  I knew a new brother or sister was coming home, but I wanted my Mommy.  And when Daddy came, and he was crying, he said Mommy would be home in a few days, and then I would come home.  I wasn’t going to have a new brother.  He had died.  I wanted to see Mommy,. but Daddy said no  because the hospital wouldn’t let it. So I was sure Mommy was dead too.  I cried and cried.  In the bedroom of my parents friends. They did not know what to do with me, so they let me cry myself to sleep while the lady sat there trying to comfort me.

I took the fear home with me.  So scared my Mommy would be gone again, I followed her everywhere, even to the bathroom.  And Mommy was so sad.  Sometimes we would just sit and cry together.  It got better, but this hole dug by fear has never left my heart or soul.  Instead, it got bigger.  So many things that I did. So many things I need to stop doing.  One day at a time. I will stop doing things that are chaos and mayhem to my life.




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