Depression is hard. It’s unbearable at times. On a good day, I feel like I’m running through waist-deep water. On a bad day, I feel like I’m treading water. On a really bad day, I feel like I’m drowning.
A year and a half ago, I felt “normal.” I thought I had found the ultimate cocktail in medication because I knew what it was like to live without being depressed or feeling anxious.
I had to stop taking one of my medications because my insurance wouldn’t cover it. I appealed it and I had my doctor work with them to no avail. Also, when I quit my job last May, we lost our insurance coverage so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This particular medication is around $1200/month. Since I’m not in the 1%, I could no longer continue to take it.
I’m really struggling right now. I’m at one of the lowest points in my life. It takes every ounce of my strength to get out of bed in the morning. Then, using what’s left over I have to navigate the day. Some days, I can’t do it. Some days, I don’t have the strength to do the things that most people take for granted.
I’ve been living my life one day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time, for the last two weeks because it’s all I can do to keep suicide from my thoughts. One minute I’m completely fine and the next, I’m completely broken, sobbing, wondering what I can do to lessen the pain and despair I’m feeling. I know suicide isn’t the answer. And, I don’t really want to die. Sometimes, I just wish I’d never been born.
Few people know I’m struggling and if they do, they don’t realize how much I am. The ones that do are the people that count–Corey, my bishop, my psychiatrist, my therapist, and a couple of friends.