So, I made a mistake… maybe a few years’ worth of mistakes.

See, the thing is, this time of year, I always write about my inevitable mental issues on this public forum as a means to connect (I have a few readers with whom I discuss and from whom I’ve received appreciation for sharing my experiences every year, which encourages me to do so) but, after so many seasons of expressing the same “I DON’T LIKE MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW!/AUUUGHITHUUUUURTS!!” sentiments, I’ve started to wonder if I’m not just breathing more life into the situation by giving my depression a voice. By writing and talking about it, I allow it to state itself as the manager of my body and I acknowledge it as the controller of my Self, if only for a small amount of time.

I think that might be a mistake on my part… especially since I’ve turned my focus from “recovery” to “healing.”

See, I was raised in the type of society in which we don’t discuss such things as mental illness and being a little whackadoo in an open forum, so, in my recovery, I thought I’d be blasting through all those reservations in the name of “progress” and “awareness-raising” and all that. And I really, honestly loathe the idea of sitting on something and denying its existence or (heaven forbid) trying to act like nothing is wrong (I happen to be the product of a “sweeping-issues-under-the-rug” culture… nothing terrifies me more than perpetuating that. Literally nothing.) when something VERY MUCH IS AND NEEDS TO BE ADDRESSED RIGHTEFFINGNOW.

However, I think after all these years and all this time recovering, there comes a point when I can’t keep giving my illness/neuroses/damage a megaphone if I expect to actually heal. It can’t keep speaking over me, regardless of how eloquent it makes me at times.

I’m grappling with where to go from here, when I stop to consider that this might just happen every year, no matter how much yoga I do, how long I sit in the sunshine/in front of our SADlamp, how many raw fruits and veggies I’m getting, no matter how many crazy extra supplements I pump into my body, no matter how much hypnotherapy I undergo, etc.; this might not go anywhere for a while – not without another decade’s worth of work. I feel like I should prepare for that to be the “worst case” scenario and make a resolution to behave accordingly, in a way that won’t give “It” more inertia when it comes to mess with me.

So, much like that other thing I’ve sworn not to talk about on this blog, my personal bouts of depression is henceforth off-limits here. If you need any other references, just search under “Things that Suck.” It’s aaallll there.