As an adult, I had my ups and downs as everyone does. My downs are deeper and for longer periods of time. Anxiety compounds it. I hit rock bottom December 2013. Life had chewed up my mind, heart, and soul. I had little left of myself. I visualized steering into the concrete wall next to the highway. I considered consuming a full bottle of Xanax. My mind constantly searched for escape routes.
I had already tried various medications, doctors, and therapy...for over a decade. Nothing was quite successful. My husband and parents finally had an intervention of sorts with me December of 2013, and I agreed to a new medical professional. Time, therapy, and medications...again searching for the right combination and strategy that worked for me.
I held on, now having some hope after meeting with the new doctor. Also, two people in my life give me a reason to hold on...my son...and my friend's daughter. I figured everyone could get over my death, but probably not my son. I couldn't take away his mother, and I couldn't let him believe suicide was an acceptable option (he too struggles with depression and anxiety). Also, my friend's daughter is an inspiration. She has a terminal illness. She fights for her life each day. It's not fair for me to wish away my life when there is a small girl fighting to keep hers. She's my hero.
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