Good afternoon, y'all! I wanted to journal today about mental health. Whether you know me or not, I have written in the past about my fight with depression. Almost 3 years ago, I went through intensive outpatient group therapy. It was such a wonderful thing. I think that I have done pretty well over the last 3 years. I have started taking better care of myself. I have made friends and don't hide out in my home. When my grandson passed away in May, I found myself struggling again. I have fought it and ignored it and even stayed so busy so that I wouldn't think about it. But it's not working the way that I want it to.
Going back into therapy almost seems like a failure. But losing Ezra has sent me into a tailspin. I came to the realization a couple of weeks ago that I no longer cared if I lived. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want to hurt myself. Just not worried if I lived or not. I know that this is very selfish of me. I have 22 grandchildren. Even if one of the links are missing in our family chain, there are still 21 others that need me. Not to mention my hubby and children. This is when I began to realize that I needed more help than what I can get from books or journaling. I know that God has this and I feel like He is telling me "Hey, you have counseling right there, why aren't you reaching out for the help?"
I feel so lost at times, that I don't know what to do with myself and then some days I feel absolutely wonderful. I don't feel like I will ever be that "happy" person again, but I want to at least try. So I am doing what I think is best for me and my family.
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