I have been depressed since I was born...no doubt about it. I have been on various medications and all they did was make me fat. I lost all the weight after I went through horrible vertigo withdrawal from Paxil, Now I have been taking Wellbutrin and it stopped working. I feel my doctor doesn't know what to do with me. I am single with no support ..emotionally or financially. I have a government job that I loathe and I never have any sick time, because I use it as I accrue it. Today is a very grey day. I just finished a book about Assia Wevill who was Ted Hughes mistress. Ted Hughes was an English poet and author and the husband of the poet, Sylvia Plath, who committed suicide by turning the gas oven on, placing a handkerchief on the oven door and laying her cheek on it while she took in the fumes. But not before she made her children toast and tea, took it up to their bedrooms while they were still sleeping, pushed the window open wide, stuffed towels around the door and taped their doctors phone number to the wall. 6 years later, Assia Wevill did the same thing except she took her child with her! Why, you ask, do i read such things? why, you ask, am I posting such things? Well, you see, like I stated above, today is a grey day and I have no support. Also, I read things that have to do with depression. Depression killed Sylvia Plath and Assia Wevill. The man, Ted hughes, had nothing to do with it as people sometimes want to believe. In addition, like the depression that has accompanied me all my life, I have been writing poetry since age 10. So, I read these things to try and draw a line between my condition and their condition. The thing that sets me apart from people who commit suicide, is that little drip of hope I want to find. Will it be tomorrow? I don't know. But maybe I want to wake up and go to the Mennonite Farm and pick blueberries..
So no, I have convinced myself I don't want to commit suicide. Not on this fine grey day. Thanks for letting me share
