04.11.2003
9:48 a.m.
Close friends
I spent time with a good friend last night. She's the kind of friend that I've known forever, and even though we don't get to see each other as much as we'd like, whenever we DO hang out, we pick right back off where we left off. We can still talk like we're talking to someone who will never judge us. We can tell each other stories of being screwed over by men, and the other one will comment on what a bastard the guy is, and "shouldn't he KNOW better?"
We met way back in kindergarten. I have pictures of her at my sister's and my 4th? 5th? birthday party at McDonald's. Then we went to separate schools until high school. In 9th grade, we were in the same science class. We met and became friends for what we thought was the first time. Then I found the pictures from kindergarten. Wacky stuff. I believe it was fate once again making itself known in my life.
We've had periods of extreme closeness, and periods where one or both of us were mad at each other for various reasons. Throughout everything, though, I have always seen her as my guardian angel and best friend.
I think this is partially why she was upset last night that I never told her how depressed I was. I tried to explain to her that NO ONE knew. For four years, I was an excellent actress. My need to keep up the illusion of my "perfect life" was so strong that it wouldn't allow me to ask for help, or to talk about my problems with anyone. No one. Friends, family, anyone.
I would have felt exposed, naked, and much too open to the elements. I would have had to admit what I felt was a weakness, and that would never happen. I was to be strong, no matter what.
What the hell kind of bullshit was that? Where the hell did I get that kind of wacky idea? EVERYONE has problems. EVERYONE has issues. I would not have been the only one on this planet to feel sad. I have no idea why it took me so long to get over the idea that I had to be the picture of perfection.
I'm so glad my husband forced me to go get help, and I'm proud of myself for going. I'm a totally different person now. And all my worries about going on medication were for naught. I can still enjoy sex. And I can still cry and be sad. And I don't have the week-long intense urges to kill myself. And while I may have to be on this medication forever in order to feel normal, at least I don't have to feel guilty about my husband being depressed because he couldn't do anything to help me. And I don't have to worry that I will kill myself on a Monday, and no one would find me until my husband came home on Thursday because no one knew I was even having suicidal thoughts.
Thank God/dess for medication, good friends, and loved ones who give me a swift kick in the ass when I need it...
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