I write another post about the complicated jumble inside my head and I pause. Do I really want to blog about all of this garbage?
Well, no. I absolutely do not.
I don’t want to admit all of the stuff that I admit here. But it’s more than that, of course. I don’t want to have these thoughts, these feelings, to admit to.
I don’t want my kids to have a mom who gets depressed. I don’t want my husband to have a wife who disappears. I don’t want to cajole myself into not giving up, into fighting back against my own brain, into staying present when I’d really rather disappear.
I don’t want to be mentally ill.