Enough is enough

And I've had enough. I'm tired of this roller coaster. I'm depressed. I'm fine. I'm depressed. I'm fine. I've suffered from depression since I went through puberty. That was roughly twenty years ago (and where did that twenty years go anyway?). Twenty years of yo-yoing emotions. Of never feeling good enough, of feeling like all I did was feel sorry for myself, of wondering what was the fastest and most painless way to end it all. Twenty years of denial. I can handle this by myself. I just need to exercise more, sleep more, do more, feel more, live more and it will all be ok. It's not. It hasn't been. I'm tired of feeling like half a person. Depression, to me, doesn't feel like everyone else has deserted me; it feels like I have deserted myself. I can still see my dreams, goals and ambitions. But they're all over there and I can't figure out how to get to them. I can't figure out how to be me anymore. And it causes so many issues. I don't want to pass this on to my kids. I don't want to have kids right away either. How do I tell Wes that? Do I just pray I don't get pregnant until next January? He's so excited. I know because I talked to another wife and she already knew we were going to try to start a family. Everyone on the ship knows. But I just don't feel ready right now, even if he does. I need to work my way out of this depression. I don't want to be on medication. I guess it's a pride thing. But I think that would be best right now. And I need to start doing what I know works to get my ass in gear: a daily to do list split into 15 minute increments. Yes, it is a long list, but it works. And I'm going to start working soon. And I joined the botanical gardens. And I'm going to get a haircut (yes, that still works). But I've got to get out of this fog. I have to live again. I have too much I want to do. I have too much to live for. I have too much.