Hanging on like that cat on a screen door

Some days, I feel like I'm barely hanging on.  Yeah, I know, life for me could be a LOOOOOOTTTTTT worse.  So I remember how grateful I am for what I have.  However...

I am depressed.  I know I am, I've struggled with this for 13 years now, ever since my freshmen year of college.  I go through these cycles every now and then and I am a stubborn bitch and so therefore I pull out of it.  Eventually.  Most times when I'm depressed all I want to do is sleep and ignore the world and forget about everything and all of my responsibilities and loved ones and I become a hermit.  Lately, I still have the urge to sleep non-stop, but I'm continuing to go to work, do my job, be with friends, go out on the weekends, attend parties and social events, etc.  That's usually what pulls me out of it - persistence.  But today, as I sit here in my lovely apartment knowing that I am loved by God, by my family, my best friends, my adorable man-friend, my sorority sisters, my work team, my acquaintances even, I am still in a funk.  A big funk.

To be clear - never ever ever in my life have I ever felt that death was a viable option to life.  Suffering in any sense means that one is alive, and to be alive is a great blessing.

But I am still depressed.  For probably two and a half months I have been avoiding coming to terms with what's going on in my mind.  I've done everything I normally do to overcome these feelings, yet nothing has changed.  I have thought time and again about making an appointment with my doctor, but I feel like a fraud, like all I ever make appointments with my doctor for is the flu, or a pap smear, or tonsillitis, and now depression.  I see my doctor mayyyyyyybe twice a year, and that's a good thing!  But I just can't bring myself to pick up the phone and tell her I think I need help...  I know some of my best friends have gone to their doctors and found help with their depression, I am not opposed to therapy (and if you know a good psychologist in the Pasadena area, let me know), and I can confide in my best friends, my lovebug, and my sister.  And yet I'm still in this place.

As I type this, I feel silly.  I also have tears falling down my cheeks, collecting under my chin like a melted icicle.  It's time.

I'm committed to calling my doctor tomorrow, and I will pull out of depression yet again.  It's strange that I can type about this to a blog, and find some resolution to this whirlwind of emotions and feelings, but it's a good thing.  Life is mysterious, if anything, and I'm grateful for that.