To make a long story short,
I remember, around age 12, feeling so totally alone.
This overwhelming sadness had come over me.
As I look back, I now know that this was more than
just being an emotional adolescent.
This was the first time I met Depression.
I was not diagnosed until I was 19.
On a cloudy, very cold, snowy Winter day,
I ended up walking to Hamilton Center,
a mental health center in my town.
I felt I had to do something.
I was going crazy with sadness.
It was consuming my life.
Now, at age 44
having been diagnosed with Major
Depressive Disorder and Anxiety
(among a few other things),
I refuse to hide my mental illness.
I am not alone.
You are not alone.
I am no longer ashamed.
I will fill in the missing years
as time goes by.