The Bloggess. I find, all too often, people mock depression. People mock the struggle, they mock because of those who abuse it for a disability check, they mock because they've never been there, and they mock because they can't see the bleeding. I suffer from anxiety. When I say suffer, I mean that. It's not the same. I'm perfectly aware that it isn't the same, but I think it gives me some empathy for those who suffer so much that they seriously don't have the will to live, and when they're finally rising out the depths is when they have the strength to commit suicide. How ironic is that? It reminds me of the phenomena wherein a terminally ill person seems to get well all of a sudden, right before he dies. And yet, people still don't believe. Everyone believes in friggin' breast cancer. How many don't believe/understand how many babies struggle to live, to breathe, even though the parents sacrificed everything to have them, and have done everything possible to have a healthy child? How many people, on the same end, don't believe that depression is real, or that it really affects people?
The Bloggess wants to see people wear silver ribbons for depression. I want to see more purple in support of babies like my son. My son, the beautiful light of my life, the cheerful happy child who is delighted to see anyone who will smile at him, that some people have said wasn't worth saving because he was born too early and so very very small. I have a lot of ribbons to wear.
Here's her original post about her struggles with depression: (I hope my ramblings didn't go too far off base).
|For the babies: Prematurity awareness.|
|For Depression. For every person who struggles to feel alive.|