When I found out in 1990 that I had Clinical Depression, it flabbergasted me!
How could that be? I was always upbeat and cheerful! It had to be a mistake.
It wasn’t. And you know what? There are millions just like me.
As time went on and I learned more about my mental illness, I saw how it came about.
It began in my childhood.
I was, and still am, estranged from my family and doubted they would enter therapy with me, even though my oldest sister is a therapist.
They raised me to believe everything was my fault, and they did nothing wrong.
So, how could I get better? How could I resolve long-standing family issues without them being involved?
I’ll tell you how: I focus on what is within my power, my responsibility, my behavior. I keep my side of the street clean and let others take care of what is theirs to manage.
And by holding my head high, facing and accepting the issues that fueled my depression, resolving them and sending them back to hell where they belong.
I practice that every day and will for the rest of my life.
Seeking help was one of the best things I could have done for myself.
Are you a crafter? I am.
And this is an important part of my life in recovery.
One of my favorite crafts is making beaded jewelry.
This is a wraparound memory wire bracelet I made with blues
and fun multicolored beads.
I get to select to put together any bead color combinations I want!
And when I wear my jewelry and receive compliments, it makes my day!
I love working with real gemstones, handmade glass (not be me yet) and more.
I can add beads and what I made out of polymer clay to my crocheting.
For example, this is a cell phone case I made with black and white yarn, black and white tiny beads and the bar is made from polymer clay and painted silver.
I have blank beads of wood and bisque I can paint any color I want.
In this necklace, the gold beads are hand painted bisque.
How’s that for variety?
The possibilities are endless!
My mother and two older sisters trained me to be
nothing about me was good.
They trained me to not speak up because I had nothing of value.
They trained me to believe I would never be successful because nothing I did was right.
They trained me to believe when mother rang her bell I had to drop what I was doing
and run to wait on her.
They trained me to believe obeying and waiting on mother was the number one house
rule because she was the only important person in the house.
They trained me to believe they would tell me no kind words or loving encouragement,
They trained me to believe they could not give what they did not have.
They trained me to seek the love and affection I craved behind their backs from any
source I encountered.
They trained me to not achieve anything because they would only nitpick and mock my
They trained me to resort to drugs and alcohol because they would never help me, no
matter what I was going through. I was worse than trash to them.
I know I am forever damaged, but every day I conquer their revolting
abuse to heal my soul and I keep moving forward.
“How we feel about ourselves crucially affects virtually every aspect of our experience, from the way we function at work, in life, in sex, to the way we operate as parents to how high in life we are likely to rise. Our response to the happenings in our everyday life are shaped by who and what we are.”