I've come to terms with the fact that I have a genetic predisposition for depression. I didn't realize just how deep that really was until a few years ago, but it's there. I haven't taken medicine for it at this point, because I haven't really felt that I needed it. But I wouldn't be opposed to it if the need arose. When I really started writing this blog, it was after what was one of the hardest times of my life. I had "dropped my basket" and this blog was my therapy. It still is, even though I don't get time to blog as often as I once did. You wonderful people, most of whom I've never met, have become my army of encouragers and that's a gift that I don't take lightly. I am so thankful for each and every one of you.
Some days are still hard. I still don't do sudden change well. (As evidenced by a little crying jag I had just this morning over something I can neither change nor control.) I still have to work hard not to let my triggers control me. Things that are very simple for some people are not simple for me. I'm not where I want to be, but I'm also not where I was. And there's something so beautiful in the grace of that.