My husband and I just had a conversation that brought to the forefront how much growth I’ve made since figuring out the depression I battled for 12 years.
There was one emotion and feeling that dramatically fed the flames of the depression I fought:
Fear that my children might make the wrong choices.
Fear that I might be seen as less than because I was struggling.
Fear that I would battle depression for the rest of my life.
Fear that something was wrong with me.
Fear that I couldn’t really say what was going on in my head.
Fear that I had done something wrong.
Fear that the side effects of the medication would get worse.
Fear that the depression would get worse.
Fear that I was turning into someone I had no control over.
Fear that the people closest to me would really never want to hear me.
Fear that I was broken.
Fear that my children might have the same struggle.
Fear had my power. I cowered to it. I believed it.
What I didn’t know then but I know now is:
What choice are you making with your fears?