November 9. Again.

People recognize anniversaries of all sorts of things.  Birthdays.  Weddings.  First dates. Passings of loved ones. Major national events.

What is November 9 for me?  Tomorrow will be 9 years since the ugly specter of depression has been a diagnosed part of my life.  Nine years since the day which started with the high-pitched, unending screaming of a toddler who could not tell us what he needed.  Nine years since I could not step foot in my sixth grade classroom because I could not pull myself together after 16 years of teaching middle level, mainly because I had no patience left by 7:45 AM.  Nine years since this metaphor rang true: You must put on your own oxygen mask before you can assist your children.  Nine years ago, I thought for sure my sane life was over.

What has happened over the last nine years?  A grade-level change that I viewed as temporary, but God keeps reminding me is actually the best thing for me. Going back to school with the hopes of surviving year after year, when, in fact, I thrive.  Expanding my circle of friends and colleagues.  Relying on God more than ever before.  Realizing that anything can be lived through.  An exceptionally wonderful son raised to age 18, who completed high school and is commencing through college.  Losing 40 pounds, gaining 40 pounds back, a result of going on and off meds.  Saying my earthly goodbye to my grandmother, as well as some friends.  Going through the diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorders with both of my sons.  Getting an equally wonderful son into school and making sure his needs are met every year.  Moving closer to some friends, and farther away from others, like the ebb and flow of the sea.  In and out of therapy.  Creating my own therapy of scrapbooking and cardmaking.  Attaining Master's degree number 2 in Educational Leadership.  Moving in and out of people's good graces in my work life because I insist that things be said and not ignored.

As I type, I am trying to wean off of my second SSID.  I am not sure this weaning is a good idea after today and the motivation suck it has been, but it HAD been going well.  But this weekend involved embracing the death of another loved one and its grenade-like shock on my soul.  Death is always a catalyst for depression in me.  But I am fighting like hell to smack it down this time.  We shall see.