Yesterday I received some less than lovely comments and a few emails, all of which I deleted. (Promise all of you whose comments are showing in yesterdays post, it wasn’t you. In fact, none of it came from people I know.) It’s hard not to take it personally, even if it comes from strangers.

Here’s where it got a little mean though. There is this idea that therapy is a magic fix. I was told that I’m depressed, bitter, angry and need therapy. Therapy would make me better. Therapy would magically cure all of my ills. If I was in therapy, I’d find happiness and not have any more problems. Then, I’d stop writing depressing posts and everyone would like me. Yes, that last part was actually said to me.

I know this is my blog. I know I can do, or not do whatever I want and say whatever I want. I just want this out there, so everyone knows. Maybe then, the people who like to tell me how depressing I am, will at least get a clue and hit the little red X at the top of the screen.

I am in therapy. I have been since September. I am paying out of pocket, 100% for a very good therapist. I could have paid for a new Macbook, paid for BlogHer 2010 and taken my kids to DisneyLand this summer on what I’ve paid for therapy so far. I won’t be doing any of those things, because my mental health is more important.

I am medicated. I know there can be a stigma behind it. I don’t really care. In this moment, I need it. We tried lowering it for a few months and I’ve had to up it again in the last few weeks. Will I need it forever? Maybe. Do I know I need it to function right now? To keep my depression managable? Yes. I do.

Every day, I get out of bed and do what I need to do to take care of me and my kids. And the dog, the house and the car.

My dad and step-mom are morons who have no idea what they are missing out on. My dad choose his wife and her evil spawn over me and my brothers, years and years ago. I can’t change that. Nothing I do, or say will change that. No matter what I said yesterday, I know this to be true. I stopped mattering to him, when he moved in with her. My brother fared only a bit better. I am used to and pretty much ignore his lack of interest in me. However, when it comes to my brother, I get angry.

In September, I started dealing with abuse issues from my childhood. I’d never, ever dealt with any of it before. I’d stuffed it all. Un-stuffing it, almost broke me. It still owns me. Maybe it won’t one day, but it does in this moment.

In January, my husband left me. My husband of almost 11 years. The only man I’ve ever been with. After 16 years together, he no longer loves me.This? Is not something I can get over in seven weeks. It’s gonna take awhile.

Friends who I’ve known my entire life are not really my friends anymore. A lot of reasons have contributed to this. Mostly though, we’ve all changed. None of us are the people we once were. Especially me. I’ve made amazing new friends, none of whom live here. Sometimes that really sucks, because I feel very alone here. However, they are all worth it.

All of this is harsh. It’s hard to deal with.  This place, my blog, is a form of therapy for me. One that’s way cheaper than the amazing woman I see every week. I write what I’m feeling. I write my inner thoughts. I am doing the best I can. It may not be enough for some people. If you find me to be too much to deal with, please, feel free to stop reading. I understand. But I’m not going to stop writing what I want too on my blog.