I just realized how long it's been since I've posted. It's amazing how during the day something will happen that I think would make an interesting post, but when I sit down at the computer I have no clue what it was.
The problem hasn't been not having anything to say, it's been not wanting to say it. I've been having an identity crisis and I haven't wanted to talk about it. Since this is the place where I promised myself that I would always be honest, I've avoided it like the plague.
I think that I've got a handle on the identity crisis now, but it's still not something that I want to put out there for anybody to read. I've had to be honest enough with myself to admit that there are some things that are too personal to put in writing. This is why I never kept a diary as a teenager. Because seiously, that would have been my sister's favorite book to read, no matter how well I thought I had it hidden.
The problem with having an identity crisis is that it'll throw the most level person into a depression. When you're already battling depression, it throws you into pits of despair. I know that I've talked before about the fact that I battle depression, but I often wonder if anybody who doesn't deal with clinical depression can really understand what it's like. The black cloud, the fog, the lack of any drive to do anything. The way that the simplest task seems overwhelming. And then there's the toll that it takes on your family. It's really more than I could ever hope to acurately describe.
The fact that I'm back gives me hope. I'm returning to the land of the living. Of course, I'm not cured, there'll always be that battle. But for the moment I appear to be winning. And for the moment, that's enough.