There was a time when depression ruled my world. It wasn't my depression. At least it didn't start out as mine.
Over the course of three years, both my spouse and my mother had each fallen into a deep, dark depression.
He had undergone three spinal surgeries. She fell and broke her leg. Then a year to the day, she had another fall and broke her other leg.
I had always been the “fixer,” the “feel better” person, there to help family and friends get through their dark times. But after three years of trying, it was apparent that no matter what I said or did they weren't going to move on. They didn't want to shake off their depression. They owned their “victim” status, they chose to let it rule their existence.
I had failed as a “fixer” …. I fell victim to their depression.
These pieces were created during that time.
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