Book vs Blog Post(s).

I set out this morning thinking I was going to write a book, but honestly, I don’t even know where to start–blogging is so much easier. Believe it or not, I didn’t think about how much work goes into writing a book–planning it out, researching, writing and rewriting.

I started researching it last night and when I started writing about my struggle with depression this morning. But, as I was writing, I realized that I am being much more critical of what I write than if I were to just pour it all out here, so maybe this isn’t my topic for a book. I don’t know yet, but I want the world to know that depression is not the stereotypical person you see on a TV show. I am going to try and do this in parts because my journey, what I have learned about it, what it’s really like–it’s a lot to take in, a lot to get out, and it’s not something you can sum up into 1,000 words or less.

I am more of a word vomit person than an edit, plan, and execute. I want it to be raw and real and I worry that if I make it a book, I won’t finish it or get the right message across. But, I also worry that if I do blog posts no one will want to read through all of them and I really want to make depression less of a stigma–I want it to be real and less alien to everyone.

I guess now is when I go back to my roots–pray for guidance and that whatever I am meant to share comes out, no matter where I share it.

10 years.

Image may contain: text10 years too long. Deep breath.

10 years ago, my sister, my best friend, and I were heading home from church. We were in a car accident that–well, pretty much killed my sister instantly. She was on life support for a day until they ruled that she had absolutely no brain activity. My best friend was put into a coma. About a year after the accident, he started showing signs of improvement. But, nonetheless, passed away a month later.

It’s been 10 years…

10 years ago, I didn’t think I would be able to make it one day without them. I could barely breathe, didn’t want to be around anyone, and couldn’t understand the why.

Today–today I am stuck between being proud that I am still alive and ashamed that I’ve made it 10 years. It has not been an easy 10 years and there many times I thought it would just be easier to be done with life. I hate myself some days because I don’t feel like I should be able to live without my two best friends. If you love people as much as you say you do or think you do, how does it not kill you to keep living without them?!

Some days I am fighting to live for them. Their lives were cut short and I feel like I have to make up for them not being here. Other days… other days I can barely pull myself out of bed and I still wonder why I wasn’t taken and they were. I always feel like they contributed so much more to life and to blessing so many people.

I find myself angry some days and ready to yell at my kids because they did something they shouldn’t have and I think what a waste of life I am… I know my kiddos wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made it. But, this isn’t the life I saw myself leading. This is not the difference that I wanted to make–most of the time I don’t feel like I am making much of any.

Truth be told.. I feel like my sister would’ve had an easier time trying to reconnect with family too.

But, for some crazy reason… she’s not here and I am. So, I’ll put myself in situations that make me uncomfortable and try to keep living. I’ll tell myself to breathe through the panic and anxiety attacks. I’ll fight the anger inside me and try to love my kiddos even more.

On the days I want to give up the most, those are the days I have to fight the hardest… for those I lost and those I’ve gained.

10 years.

10 years still blows.

10 years too long. Deep breath.

10 years ago, my sister, my best friend, and I were heading home from church. We were in a car accident that–well, pretty much killed my sister instantly. She was on life support for a day until they ruled that she had absolutely no brain activity. My best friend was put into a coma. About a year after the accident, he started showing signs of improvement. But, nonetheless, passed away a month later.

It’s been 10 years…

10 years ago, I didn’t think I would be able to make it one day without them. I could barely breathe, didn’t want to be around anyone, and couldn’t understand the why.

Today–today I am stuck between being proud that I am still alive and ashamed that I’ve made it 10 years. It has not been an easy 10 years and there many times I thought it would just be easier to be done with life. I hate myself some days because I don’t feel like I should be able to live without my two best friends. If you love people as much as you say you do or think you do, how does it not kill you to keep living without them?!

Some days I am fighting to live for them. Their lives were cut short and I feel like I have to make up for them not being here. Other days… other days I can barely pull myself out of bed and I still wonder why I wasn’t taken and they were. I always feel like they contributed so much more to life and to blessing so many people.

I find myself angry some days and ready to yell at my kids because they did something they shouldn’t have and I think what a waste of life I am… I know my kiddos wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made it. But, this isn’t the life I saw myself leading. This is not the difference that I wanted to make–most of the time I don’t feel like I am making much of any.

Truth be told.. I feel like my sister would’ve had an easier time trying to reconnect with family too.

But, for some crazy reason… she’s not here and I am. So, I’ll put myself in situations that make me uncomfortable and try to keep living. I’ll tell myself to breathe through the panic and anxiety attacks. I’ll fight the anger inside me and try to love my kiddos even more.

On the days I want to give up the most, those are the days I have to fight the hardest… for those I lost and those I’ve gained.

10 years.

10 years still blows.

10 years too long. Deep breath.

10 years ago, my sister, my best friend, and I were heading home from church. We were in a car accident that–well, pretty much killed my sister instantly. She was on life support for a day until they ruled that she had absolutely no brain activity. My best friend was put into a coma. About a year after the accident, he started showing signs of improvement. But, nonetheless, passed away a month later.

It’s been 10 years…

10 years ago, I didn’t think I would be able to make it one day without them. I could barely breathe, didn’t want to be around anyone, and couldn’t understand the why.

Today–today I am stuck between being proud that I am still alive and ashamed that I’ve made it 10 years. It has not been an easy 10 years and there many times I thought it would just be easier to be done with life. I hate myself some days because I don’t feel like I should be able to live without my two best friends. If you love people as much as you say you do or think you do, how does it not kill you to keep living without them?!

Some days I am fighting to live for them. Their lives were cut short and I feel like I have to make up for them not being here. Other days… other days I can barely pull myself out of bed and I still wonder why I wasn’t taken and they were. I always feel like they contributed so much more to life and to blessing so many people.

I find myself angry some days and ready to yell at my kids because they did something they shouldn’t have and I think what a waste of life I am… I know my kiddos wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t made it. But, this isn’t the life I saw myself leading. This is not the difference that I wanted to make–most of the time I don’t feel like I am making much of any.

Truth be told.. I feel like my sister would’ve had an easier time trying to reconnect with family too.

But, for some crazy reason… she’s not here and I am. So, I’ll put myself in situations that make me uncomfortable and try to keep living. I’ll tell myself to breathe through the panic and anxiety attacks. I’ll fight the anger inside me and try to love my kiddos even more.

On the days I want to give up the most, those are the days I have to fight the hardest… for those I lost and those I’ve gained.

10 years.

10 years still blows.