Angol
Looking back I can say that I was a learning disabled, depressed, adolescent under achiever. I can also say that I was an academic success, living a privileged life, surrounded by family and friends who did, and amazingly do still, love me. How I see it depends, as so many other things in my life do, on how vigilant I have been in managing my disease. I say vigilant because if you have depression it is not like a brain tumor, a deadly weed in your garden (excuse the poetic imagery) that will be surgically removed, causing you either to recover or die. It is more like ivy, when properly managed (drugs, exercise, diet, therapy) it is only one part of your garden. Some will say it adds character, makes the roses lovelier. However depression like ivy, untended, will take over your entire garden until there is really is nothing left of you but pain. Where am I now? For the most part in a very different place then when I wrote these poems. I am drugged. I say drugged and not medicated because I do not hide from the truth. Although I recognize that I can not live with out antidepressants, much the same way a diabetic could not manage with out insulin, I identify with the street 'junkie' that for whatever reason just can't hack it with out getting his fix. These days- I don't see as much of life's darkness as I did before , and when I do see it, it doesn't hurt as much as before. I have no regrets about my decision to take and stay on antidepressants. This book is for those of you and that part of me that appreciates visiting the shady, ivy covered side of my garden.
