One evening I was fixing a magnesium concoction, chatting with a friend. We were talking about my depression, and this new holistic route I was taking.
“You have everything you need inside you to get better,” she said.
Yeah, I suppose I do, I thought. I mean, why would God create you with some missing pieces?
A few months later my husband found me in our bedroom closet, in a fetal position, unable to move.
I was horribly depressed and hiding from the kids.
He begged me to change courses, to go to Johns Hopkins Mood Disorders Clinic for a consultation.
I was stubborn and wouldn’t budge.
I was positive that I had everything within me that I needed to get better.
Then his voice cracked and he started crying.
“Please,” he begged me. “Do this for me.”
So I started taking pills again.