Her

And there I was neck deep in a bubble bath, I could hear my husband and children playing and laughing.

That didn't matter.

I had everything a 25 year old women could ever ask for. I owned a perfect sized home that I had decorated exactly the way I wanted. I had a loving husband who would move heaven and earth to make me happy, and three Beautiful little girls. Each lovely in their own different ways.

None of that mattered.

I had a few good friends who always were there when I needed them. I had hobbies and a job I didn't hate.

That didn't matter.

The older I got the stronger my “depression” grew. That's what some people would have called it, but to me it felt more like a second person hiding inside my brain. Always fighting to get out, to control what and how I felt.

Even when I did everything right and took all my medications. Did all the stuff to try and make myself “kick out of my depression” she was always there.

She was that voice in my head that told me everyone hated me. She told me people would be talking about me. She would tell me no one invited me places because they didn't like me. She would tell me that I talked too much, and no one wanted to listen to me. She constantly told me I wasn't important.

Because of her I have pushed people away for my entire life. Because of her I never knew how to except love, like I didn't deserve it. Because of her I was isolated, a single soul taking up space in this world. Even though I wasn't alone, I was surrounded by people who cared and loved me.

Some days I could make it the whole day without her interrupting my thoughts. But when night fell and bed time came. She would appear, angry for not having any spot light all day. She would show me things I did wrong from years and years ago. Show me scenarios of things in my life that could have turned out differently. She would remind me of that time in second grade I forgot to turn in an assignment. The time I left my moms tent out all weekend in the rain and ruined it.

She would take me back to my first heart break, and my second. Make me wonder why I was never good enough. She fed off of my insecurities and created so many more.

I had spent so many nights arguing with her back and forth in my head. Trying to win, trying to make her disappear. But in the end she always won.

Having a mental illness is so much more than people can see, or even try to understand.

When people wonder why the pretty, happy mother of three. With the picture perfect life swallowed a whole bottle of piles and washed it down with a bottle of wine. They wont understand.

They will make up stories and excuses. Blame the husband who tried so hard for so long to save her. Blame her say she had problems, that she never had. Maybe they will say she was stressed, had a break down.

When people kill themselves its not a rash sudden decision. Its the end of a life long fight.

A fight I have thankfully not lost, and I hope everyone who reads this does not loose. Wake up every day and fight for your life because it is your life not hers.