I've always had down days, days where I felt tired, frustrated or self-loathing. Many of those days led to darker thoughts and intense fatigue. Doctors said I had chronic fatigue syndrome.

I knew  the doctors were wrong. 
But I didn't know what it was. I'd get through the days and go on to live a fairly normal few weeks or months, until I'd break down again and feel as though the world was crushing me. Then I'd get through it again and ignore the episode.
Until one day in 2011 when my entire world seemed to crash around me. 
I guess it wasn't really just one day. It built slowly over time, taking me deeper and deeper until one day I realized I couldn't get out alone. I realized that I wasn't going to make it if something drastic didn't happen immediately.
It wasn't that I particularly cared about surviving at that point. In fact, I dreamed of how fabulous it would be to make the pain end and be done with life.                                                                                         But I've never been a quitter. 

Even when the pain became so intense that I thought it would simply shut down my vitals, I had this instinct to survive, an instinct I wished would vanish so I could feel nothing ... 
Finally I sought help.
Meds made me vomit or hallucinate. Some made the depression worse. Therapy brought out memories that were so real and immediate that I wanted to hide them away again. 
Worst of all, I quit writing. Writing had been my refuge. 
I think back on it and I'm mortified by everything I put my family and friends through, but then I realize that it's a miracle I even survived. They were my support, my push to make me keep going. And when I came up with, and finally told them my plans for survival, they backed me 100%. The plan: Open a cupcake shop and stay immensely busy.
Yes, a cupcake shop ... 
It's 2014 now, and I'm alive. I bake. I write. I laugh with my family. Most days I'm immensely happy.
But the depression likes to make an appearance every now and then. And when it does, I fight back now.
I have a friend who gave me some excellent advice. She said,You have three seconds. 

From the time a thought enters your head, you have three seconds to shut  it down or it will grow. Three seconds can propel you deep into depression or turn it around. Three seconds is not a lot of time, but it's enough.
What I've learned the most though, is that opening up about my depression has helped me connect with other people who've survived the same.There are a lot of us.

And so, I'm through hiding my depression. I'm through believing that I'm alone ...