I have no answers to any of these questions, and for a person with control issues, that is a terrifying experience. All I can ask is that I at least make it out of this in one piece. I’m going to try, but whatever strength I had has long since left me.
Rebecca Lombardo began writing as a child. In third grade, she told everyone that her dream was to be a writer. At the age of 19, she was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, but continued to write poetry into her 20’s, until her illness consumed so much of her time and energy, that she just lost the will to write.
She never gave up her dream to be a writer, but the despair she felt over not being able to find the words anymore was just too much for her to take, so she gave up writing for many, many years. Sporadically, she would begin a journal, blog, or even write a poem for her beloved husband, but it was never the same again.
In the summer of 2013, Rebecca faced one of the biggest struggles of her life. After losing both her mom to lung cancer in 2008, and her brother to an accident (on her birthday) in 2011, she felt as if she was drowning. Her physical health continued to deteriorate, and the migraines that were once just a nuisance became a constant, and would sometimes last 6-7 days at a time, and were cause for countless trips to the emergency room.
Trying to pick up the pieces of her life after her mother’s death, she moved forward with running her own pet sitting business, and attempted an online multi-level marketing business. Yet, she fell apart, and there was no way she was going to come back on her own this time. She attempted to take her own life, and was hospitalized against her will in a horrible, horrible place.
When she came out, in roughly the first week in July, her PTSD, anxiety, depression, and grief were overwhelming, and she decided to begin writing again. When the words began to flow easier and easier, she decided that she would be willing to turn it into a blog so that others could see her struggle and know that it’s a vicious cycle but it can be overcome. She hoped that in addition, it would help her get past all of these horrible experiences. As her writing went on, she would receive more and more feedback from total strangers, sometimes in other countries, that would thank her for telling her story. They were grateful that because of her, they were now able to get help.
Eventually, she reached out to a couple of websites that she was fond of, and was invited to be a contributing writer on each. When her work was finally becoming validated, she felt as if she may be able to turn her blog into a book, to try and help even more people.
At 41 years of age and happily married for nearly 13 years, Rebecca can finally say that she is on her way to reaching her dream. Not only does she hope to help people that are struggling with depression, she hopes to help them realize that you are never too old to find your voice, and make your dream happen.
Rebecca lives in a suburb in Michigan with her husband, Joseph and 5 cats. 4 of which were rescued. Her father lives a short distance away, and is going to be turning 85 this year. She has 3 brothers and 1 sister as well as several nieces and nephews.
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I made new friends and met a lot of people online. You know, in the 90’s when it wasn’t quite as terrifying as it is now. Back then, not once did I think I was talking to a pedophile or a stalker. I was lucky that everyone I met was who they said they were.
There comes a time when despite your best efforts to avoid further chaos in your life, you are faced with a crisis. Regardless of your emotional state, you have to find a way to maintain your sanity and weather the storm. In my case, it just so happens that this crisis involved my father. He will be turning 85 on September 20th. As far as someone who is 84 is concerned, he is in good health. However, he does suffer with terrible memory loss, and has occasionally been known to pass out. A few weeks ago, for a reason that is unclear, he proceeded down to the basement in his house, lost his balance, and fell. The floor in the basement is essentially concrete. By the time I heard about it, he was in the ER at the hospital nearby, and was just a mess.
My OK Day was yesterday. I stopped for a moment and remembered how completely in love I am in with my husband, and that through everything, I will forever be grateful for his presence in my life. He had just left the house to run an errand, and I needed him to know that I was OK. I sent him a text thanking him for being my knight in shining armor. That is what he is to me, and he is my everything.
So, now that you have found your moment of bliss, the next thing you or your loved ones say is, “Let’s hope it lasts a little while.” It’s a normal reaction. It would be phenomenal if the path to a happy life was paved with hope. Once that statement is made, the tiny little bit of logic I have resting somewhere in my brain reminds me to stop. Don’t hope for more. Live with what you have right now.
I learned a long time ago that one of the biggest traits that my depression brings out in me is the fear of failure. One thing goes wrong, and that’s it….I failed…..AGAIN.
So, I say to myself when I am fortunate enough to realize I am on that path, don’t hope. Ironically enough, most people reach out and hold onto hope like it’s their life line. I cannot. What happens if I don’t have another good day tomorrow? What if I spent my one good opportunity just hoping for the next?
It creeps up on me slowly, but it’s always there. The F word. You failed. Another hope, dream, goal, and plan for your future is unattainable because you let your depression steal it from you. And whether this makes sense to the average person or not, our brains will turn this into our biggest failure yet.
Regret and guilt will soon follow, and you wonder if you were ever really happy at all. I know how “crazy” it all sounds. When I say crazy, I mean silly, odd, strange, and even peculiar. Not mentally ill. Even as I write this, I wonder who will truly understand.
Everything I write has a purpose, and because of that, I feel like everything I write has an audience. Even if this blog reaches ONE person who has felt as I have, I’ve succeeded in what I was trying to do.