I.....need......help (oh that was difficult)

I've started this so many times and so many ways. It's hard for me to ask for help. It's hard for me to say that I needed help.
The last few years have been an emotional roller coaster for me. In the last seven years my husband has deployed 3 times. Once to Iraq and twice to Afghanistan. I lost my paternal grand father and watched as my sister buried her child. I lost an uncle who was more like my brother. Watched as all of my babies started school. Watched as my baby sister took her first steps on her own. Dealt with the emotional blows of reintegration. Handled the emotions of three children while their father was deployed. Watched and waited as my mother had her first surgery, ever.
The highs and lows of life took their toll on me and it took crying over spilled milk for me to realize that it was time to get help. I am standing in my kitchen with a blue cup in my hand. I reach over to place it on the table and some how the cup falls from my hand and falls to the floor. All I can think is damn it! Now I have a mess to clean up. The tears start...and I can't stop them even as I realize that the cup was empty and there is not a mess to clean up. The tears just keep coming. They continue as I call and make an appointment to talk to somebody. Anybody that can help the feeling of sadness go away. I never wanted to hurt myself or anyone else. I was just sad and blue and lonely so very, very lonely.

Getting help for my depression was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life.
I believe it was hard for me to get help because I kept telling myself that I had nothing to be depressed over. My kids are healthy, I have a beautiful home, my husband is as much in love with me as I am with him, I have friends, and my bills are paid. Why would I be depressed? What was there to be depressed about?

Admitting that I had stopped taking care of myself was a hard step to take. Admitting that I couldn't get rid of the blues on my own, was even harder.

This time last year, I was barely getting out of bed. I was out of bed long enough to get the kids out the door and to get them fed in the afternoon. Nothing was fun. Everything I did I felt like I did it because it was expected. I wanted to have fun, but I couldn't. Reading wasn't enjoyable, cooking wasn't enjoyable, and I couldn't figure out why. I felt like there was a cloud over me all of the time. There was no reason to smile. I wanted too, but I just couldn't do it. I don't know what my friends saw, but all I could see was sadness.

I got help. I allowed myself to be put on medication and I found a therapist. I was diagnosed with a severe case of situational depression. My brain wasn't adjusting to the ups and downs anymore. My brain and my emotions had taken a time out.
I look back to last year and I don't recognize the person I was. After 12 months of regular medication and therapy I feel like me, finally. Being depressed for me was a physical feeling. Nothing was sunny, there was a cloud over everything. Sleeping made it all go away, so I stayed in bed. Staying in bed didn't fix anything, nor did it give me a chance to deal with the emotions of life. I needed help!!!

If any of you that are reading this, feel blue or feel like nothing is bright and sunny; get help.
Being strong doesn't mean that nothing bothers you. Being strong means you have the ability to bend. Being strong means you ask for help when you can't keep the pieces together alone.