Climbing Out the Black Hole

I battle with depression and have been so for as long as I can recall. I was taken from my mother at age two. My first memory is just sitting like a lump on the floor of the orphange watching the reflecttion of the christmas lights. Every so often someone dressed in white and screeching shoe would look at me, write something down and then hurry off. I 've been five abusive foster homes including the family that adopted me. My adopted father, a minister molested me almost nightly. Even as I write this I feel the walls closing in and light growing darker, but it has to be said. I now have a disciplined spiritual path that has been helpful, so that now I know there is a difference between feeling good and feeling depressed.
geocruz geocruz
41-45, M
May 25, 2007