I GET SCARED SOMETIMES.

I am a sufferer of chronic pain who also suffers from depression. Consequently, I take medications for both problems. Recently, I began to get migraines, and, when they didn't disappear, my doctor gave me another drug.
My pain meds are pretty heavy duty, but I limit them. I take depression pills in the morning, and pain pills at night. One of my pain meds, I'm slowly trying to eliminate since I retired. After, I will try to get rid of the sleeping pills (it's a small dose.)
I take some pills because I take other pills. It's like chasing your tail. Nonetheless, everything I take, I try to take the least amount possible. It's hard to be ready to go in the mornings, when the pain often keeps me up at night. And if the pain doesn't keep me up, it's because I have nuked it with pain medication. There is no way I am up and at 'em to greet the day.
The worse thing is, pain drugs often exacerbate the depression. And now, we have added yet another pill to the mix. (Since the migraines are gone, I am skipping the headache pill tonight. I hope it helps. I think it is the cause of this new relapse.)

When I started taking the pills for migraines, they gave me an old-school anti-depressant in a small dose. It is a standard treatment. The docs aren't treating the pain, but trying to break the cycle.
This is how the beast re-entered my live! Since I started those migraine capsules, I noticed, I am getting those old crazy thoughts again, especially at night. Those "you should disappear off of the face of the earth" thoughts.
Depression, is a strange sort of disease. I can give you a very good argument for the futility of life when I am descending into hell. I will spare you this. I'm not looking for anyone to feel sorry for me, or to offer advice. I am a little scared though. I've been through this before, but just because I am familiar with it, hell is still terrifying.
That voice inside (this is an expression, I don't hear voices) tells me what a bum I am. It tells me that I'm a poor excuse for a human. The worse thing about it is this--I don't want to be fixed when I am in this mood. It's insidious. I don't want to be saved. I don't care to hear the arguments about the beauty of life. This is depression at its most evil.
I am one of the lucky people though. My novel needs finishing, and, I want to write another book after that. So, this ego that needs to be fed keeps me getting up in the morning. I love to write, and I want to be heard, so, before I can check out, I've got things to do.

I don't suppose I have much of a point in this piece. My ego keeps me alive, even though at some moments, I think the world doesn't really care if I live or not. Here's the advice to people who suffer from the beast of depression. Find something to do. Write or draw or pet your dog or go be nice to someone you don't know. Volunteer if you can. Kiss your children. Do something. Your life depends on it.

God bless you all. I really am okay.