As time passed by, more and more responsibility was given to me within my section. When internal funding ran out for my position, a successful bid was made to a local partnership, enabling the service to keep me on.
I became more and more involved in the job and it provided me with a feeling of having achieved something. The depression seemed to fade, but what I didn’t know was that a combination of the effect of the medication and the enjoyment of my job was merely masking it.
There was a part of me, I think, that realised this was the truth, but there was another part that wanted to be able to stand up on my own without the medication.
My brother and I had inherited some money and I took the opportunity to make some changes in my life. I moved into a flat of my own, furnishing it with only things that I really liked. My home was beautiful. My rent was paid up six months in advance. I treated my sons and ensured that they were taken care of too.
It looked as though finally my life was on the right track. My life was full and busy. There was so much going on that I rarely had time to really stop and think. And I felt that my past was finally behind me. The only thing that still bothered me was the way that I had lost my father - so quickly with no warning. I could not come to terms with the fact that he had seemed to be getting over the loss of my mother and it was just so unfair that he should be struck down.
So, I booked the trip to South Africa that I had been planning with him.
The plan was to travel to all the places that he and my mother had loved, as well as to visit my father’s family. I hoped that this would give me an opportunity to share in their memories and to finally let go of them.
Life was good, I had so much to be grateful for and yet the depression still lurked just below the surface.
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