What I found, finally coming out of 15 years of depression since my late husband died, is that I needed a genuinely supportive community, which my family of origin was not. I loved them, maybe they loved me . . . but all, or most, of what we supported about each other, was the "outside". We all learned to cover up our deep pains. Other people didn't want to see them. And I know that when my daughter was little and looked at me like I had hurt her, I pulled back, rather than going toward her, because I identified with her pain but I had never resolved mine, or had it accepted by anybody else.

All you have to get through is one minute at a time, one step at a time, one breath at a time. I told myself, every time I felt unbearable pain, and it went away again (because I dissociated). . . every time I have felt that I have "borne" it for the instant before it went away, and eventually I have gotten through it (I think).

Today I went to a meetup group with other people to celebrate life, and I was happy!! Yes, happy to be there and although I left early it's one more step toward life, not away from it.

I think maybe that that deep shame is so painful because it separated me from me -- I was torn asunder, had been since early childhood, only I had also "covered it up" somehow to keep on surviving.

Eventually mine has come (is coming) together. I'm wishing you the best for your journey -- one moment at a time.