So maybe not starting fresh

This battle with depression seems to go on and on. Apparently, it's part of something bigger, which requires more orange bottles with childproof caps than I would prefer. I'm rather annoyed at the quantity of said bottles, actually.

My world now seems to revolve around pills, dealing with heartburn and stomach aches and insomnia, monitoring my mood, trying to talk myself out of depression before it really hits, and riding the wave of panic attacks confident that the excrutiating pain will pass within the next hour or so. Easy? Not at all.

In addition to all of the above, I have to function at work, go to rehearsals, take care of the necessities and LIVE!

Sometimes it makes me wonder...
... but there's got to be some purpose... some reason... right?

I had a dream at the end of December that I was trying to play a trombone (note that I've never even tried playing a brass instrument). I struggle with it greatly. From the dream came a poem, which I posted earlier, and a drawing that speaks to my battle with life right now.