I had another vacation and it was another miracle. Not just because vacations are incredible and fantastic and rejuvenating. Not even just because this vacation was truly a gift from God, as I didn’t have the money to go but ended up with miles and a free place to stay in Playa del Carmen (near Cancun, and far more beautiful because it’s not so Vegas-y). But also because, as I mentioned here, I have been in paradise on vacation and been suicidal. Like I mentioned in the other post – being depressed on vacation really brings it home that the problem was with ME.
It wasn’t the weather; the weather was incredible, sunny, warm, and absolutely ideal for me.
It wasn’t the surroundings: warm ocean, snorkeling, beautiful fish, tropical flowers, white beach.
It wasn’t the company: my brother is my favorite person in my family and easiest to get along with (aside from my baby niece and now my sister-in-law)
It wasn’t anything external. It was me. And it felt like even more of a waste than depression usually seems to be because I wanted so badly to be enjoying the weather, food, company, and activities. And I wasn’t just not enjoying it – I was actively miserable. I was thinking about wanting to be dead.