Over the years, I have surprised myself by being able to continue on past what I thought was my limit. It really is amazing. I don’t really know what the alternative is… I guess crawling into bed and never coming out again? Trust me, there are definitely days where that is all I want to do, but I have two lovely little kitties that require feeding and loving.

This neck/shoulder/back stuff, however, seems to be pushing it. I think I finally found a limit. A hard and fast limit.

I’ve been debating posting this because… well, because. This is going to be a very frank discussion on hitting limits and depression. I don’t like to discuss my depression, at least not the part of it that’s active. Depression tends to gain a lot of pity, and I hate pity. Depression is a part of who I am, it’s something I live with daily, it’s something that is always going to be a part of me. However, depression does not define me, and usually I have a pretty good grip on it. Usually.

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