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My Journey from Darkness to Light
My Journey from Darkness to Light
My Journey from Darkness to Light
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My Journey from Darkness to Light

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'My Journey from Darkness to Light' is a book about recovering from depression and bi-polar illness.

It offers solid ideas that have made a real difference in my life and the lives of others. 'My Journey From Darkness to Light' is for those who have or are dealing with feelings of daily discouragement or dysfunctional depression. This is one journey you'll be glad you went on.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 31, 2012
ISBN9781476207575
My Journey from Darkness to Light
Author

Patricia Potts

I am a wife, mother, writer, speaker and singer. Through the grace of God I lived through depression then wrote about it.

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    Book preview

    My Journey from Darkness to Light - Patricia Potts

    My Journey from Darkness to Light

    How to Overcome Depression and Bi-Polar Illness One Step at a Time

    By Patricia Tew Potts

    Endorsements

    I enjoyed reading your book! It was a courageous and poignant view through the window of depression and bipolar disorder. Your honesty touched me. Thank you for giving a brave voice to your experience.

    -- Toni Polich

    I started reading My Journey from Darkness to Light and couldn’t put it down. I would keep reading—just one more page. What a wonderfully written book. What a powerful story.

    – Sue Merchant

    My Journey from Darkness to Light

    Patricia Potts

    Published by Patricia Potts at Smashwords

    Copyright 2012 Patricia Potts

    Acknowledgments

    I’m thankful to Jesus, who let His light shine through my darkness and made this book possible.

    I thank my husband, Dan, for sticking with me even when it was painful and for believing in better days to come. His expert editing in my writing endeavors has not only corrected my many errors, but brought interest and insight to the work. I thank him for the many sacrifices he has made so that I could follow my dream of writing and speaking. Dan has also been invaluable in helping me keep my feet on the ground and find greater balance.

    I thank my children; Cindy, Heidi, Tiffany, Trisha, and Joseph who lived through my up and down moods, yet still loved their mother. Thanks to Joseph, Tiffany and our foster daughter, Josie, for encouraging me to write my story. A special thanks to Trisha for typing and to Heidi and my sister, Cindy, for editing. An extra thanks goes to my mom who has been there with me through life’s tough times and also helped edit.

    I thank my faithful forever friend, Darla. She tirelessly reminds me, you are a writer!, when I get discouraged. She also teaches me how to learn by the spirit, how to write by the spirit and how to know when my work has finally cooked enough to come out of the oven. Her advice on newsletters, articles, and books through the years has been invaluable. Thanks for being my cheerleader and coach.

    I also appreciate those who were willing to read, edit, and give me feedback in order to make this book more worthy of consideration. Thanks Nancy, Heidi, Peg, Brittany, Sue, Dianne, Teri, Leslie, Lisa, Deanne, Leslie, Laurie and Toni.

    Special thanks go to my daughter, Heidi, for creating a home on the web where the story behind My Journey from Darkness to Light can My Journey from Darkness to Light and First-Aid for Feelings can be purchased through PatriciaPotts.com. Other free downloads are also available on the website.

    Preface

    You’ve just got to listen to what Patricia has to say, she’s so experienced at depression!, my friend Joann declared.

    I never graduated from college. The truth is, I only attended one year and during that time I focused almost entirely on the social scene. However, if degrees were awarded for life experiences, I guess I may have earned some kind of experience degree in depression. I’ve lived through three major depressions and countless minor ones. I guess I must have been a slow learner because it wasn’t till the third one, when once again,I was down for the count, that I got it. Although I still have my ups and downs and I have to work to maintain a balance, I do take my medicine and use tools contained in this book help me stay in recovery from depression. My first dysfunctional depression was in 1981, the second in 1987 and the third in 1998.

    In between bouts, public speaking and teaching became my way of solidifying my lessons and giving value to the nightmare I had lived through. It also allowed me a chance to help others so that their tunnel of darkness didn’t have to be as long as mine.

    PART ONE

    First Depression: If I Just Try Hard Enough Everyone Will Like Me!

    The first depression I lived through was totally unexpected. I was a young mother with two daughters and another on the way. I went from being a fully functioning wife, mother, church worker, preschool teacher and daycare provider to being dysfunctional for three months. One major downfall, as I learned later in life, was approval addiction. My dream was to please everyone--so that everyone would be happy with me. The night I realized I would never have my dream was the night my life changed forever.

    Chapter One:

    What Made Me a Likely Candidate for Depression?

    Lucky Break?

    The fourth grade recess bell rang. My classmates, led by Mrs. Hansen, migrated to the playground (all but Sherrie and I that is). We both brought notes from home that morning because of our colds. What a lucky break, I thought, getting to stay in from recess with Sherrie Hansen, the most popular girl in class. Maybe if I impress her, I can get enough votes to be an officer!

    Normally, Sherrie paid no attention to me at all. Today, however, we were stuck together, and she seemed willing to make the best of it. We talked about boys, about Mrs. Hansen, and about who was wearing the right kind of clothes. (Fortunately I was in the O.K. group that day.) Then, in the middle of a sentence, I sensed a warning signal from my body telling me that it was time to high tail it to the restroom. I was too embarrassed, however, to just pick up and leave in the middle of my big chance at popularity and I quickly sent a message to my body telling it that I could not be interrupted just now. Three minutes later my body overrode my mandate. My face grew uncomfortably warm as I looked past my trembling knees to the puddle on the green tile floor below.

    I hoped that by some miracle Sherrie wouldn’t notice, but how could she help but notice? There was nowhere to go, no trap door in the floor to open up and swallow me, no invisible button I could push. The definite, undeniable odor in our fourth grade classroom gave me away. I knew I was at Sherrie’s mercy to keep my bladder blunder a secret.

    Sherrie, I pled, as I grabbed paper towels from the back of the room, pleeease don’t tell anybody. My mom can come get me and nobody needs to know. Please!

    Sherrie looked from the puddle to me as I scurried to and from the sink at the back of the room. She plopped herself on a school desk, smiled and vowed, Oh, I won’t tell anybody. Promise.

    The mess was cleaned up before the bell rang, and I heard the kids come bounding through the door at the front of the room while I ducked out the back door. I was just in the middle of thinking how glad I was that Sherrie had promised to keep quiet, when I heard her laughter echoing like sonic booms through the halls, …You should have seen it, Sherrie exclaimed a big yellow puddle and the smell was terrible…she’s not Patti Tew, she’s Patti Poo!

    Patti Poo!

    The nickname, Patti Poo stuck to me like Texas humidity for the next three years. If one of my classmates wanted to call another kid in school a dirty name, they would simply shout, Patti Poo to you! Unfortunately, the abuse was not limited to verbal assaults. After school in the winter, I had rock snowballs thrown at me until my legs stung as badly as the tears that ran down my cheeks.

    In an effort to win friends when I was in fourth grade, I used to take things from home (paper punchers, staplers, candy, anything I could sneak out) and put those in the pocket of my Swiss Derndall dress, a dress with a built-in white short sleeved blouse and a black velvet lace-up vest covering the bodice. The skirt was made of black and red plaid. During recess my classmates would line up by the coat rack for a chance to fish a prize out of my front vest. The saddest part of this plan, however, was that when I ran out of prizes, I also ran out of friends.

    The Kindest Girl in Class

    Fifth grade passed a bit more quietly as I tried to melt into the corner. When sixth grade rolled around, I sat in Mr. Cook’s class on the back row, bracing myself for the next Patti Poo comment. On that first day of school, Mr. Cook announced that he would have a kindness contest each week.

    He would pass out papers and let everyone write who they thought the kindest girl and boy was, and those lucky classmates would win and get their names on the chalkboard for a week. Could I ever win? I was sure I’d never be popular, but maybe, just maybe if I tried hard enough I could be the kindest. The idea bounced within me even as I determined right then and there to do whatever it took to get my name on the chalkboard. The white chalk remained poised in Mr. Cook’s hand. Could this be the beginning of the end of my friend woes?

    As I walked home from school that day, I passed the canal that ran along side the road. Looking down at the tiny tadpoles swimming upstream, I vowed that someday I was going to be voted kindest girl in Mr. Cook’s classroom.

    Mr. Cook’s contest was a turning point in my life. Instead of bringing stolen prizes from home, I brought two sets of jacks. I loved playing jacks and I was pretty good at it but after having spent many lonely hours playing jacks, I decided that the kindest person would probably share her

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