7:24 p.m. Well hello diary. It's been a while, hasn't it. Like long lost lovers, you were on the back of my mind, wondering if it is possible to return.

I have no idea the last time I wrote, nor do I remember what I even wrote about, or what was significant at that precise time.

Ah, time. I often rush you. Often call you my foe, but I really need to stop. To observe. To reflect.

Reflecting doesn't come easy to me. It means coming to terms with something. There's something I'm trying to come to terms with, and somedays I think it's too big to grasp.

Fortunately I have support of my family (though my mom's not much of help because she's such a worrier) and friends. I have the most amazing boyfriend.

But it's on my terms. It's moi that has to grab the bull by the horns and face depression full tilt.

Depression. Depression. Depression. The word slides of my tongue like a drop of water on sandpaper. I wish it was tangible, like garbage. I can collect it, bag it and trash it on the curb.

Not so easy, not at all. Somedays I wish to throw myself curbside because I don't understand what's going on.

I thought I was making progress, by resigning from a job I only had for 4 months (trust me, you know when a job's NOT for you). I'm a gut instinct kinda girl. And quite frankly, I couldn't possibly dismiss the anxiety and panic.

Yesterday was the first Sunday that I didn't wake up dreading Monday. Sure we all wish the weekend would last 7 days, but most suck it up and head to work. Look up the word miserable and you'd see my face there - especially last week.

All the signs were building to the revelation, but I didn't pay attention. Which brings me to my intial point of taking the time to slow down. To observe...

n@s