Finding me

After a tad over of a year of therapy for clinical depression, I am a lot closer to who and what I am. I was so angry after my Mother passed, even my husband would call me "Bad Deborah". The meds help too, but the talking with Therese has opened up several "dark" areas. Mostly it was about being alone. Most of my survival skills come from childhood. What memories I have being alone was a biggy. I was a latch-key kids. Come home for lunch, make it myself, call my mother at work, then go back to school. Now, mind you this was grade school. I remember Mother telling me she would get me up, dressed, fed, and then she would lay me back down on the couch with the alarm clock to go off when I was suppose to go to school. A lot of my survival skills came from a violent father. I had a rich "fantasy" life then as I keep the really scary and bad stuff behind really thick mental walls. Not ready to look at those yet. I do have a serious problem with trust. That is why I do shy away from people.
I enjoy doing my gardens, beadwork and crochet. Those really help me to "stay on track"-mentally. I am not good with crowds, or social functions ether. I just never know how to act or do that small talk stuff. And with talking I now can see that I can work on my beadwork or crochet without feeling like I should be doing houework or chores first. It is difficult to realize I am an artist/craftsperson.
As far as letting people help me, that is what we are working on now . . .