Dancing with the Demon

Answers,finally.
It's been a very long, very hard road. Ask my baby girl.
She and I are now able to put a name to the demon that keeps on dancing with her. I can't tell you how hard she's fought him in the past while I've stood there, hands tied behind my back, unable to help her fight.

In the last three months, I've watched her desperately try to keep her head above the suffocating weight of sorrow and depression. I had enough. I couldn't take her pain anymore.
And now, after eight years of battling an unknown monster, we know who he is.His name is Dysthymic Disorder, and he's got Depression and A.D.D backing him up.
She deserves a fighting chance, my daughter, and she's ready for battle.

Why, then, do I find myself being sucked back in the past? Right to the times she would say to me, "Mom, I have this empty spot inside of me I can't fill. What is it?"
Shit, here I sit @ Starbucks and my eyes are leaking. I'm hurting for her, the inability to 'fix' her. I couldn't answer her , I didn't understand it. Damn it, I couldn't help her. 

I still don't know that empty spot she battles, I don't have it, but I'll do everything in my power to fill it up and keep the demon at bay.
Every damn day she reaches deep down and steps up to a plate that at times must seem like quicksand.

This blog is dedicated to her. The strength she doesn't yet realize she has. The will and want to get up every day, if not for her, for her daughter. The beauty in life she struggles to find, the smallest of pleasures she has to work ten times harder to have.
So a loud and proud shout out to my 'baby' for battling the demon that tries to make her dance to his tune.
We got your number now, you bastard.