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Almost as far back as I can remember my mom has had depression. I can remember that when I was six or seven things started going downhill with our family. My mom was going to the doctors a lot. It started off once a week and soon it became two or three times a week. The doctor visits never seemed to help my mother though. A couple years later my brother and I were moving back and forth from our house to our grandparents house,while my mother was in and out of the hospital. It was hell! I was young and didn't understand what was going on. I just wanted to be home. I wanted things to be normal again. Another year or so went by and my mother tried to commit suicide. Thankfully she did not succeed. She had made a phone call to one of her friends second guessing herself. The friend rushed her to the hospital and saved my mother's life. Throughout my childhood life with my mom was a rollar coaster. She would was getting better all the time just to fall back into her world of sadness. We always did things as a family. We went camping several times a year, we took day trips on the four wheelers, snow sled rides, family get togethers, and so on. We always had a good time, but something was still missing.