As a child when I was allowed to stay up late, I could gaze up into the stars and see the moon shining down brightly. Casting shadows in the trees. All the romantic stories and dreams remembered.

But any storybook pictures that I seen as a child, it was in the sunshine. Sparkling sunlight in blue water. Rainbows and sunshine.

As many of my readers know, I married young. Left home and started my own life with my husband and children. I was 16 years old and determined to become an adult. But when you come from a dysfunctional home and into a dysfunctional marriage, every day is a challenge. Every moment is set in fear. Even during the happy moments, the fear that something is going to go wrong lingers in the background.

After I’d been married for a few years, I started to realize that once in a while I would speak up, defend myself, and try to make a point to my husband. This usually ended in a horrible screaming match, and I would end up jumping in the car and going for a drive. I started to notice that every time I was going on one of these drives to calm my thoughts, there was a full moon. Bright and shining into my eyes. I would often park near water and just watch it shine on the water. I would return back home to generally a quiet house because my husband had gone to bed and in the morning all would be well again.

As the year’s passed, I realized that the full moon affected me. I know everybody talks that there’s more accidents, there’s more police calls, there is more ambulance calls, there’s more disturbances during the full moon. I started to realize that it affected me deeply. My tolerance level was low. It’s like stupid suddenly became something I could not tolerate in anyone or anything, including me. I detested hatred, anger, and confrontation. My feelings were often just gut feelings. They didn’t necessarily have any logic behind them. It was like an anxiety and fear all rolled up into one. So that when I was challenged or made to feel bad, I would fight back. I would snap at people. I demanded people be kind and not so damn mean!!

If I was depressed, the depression was more serious. The night I decided to commit suicide in 1981, it was a beautiful full moon in June. It was a calm night, and I could even hear the river and the power dam in the distance. The new leaves rustling in the trees.

My parents had passed away in February March of lung cancer. I really felt I had no one. Nothing left to depend on. Although my parents were not exactly the ideal, warm, loving people, they did love me. They may criticize me, they may tell me I’m nuts, but if I really needed them, they would try their best. My husband was making me feel more and more as a failure. That I wasn’t good for anyone or anything. I got to the point where I convinced myself that everyone would be better off without me. That I wasn’t any good for my children. That I wasn’t a good wife. I wasn’t a good anything. I had sat looking at the moon, drinking a half a bottle of rum, and deciding that I was going to go walk to the river and just keep swimming and swimming and swimming until I could swim no more.

Then my two year old cried. I was drunk and needed him to go back to sleep so I staggered into the house and got him a glass of milk out of the fridge and got him back to bed. But my husband woke up and I didn’t make it back outside. I was drunk which scared him really bad. He was the alcoholic. I never drank. I had been crying all night. My eyes were swollen shut. He made me lay down and he called my brother. Poor guy. He drove two hours to sit with me.

This was almost 50 years ago. I did seek doctors help. I was given a antidepressant, but it made me almost comatose. I couldn’t function and so I quit taking it.

I convinced myself that I just had to be able to take care of the kids and my husband better. How I felt wasn’t important. It was how they felt.

I started to learn to just watch for when the full moon was coming and really really pushed myself to stay quiet. Don’t start any controversial conversations. Just sit quiet. Basically a yes sir or no sir human.

Now, today, after years and years of therapy, some very kind medication, and wonderful support people around me, I can admit that the full moon puts me on edge. Maybe it’s just psychological, but it definitely feels physical. I feel the tightening in my stomach, and the rigidity in my muscles. It’s like I’m waiting for something to go wrong. I have to admit that the moon is beautiful. It’s shine against the water, and in the sparkles in the night.

Tonight it is again full moon. I celebrated this day by staying indoors. Not conversing any more than I absolutely had to do with the outside world. And just trying to take a breath. For tomorrow’s a new 28 days.

May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I live with ease.