I was cleaning out my office a few months ago and I put one of the stuffed sheep that Ana had given me into the "To Be Donated" pile. (I'm TRYING to declutter and I kept the SMALLER sheep she gave me.) Later that evening, this is what I saw in my office:
Welcome back, buddy. There is always room for something that was given to me by one of my kids. You can sit on the printer.
Okay, then, here's the thing: I'm fighting off a pretty severe depressive cycle, despite the fact that I have A) the funniest, sparkliest kids ever, B) good friends --really good friends and C) a puppy. Sometimes, even the fact that I am the most blessed person on this planet cannot keep the black curtain from descending -- because it is hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head, as Eleanor Roosevelt once said.
Sometimes those closest to me (Coop) wonder why I tell the whole world about such struggles. Well. I talk about them to demystify them. To make sure I'm not living in denial, which is sort of a mode of operation embraced by my family of origin. And also because I want my children to know that struggling to keep yourself balanced and mentally healthy is not a character flaw. I am not a bad person because I battle depression. In fact, taking responsibility for my own mental health makes me a responsible parent and may just be the best thing I model for my kids.
Anyway, that's why I've been so scarce around these parts. Thanks to everyone who wrote asking me if I was okay. I AM okay and getting better all the time.
I'm planning (and actually writing!) a big post about dinner parties and Thanksgiving and going to get out Christmas Tree but I wanted to swing by and say howdy in the meantime. (Also to let you know that the Blink-O-Meter is at 90%, currently.)