A positive outlook does not run in my family.
Depression, on the other hand, does. The bad, serious kind. The kind that comes with substance abuse and suicide and therapy and medication.
The genes and chemistry that cause that sort of thing? The ones several members of my family have? Those are the same genes I’ve got. And while I don’t battle the kind of depression many people I love do, sometimes I get a glimpse into that struggle.
And when that happens, I can’t always keep it under control. It’s kind of like holding a beach ball underwater. Once it starts slipping out of your grip, you know it’s just a matter of time before that piece of slick plastic explodes through the water and lands just out of reach on the side of the pool.
That’s what happened last week.
I’m better now. It took a few days, sure. And about an entire box of Kleenex, my husband’s patience and several Advil. (See: therapy and medication.) But I’m back.
I won’t say “back to normal,” because, really? Yeah.
And now that I’m back, listening to the Flight of the Conchords sing/talk French nonsense and looking forward to an extra-large bowl of Golden Grahams and my NCIS fix, I want to say thank you.
When you read my post last week, it may not have made sense. I know it was a little vague. And coupled with a random music question. All of that may not seem risky to you, or vulnerable. But for me? It was a big risk.
I wasn’t sure what you all would say. Or if anyone would say anything at all. Nothing like baring your soul, even if vaguely, just to hear crickets.
[By the way, I saw someone make a whistling noise last week that sounded like crickets. I wish I could do that. I can’t remember who did it. Was it you? Please tell me. And then teach me how to do it.]
Anyway, thank you all for your encouraging comments and e-mails and chocolate (that one was Smitty) and dinner and hugs. Thank you.
This one’s for you:
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