When We Shed Light On The Darkness, It’s Forced To Be Navy Blue

Writing about the darkness helped.

Reading your comments here and in secret Facebook messages and on the Twitter helped.

Finding this picture of my daughter helped.

It’s a happy hat. No really. Scott made it on the hospital’s pediatric floor when we had only been dating a month. Wait, does that make it also a hat stolen from sick and sad kids?

Taking a picture of my hat-stealing husband as he flexed and said: How can you be depressed when you’ve got a guy like me? helped.

My husband smells of rich mahogany.

Following it up with a surprise picture of him on the toilet while remarking: It’s really IS amazing that I manage to be sad with you around. (Then I told him that he could not give me permission to post the toilet picture because YOU’RE A PROFESSIONAL IN OUR COMMUNITY. GET IT TOGETHER. Now who sounds crazy?)

I’m still tired and sad, but I’m sleeping better. Except for the six out of seven nights a week that my children wake me up of course.

Anyway, thanks y’all. Not just for reaching out but for being sure to let me know that I’m not alone or wrong for struggling. For writing that you were glad I gave my struggles a voice. Many bloggers and writers and friends have before me — I feel like I’m merely paying it forward.

{group hug}

PS. I realized in the last two weeks, I’ve drawn TWO tombstones to go with my posts. I promise that death by squirrel and my children inquiring after my morality are NOT related to yesterday’s post. xoxo

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

14 thoughts to “When We Shed Light On The Darkness, It’s Forced To Be Navy Blue”

  1. I am glad that you wrote about it and that you feel even just a smidge better.

    because Bill Shakespeare said it best in MacBeth: “give sorrow words; the grief that doesn’t speak whispers o’er the fraught heart and bids it break.”

    I hope your heart is feeling a little more healed today, my friend.

  2. I love reading you, Alex. Please continue to let the light in… May you progress to the sapphire worn by a happily engaged princess, then on to the azure of a perfectly crisp fall morning sky, and on until you reach the light and happiness of the eggshell of a bluebird in spring 🙂

  3. Writing does help. Friends help. Realizing that online friends are real and live in their own versions of this helps. I’m glad little things are pulling some light onto the black.

  4. Is it wrong that I’m a little pouty-faced over the lack of toilet picture? My husband would MURDER me before he even let me take said picture!

    I’m glad that purging in the form of a blog helped you feel a little better. Giant hugs.

  5. Yeesh. Husbands. Sometimes they have NO sense of humor. :o) I think I can speak on behalf of bloggernation and say, we really don’t need to see your hubs on the pot though. Haha!

  6. I’m so sorry and I know the darkness well. It sneaks up without warning and writing about it is sometimes the only thing that makes it subside. Lots and lots of love. You’ll get on the other side of it. You will.

  7. Im glad you put it all out there! I have a post sitting in draft that I just can’t finish because I can’t physically yell through the computer, but you managed nicely.

  8. As always, Alex, your writing inspires me and validates my own experience so that I don’t feel so alone. I am thinking of you with lots and lots of love. Thank you for your honesty and your candor.

  9. I didn’t get to comment yesterday, but it is amazing how recognizing, admitting, and just telling that you are in a dark place is a big step towards feeling better. I’ve been through pretty rough spots. My most recent wasn’t nearly where you are, but it was hard and it was this past spring. There is always light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to figure out how to get the blindfold off, then your sunglasses, and finally how to open your eyes again!

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