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.
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.
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.
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