Interestingly enough, my WordPress stats tell me that people have searched for “seasonal depression” in Google and come upon this very site. I’m the one that shares my story, and yet I’m startled. I’ve actually been writing about being depressed? WTF, self? That’s the horrible dark stuff that no one wants to read! And so on, goes my inner voice (or saboteur, as a lovely life coach once called it).
The truth is, I’m glad that people are searching for certain phrases and finding Sweet and Savoring. I’m glad that I’m putting myself out there and being authentic. It feels a bit funny, especially when people outside my close circle of friends spontaneously tell me how much they like the blog, because I immediately think oh man, they know! they know the truth about me. And isn’t that better than keeping the less sunny parts hidden? Ever since I was a teenager, my depression and anxiety has been something that feels like a red mark on my forehead. It FEELS as though everyone can see right through me, but of course they can’t, and most people may be aware that I’ve struggled with depression, but they haven’t heard it firsthand. This is the first time I’m sharing my story publicly.
Thank you, readers- family, friends, fellow bloggers- for holding me up, for coming back and being interested in what I have to say. I would also like to thank every other blogger who writes about their tough stuff: the depression, anxiety, illness, whatever it is that doesn’t look so pretty but feels damn good to get off your chest. Even though it doesn’t feel like this in my low moments, I know there is always at least one person out there who benefits from reading these types of posts. If one person identifies and feels that sense of validation, then I know that this is worth it.
As much as Andy and I tease each other, he has been my rock. I think of two particular instance this past week when he supported me: the first was on Wednesday, when I experienced a fleeting episode of the sadness that encompassed me last winter. I sat on the bed, feeling lost and helpless as the tears streamed down my face, trying all the while to think of ways to “get out of it”, rather than letting myself just be. Andy sat there and kissed my tears and let me just be.
The second time was two nights ago, curled up on the bed and crying again, my cheek swollen and the inside of my mouth throbbing. That was the worst tooth pain I’ve ever had, and thankfully, Andy was once again right next to me, trying everything he could think of to make it better. That, my friends, is support. When I feel as though I’m at my worst, both physically and emotionally, he still loves me and wants to be right there next to me.
I suppose that’s why I let him do things like stand next to the dentist and take photographs as my gums are injected with novocaine and my tooth is pulled out, roots and all. He’s a weird guy. (I’ll spare you the during photos, but if you’re curious, take a look at his set on Flickr.)
I’ve blabbered long enough for now. Stay tuned for this weekend’s installment of the Eating in Central America series!
P.S. Since we’re on the subject of teeth, here’s some of the funniest tooth fairy letters of all time 🙂
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