I’ve been trying really hard to hide my sadness and returning depression from those in my life. My grandmother died almost two months ago, and even though we weren’t extremely close, my heart was broken. And then old thoughts started to creep in through the cracks. Thoughts I was sure I’d worked out in therapy…and by starting SpeakYourStory…and on a solo trip to Budapest…and in my relationships.
But this sadness and these thoughts took hold. I determined it was all just situational, so I adopted the “keep busy” treatment. I threw myself into the new responsibilities I’d been given at work, and a fancy new skincare regimen, and getting my house ready to put on the market. I got really good at non-feeling stuff.
I just didn’t realize how much less invested I’d become in the feelings-required places of life. Like my marriage. Like this website, my heart on an HTML. Like my writing. It was all on hold.
And so, for the first time in more than a year, we did not post a new story on Wednesday. I felt ashamed, like I was failing. And I hoped so strongly that no one noticed.
Things have gotten bad when you’re hoping that the community you care most about in the world doesn’t notice when you go missing.
But that’s where I find myself. Sliding slowly into a depression, with the switch to my creativity, wholeness and connection flipped decidedly to “off.”
But I’m here with this story, this confession because a tiny miracle happened tonight. A small voice whispered to me that my hiding will not heal me. I started to cry, and then I put my fingers to the keyboard and here I am. I’m deciding that my shame over not putting a story up today does not need the shadows. It needs a community. A community of women who will say “me too” – I failed today too. I’m sad as well. I’m hiding.
Me too, friends.