The people who love me

I don’t know how long I would have allowed myself to wallow in deep depression if I didn’t have people who love me.

Dustin...sigh…you know he is amazing, right? I think there were moments when he was scared by my behavior. I woke him up at 4 am on many mornings and just cried on his shoulder. He was what every woman wants. Dustin didn’t try to fix my problems. He didn’t tell me not to worry. He didn’t get angry (often). He held me and was my strength until I was able to be strong again. Dustin woke up and put Vivian on the school bus. He fed Logan breakfast. He paid the bills. When I was unable to be a good mom, he stepped up and was the best dad.

My kids were forgiving. I don’t know if they would have weathered my storm as well if they were older, but I am thankful that they are innocent and have short memories. They did so many things to cheer me up. They picked me flowers, made silly faces, and told knock-knock jokes until I thought I would go even more crazy.  I could find myself switch from tears of misery to tears of joy and unworthiness in the matter of moments thanks to those two.

Leigh is my neighbor. Neighbor is an understatement of what she is to me. Most weekdays I see her more than Dustin. We talk about everything and nothing. I cannot stress enough the importance of having someone who can talk about the deepest maters of the heart at one moment and distract you with summaries of bad celebrity gossip the next. Leigh can tell my mood with a five word text message and be the friend I need at that moment with total selflessness. I learned how to cope with depression thanks to her. I’ve learned a lot about the importance of keeping distracted and busy so the blues don’t hold me down. Yes I’ve invaded her home with a sharp knife and a pot, so I could cook and keep myself busy.

My parents, though far away, were great help. I avoided my mom’s phone calls for a while because I didn’t want to cry on the phone with her. Thankfully she kept calling. Kept checking on me. Though being asked twice a day how I was doing was annoying at times, I needed it. My dad was (has always been) a calming influence. Though he doesn’t know it (you do now), my dad is the person who reminds me of my greater family history. Conversations with my dad bring back conversations from ten years back that help me see that depression is nothing new for me. Now is just a really bad spot.

My sister…well we’re in this head-fuck together. When I was at my worse she was strong for me, and when she is having a bad day I can be strong for her. I never want anyone to have to experience depression, but I am thankful for her understanding and solidarity.

I need another beer.