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Once more... with feeling.
Nov. 14th, 2005 11:46 pmI was thinking the other day (ok, maybe not the best opening sentence, I hope I think more often than just days ago!). But no matter how overwhelmed I have been feeling this past semester, I'm still feeling. I feel happy and sad, worried and relief, bliss and despair. Three years ago, I was numb. Most of you didn't know me then (thank goodness, eh), but nobody really understood that mad crazy withdrawal I was going through. I just kept going deeper and deeper within myself, hiding behind a happy facade and overwork. I barely slept and wished for an end. An end that I knew I shouldn't want, so I just told myself to "hold on".
What brought me out of it? I think it started the day I sobbed my way into NYC on the LIRR with Christine. And then later that summer when I broke down on a walk around the neighborhood with my Mom when I finally admitted after all of those years that I suffered depression (and she admitted to me that she suffered a severe bout of it the first year after she was married). I suppose confession is good for the soul, for slowly I've become more normalized and better (whatever that is).
I'm sure you are wondering why I'm bothering to say this. You've all heard it before. Haha, maybe I shouldn't think on random days. Or at all.
But, no. My friends, indeed I am blessed by some of the greatest friends ever. I never had friends who understood me in high school. And now it seems I have an abundance. I've already told Meredith this, but it seems like for the first time in ever so long I have friends who are willing to step up to bat for me, are concerned. Love me even when I make mistakes, laugh with me (and at me) when I act idiotic. And while I want to yell at them to stop making a fuss about me because I am doing just fine, part of me is ridiculously happy that I have friends who care that much, who are willing to act my mother, if you will. So sappy, yes? But, I do love you all. And I'm glad to be alive and to feel.
What brought me out of it? I think it started the day I sobbed my way into NYC on the LIRR with Christine. And then later that summer when I broke down on a walk around the neighborhood with my Mom when I finally admitted after all of those years that I suffered depression (and she admitted to me that she suffered a severe bout of it the first year after she was married). I suppose confession is good for the soul, for slowly I've become more normalized and better (whatever that is).
I'm sure you are wondering why I'm bothering to say this. You've all heard it before. Haha, maybe I shouldn't think on random days. Or at all.
But, no. My friends, indeed I am blessed by some of the greatest friends ever. I never had friends who understood me in high school. And now it seems I have an abundance. I've already told Meredith this, but it seems like for the first time in ever so long I have friends who are willing to step up to bat for me, are concerned. Love me even when I make mistakes, laugh with me (and at me) when I act idiotic. And while I want to yell at them to stop making a fuss about me because I am doing just fine, part of me is ridiculously happy that I have friends who care that much, who are willing to act my mother, if you will. So sappy, yes? But, I do love you all. And I'm glad to be alive and to feel.
