I haven't read a lot of blogs lately, but this morning, I had an urge to check in on a few of my favorites. So, I figured I'd indulge myself in a couple of them to take a break from my first day back at work. (Thanks, by the way, for all the get-well-wishes. My knee is doing much better, and I'm getting back into the swing of things.)
Anyway, I got to the blog of my fierce competitor in the final two of Blogger Idol (remember that?), Justin, who writes at Daddy Knows Less. I was reading his post from today, and all of the sudden, I couldn't help myself. My throat started to burn, my nose started to tingle, and I could feel my eyes welling up with tears. Even though I had no idea when I woke up this morning, his message that getting too wrapped up in what's going on at any particular moment in life shouldn't stop us from appreciating the "little wonders" in life was exactly what I needed to hear. And, even more so, I needed to hear that I am not alone.
The past six months have been hard on me. I'm not looking for pity (trust me, I've wallowed in self-pity PLENTY recently). I won't give you all the gory details, but the gist of the story is that we we found out six months ago that we had to move.
At the time I was finally feeling happy and content with my life after a turbulent couple of years with lots of big life changes. I was getting the hang of mothering. We were finishing the last project in what had been a grueling 18 months of renovations that turned our first house into my perfect home. (Seriously, one time, I was hunched over grouting tile for so many hours straight that I lost the feeling in three of my toes for the next four weeks). I was surrounded by good friendships that had been a long time in the making. I had my family nearby and loved that my son had such deep connections to them.
It was like a bomb blew my life apart when my husband told me he was almost certainly losing his job (stupid recession), and that he was going to have to take a job in another town (which, in Nevada, means hundreds of miles away). Since then, it's been a whirlwind of figuring out how I'm going to put my life back together. How I'm going to cope with leaving my beautiful home where my baby took his first steps, said his first words, and had his first Christmas. How to deal with leaving behind a place that I'd envisioned the next twenty years of beautiful memories with the friends and family I love so dearly.
But I hadn't been honest with myself until now. Yesterday, my mom offered to help me go grocery shopping. I whined. She pestered. And finally I said, "I don't feel like going. I'm depressed, and I just want to sit around and do nothing."
Wow. Depressed. It was the first time I'd actually said it out loud. I guess the crying, the general not- wanting-to-do-anything, and the "funk" I'd been feeling for a long time should have tipped me off sooner.
But, this morning, reading Justin's post, I realized that being depressed is the reason I stopped blogging. I wanted to cut myself off. I didn't want the help and the support of the friends that I've developed in this community. I didn't want to read their posts reminding me that my problems are actually relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. And even if they aren't, I don't have to face them alone. I didn't want to hear what they had to say because, darn it, you guys are always right.
I know this ordeal is far from over. My house has been on the market for six months with no good news yet (did I mention how stupid the recession is?). There's mountains of empty moving boxes in my garage. There's saying goodbye (or see you later) to friends and family. And, more urgently at this moment, there's figuring out how to make myself look like I haven't been crying if someone stops by my cubicle.
But I feel a little bit more ready to start to tackle it all. To be a better wife and to be the mother that my son deserves. To stop shutting people out.
So, if you want to watch the video that brought me to tears this morning, this is it. But better yet, just go read Justin's post because he said it all way better than I could. And Justin, thanks for reminding me that I'm not alone.