It’s been a long, long time since I’ve written.  I drug myself through an Intensive Outpatient Program, changed up my meds, and took three weeks off work.  At absolutely no point in time did those three weeks off feel like three weeks off.  That IOP was no joke but I was also no willing participant.  For the first week, I don’t think I made eye contact with one person.  For the girl who is usually uber social and smiley, this is highly unusual.  In fact, for the first week, not one person sat next to me.  I always had a buffer on either side:  it made me chuckle and it made me sad all at once.  At the beginning of the second week, I told myself to get my ass in gear as I knew I couldn’t be off work indefinitely.  Since I’m kind of stubborn (read:  horrendously bull-headed), it took til the end of the second week before I really opened myself up to the process.  By the end of the third week, I not remotely back to baseline, but I was at least not acutely suicidal nor crying constantly, so back to work I went.

Since starting this blog, I feel like I’ve talked A LOT about my depression and struggles.  I really want y’all to know that I’m honestly not always (even mostly) an Eeyore in my day-to-day endeavors.  In fact, during that dark night of the soul, I asked Facebook friends for three adjectives to describe me because I was having such a hard time remembering who I was.  Here they are:  caring, entertaining, honest, smart, independent, strong, passionate, intelligent, honest, charismatic, introspective, unfiltered, humorous, funny, beautiful, feisty, witty, entertaining, adorable, extraordinary, heartbroken, brave, compassionate, dedicated, clever, loving, brilliant, snarky, cool, honest.  Okay, funny might have been mentioned several times.  I don’t tell you this to show you that I’m an amazing person; I share this information because I am SO MUCH MORE THAN MY DEPRESSION.  Sometimes I forget that.

So anyway, I’m not remotely back to normal.  I still cry a lot but at least I’m not suicidal and I can focus when I’m at work.  It’s not the best of times, but it’s certainly not the worst of times.

Back to that title:  it’s Saturday night; Chrissy is out at a movie; Carolyn is cleaning her room (and avoiding me); I’m drinking a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and watching a Netflix documentary about a serial killer.  While I realize that may not be the *best* choice for a depressed person, I can’t seem to help myself.  With windows open on a rainy night, kitty-cat on the lap, and cool breeze drifting through the room, it somehow feels normal.

            Life is tough right now.  Not awful, but tough.  Being a single parent, working, and going back to school for my Master’s is no small task.  To be brutally honest, had I known then what I know now, I don’t think I’d have started back to school.  Still, I’m in it and at this point the only thing to do is put my head down and get through it.  I know I’ll be proud and thrilled at the end, but the “in the meantime” is killing me.

I follow Glennon Doyle Merton on Facebook and Instagram and she often refers to life as “brutiful”; I don’t think anyone could say it better.  It’s hard.  It’s damn hard.  I get lonely.  I get scared.  I cry.  But I have two amazing daughters.  And a job that I love.  And great coworkers.  And a lovely albeit insane family.  Life IS brutiful.  Even on a lonely Saturday night with nothing but a glass of wine and a serial killer to keep me company.

Yep.  I think I’ll keep on keepin on.