Would it be totally uncool for me to swoon right now...?

Holy fuckity-fuck-fucking-Jesus-Christ-in-a-teacup Batman!

I just got home and checked my email and I found THIS... 

I stole her avatar too...

Just in case you can't see it properly, here's a close-up...

She loves me. She really loves me.

Yes that is an email from Ms Jenny The Bloggess Lawson herself replying to me regarding my putting her quote on my wall. I feel like I just got a letter from the Queen!

*Sigh*

P.S. Wentworth Miller, you're next!

I am the Wizard of Oz of Housewives

Okay. So I read Jenny Lawson's (The Bloggess) book Let's Pretend This Never Happened.

Why yes, that is a dead mouse.

It's fantastic. Like utterly amazing.

Now I read a lot. I mean, A LOT a lot. And I'm warning you in advance, this post is going to border on being stalker-ish. The Bloggess' book moved me more than any I've read in a really long time. I cringed in horror, laughed until a little bit of pee came out and sobbed as if my heart was broken. And scarily of all I could relate. To everything. single. word.

It's absolutely terrifying for me to read a book like this because I feel as though she burrowed deep down inside of me and retched up all the stuff I'm ashamed of and keep hidden, and exposed it for everyone to judge. It's heart-wrenching, and embarrassing, and absolutely wonderful. Just to know there is someone else out there that is just as fucked up as I am is empowering.

I have so much respect and admiration for this woman, the strength it would take to be able to write with such honesty and rawness, to lay it all out there for the world to see. It's humbling.

One thing in particular spoke to me and perfectly captured the inner conflict that wars within me on a daily basis. The 23rd chapter is titled;

"I am the Wizard of Oz of Housewives (In that I am both "Great and Terrible" and because sometimes I hide behind the Curtains)"

This quote not only sums up the entire book for me, but also encompasses my whole life. I am wonderful and horrible, sometimes simultaneously, on a daily basis. And at times I am so overwhelmed by either the sheer wonder, or utter hopelessness of it all I find myself curled up in the foetal position in a corner. 

That page (p 191), drew me back to re-read, over and over. And each time I found something new. A brutally honest thought. Deeper insight. Some new complexity that made me go, "Oh! Yes. There you are."

I thumbed through the pages to get to that quote so many times I ruined the book.

So I stole it.

I made it bigger.

And I put it on my wall.

And it is awesome.

Adventures in depression. And some other shit...

So I've been away for ages and it's been gut wrenching and sad and blah blah blah. I'm so not going there to relive it. Not all in one go anyway.

Suffice to say I went to the bottom of my own personal hell hole and came out fighting.

Do I feel better? Eh....

Will I write about it? Maybe...

Is it over? I don't know.

It was these two posts from two of my favorite bloggers - Jenny The Bloggess and Allie from Hyperbole and a Half - that made me realize that I REALLY AM NOT ALONE. In that good, fuzzy, deep down inside, I'm-not-the-freak-I-think-I-am way.

I mean, everyone who has had even one depressed day in their life has heard the form response "you're not the only one", from well meaning friends and family. But that has always made me feel worse. It always makes me feel guilty for feeling depressed. Like I can't take ownership of the shitty way I'm feeling because every man and his dog feels bad sometime. Like the people who are trying to help are saying, "Snap out of it, you'll be right, everyone feels like shit occasionally, stop feeling sorry for yourself." and the ever faithful, "Smile, you'll feel better." I know I'm not the only one. I know everyone feels shitty sometimes. That doesn't make my depression any less valid, does it?

And I really, seriously know you are trying to make me feel better, and I really, seriously appreciate you trying but...

Please, please. Stop helping.

You really want to help? Get me a Bourbon/Valium smoothie and let me cry. I don't know why I'm crying, I can't answer that so please don't ask, it only makes me cry more. Stop staring at me helplessly and put on Van Wilder: Party Liaison and laugh with me instead. Then maybe we'll both feel better.

Now I guess this isn't the best "I'm back!" post you've ever read. And I know this post is narcissistic. And I know It's all, "poor me I'm depressed". I guess I went there after all. But you want to know something?

I'm okay with that.

I am back.

I've missed writing. I need it.

Over the next weeks and months I'll try to find me again.

I promise.