Depression is a bitch

Panic attacks, anxiety, stress, depression. I'm so over it. I am tired of fighting these emotions every day. I don't want to lose myself in them. I won't let myself, because I've watched others get lost in it and felt how much it hurts on the outside, looking in. But it's a tough, uphill battle.

I am thankful to other bloggers out there who are open and honest about these same struggles. I appreciate the posts on the days when they just need to retreat into themselves, because it reminds me I'm not alone. I appreciate when I see them fight to break out and feel alive and am inspired to find my own visual reminders (*ahem* Jane. Lets set up that crime scene like shot. And Craig, I'm pretty sure I need a series of red dress shots too). I appreciate when they share the reminders that some days we should just be thankful to FEEL.

I am so grateful to my friends who take the time to sit with me and tell me that, in their eyes, I AM superwoman. And to the friends who talk me through the serious stuff, because they've been there too. And to my husband, who is genuinely floored that I can't see the amazing things he sees in me. I need to hear these things. I've learned that sometimes I just need to get offline, get out of the house, put myself out there in the real world and embrace the hugs.

Last night, I stumbled upon the best stress reliever. It was better than the weekly massages the doctor has prescribed to me. When we were done, we felt so zen, so empowered, so alive. For just a little while all the aches and the stress and the ick was lost, replaced by a peace and happiness that can not be belittled.

The power of a little physical redecorating is amazing. It's not for everyone, but for us it was a much needed break from the daily crap we are each dealing with. And it's a permanent reminder for us both that we need to shine, that we are loved, and that we are awesome.

Sometimes, we all need to be reminded of those things.