It was the one on depression.
Specifically, on writers battling depression.
I am a writer and I am depressed.
There. I said it.
I've been dancing around the truth for a lot of months now, but this weekend, when I broke plans, twice, just so I could stay home hibernating, when I didn't do laundry, or put dishes away, or call my parents, when I had to coax myself into the shower, when I ordered Chinese food over the internet rather than chance interacting with someone, when I stepped on the scale and weighed in 10 pounds heavier than the start of the year...I knew.
Deep in my bones, I knew.
It's time for honesty.
And for help.
For anyone following my posts this year, you'll know that my Word of the Year, is MMM and stands for move, make, meditate.
It is blasted difficult (understatement) to do any of that with a two-ton rock squatting uninvited on one's back.
I've cycled through periods of depression for much of my life. It bugs the crap out of me that it's circled back for another visit. But it IS here and the longer I go with my head in the sand trying to ignore it, the larger it will grow, taking over more real estate in my life.
As painful as moving is right now, it's time to address the rock.
A dear friend introduced me to the phrase, the universe rewards action. Okay. I'm acting, Universe. And I'm reaching out for help. And, eventually, I'll shift that dang rock.
If past history is anything to go by, it will take a while. The good news is I'm starting. I'm starting.
And just so this post isn't a complete downer, here's a Rock who could take up residence next door tomorrow and go a long way to alleviating what ails me.