This post from the Bloggess. It makes me cry a little bit.

I think it surprised Victor, how quickly I said “Okay. You know what? I’ll go.” He and Hailey held their breath as if I’d take it back. I hold my breath too. I wait for my body to say, “No, this was a trick. It’s not real. You don’t deserve this.” But it’s not saying that. Not yet at least. It’s saying, “I want to go. I want to live. I’ve been waiting so long.” It says “Let’s see Scotland and London and Paris. Let’s walk on distant islands and walk through mountains and see the things that I can’t quite imagine really exist because I never thought it would have been possible to see them. But maybe, a little voice inside my head whispers, maybe it’s possible.

Maybe.

Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s not forever but it’s for today and if it’s real today then there’s a chance that any day in the future could be like this one…full of promise and energy and an ease I feel like I’ve stolen…one that I feel jealous of even as I experience it.

via Is this how it’s supposed to be?

It makes my heart ache. Depression steals life from those afflicted with it, but also from the people that love them. It is unfair. It is a burden. It fills me with guilt. I isolate myself, because if I cannot see the colors myself, at a minimum, let me not dim the colors of those I love. They have their own crosses to bear.

Yet I want to see the colors. And I want to share in others’ colors. So badly.

Just most days, I can’t.

Depression is a bitch.

#stillonawaitinglisttoseeapsychiatrist