Sunday morning around 11am, I'm in my bedroom sobbing. Bawling my eyes out really. Crying is a Sunday morning tradition for me, given that week after week I drag my 5 kids to church by myself, and every single week my 4-year-old refuses to get dressed, throws a huge fit, runs away from me, rips off the clothes I've managed to get on him.....you get the picture. I start the morning off determined to keep a positive attitude, but it's not abnormal for me to break down in tears before pulling myself together and pulling the kids by their hair arms into church. Anyway, back to this Sunday at 11am. Actually, let's skip back to 10:45. I sit at the computer eating my breakfast, knowing I need to start getting everyone ready for 1:00 church, but deciding to check a few blogs first. I go to one I haven't read in a while, and bam - I'm reading the most gut-wrenching story. This woman has endured tragedy in the past, and recent events have added to that in ways that seem unfair and un-survivable. The tears are streaming down my cheeks, and when I've finished reading, I run to my room.
Here we are, back at 11:00. I'm bawling now. I think I needed a good cry. It's been building for a while now. But I'm not just crying for my fellow blogger. I'm crying because she has real, tangible reasons for being sad. I don't. I have a beautiful home; a hard-working, helpful, and loving husband; healthy, happy kids; people all around me who are becoming friends and reach out to me and make me feel welcome. I don't feel justified being depressed. But I have been for weeks now. I had a bit of the blues when we first moved here at the end of June, but it wasn't too bad. This depression doesn't seem to be all about moving. I'm sure it's a factor, as is the changing weather with very little sunshine to be seen, and the fact that we live far enough north that darkness comes far too early in the day. But depression can be pretty anonymous. And it's hard to fix something you can't quite put your finger on.
I think things are getting better. I've got a church calling that keeps me really busy, and that's probably a blessing. We got a new puppy who needs constant attention (and cleaning up after!), but I think that's good too, because it's hard to sit on the couch and wallow in depression when a little puppy's running around threatening to destroy everything and poop everywhere. But I don't think I'll ever stop feeling guilty for not being annoyingly happy, given all the reasons I have to feel that way. It makes me feel ungrateful. I swear I'm not.
Now, to reward you for getting this far.....pictures of the world's cutest puppy, Bandit, who is an 8-week-old German Shepherd:
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| On the ride to his new home |
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| Meeting our kitten, Fuzzy Wuzzy |
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| Exhausted from all the excitement |
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The kids are in love. We surprised them after school.
They had no idea. |
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Zach loves Bandit almost as much as Katie does.
And he's not the tiniest bit afraid of him. |
