belated gratitude.

“…having gone through crazy postpartum depression and anxiety I can’t tell you how nice it is to know that there are people like you- good people who can be honest about how mental illness is real and isn’t our fault. Sometimes, even though you know you’re just fighting your own brain, it hurts like hell and you don’t know if you can go on the way you have been.”

I went back through the other night and responded to emails people had sent me over the last few months, thanking me for something I had written, for being honest about the ugly nuggets in certain areas of my life. Some were over four months old. But I needed to thank you for them and apologize for having my head so far up my butt I could have performed some major personal surgery.

“I just thought it would be ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY, FREAKIN IMPORTANT to tell you…. That I am probably one of a gazillion people whose life you’ve made a smidgen better because you’re in it.  You are one of very few people that have the ability to teach others to just be themselves. And that is a very rare trait to have. The several of us that are better because of you… we thank you.”

While I did read them when I received them, I didn’t necessarily comprehend them.

“I’ve been an avid reader for quite some time but don’t comment very often. I read your post “being your mom with depression” and cried with relief that there was someone else out there who goes through what I do.”

Anyone who’s dealt with depression or any kind of crazy knows that it feels as though it will never end, and people telling you “this too shall pass” or “get over it” kind of make you want to shove things up their bums as well.

“Maybe it’s not much, maybe it’s not enough…but your words got me brave enough to say it, at least here. Thank you Casey for being you and for making me laugh and cry and smile and for teaching me things I didn’t know about turkeys and faith and most of all for sharing “the faking” on a day I was thinking of how well I’m “faking” my life. Thank you for letting me know that maybe I’m not totally alone.”

I guess what I wanted to say is that when you get that feeling to write somebody something heartfelt or out of genuine concern, just do it. If they don’t respond chances are it’s not because they are a jerk. It’s probably because they’re suffocating. And when they can breathe again? I hope they’ll give you the thanks you deserve. I for one feel I can never repay those who have taken time out of their lives to thank me for doing what comes so naturally to me.

“I’ve been reading your blog for a few months now, and I love your candid, unapologetic posts. The way you’ve written about your mental health has really had an impact on me. I’m bipolar, and only a few people in my life know…Thank you for writing the way you do about this topic. It really helps to know that I’m not alone in this, and I wanted you to know that you aren’t either. Reading your blog helps. Thank you.”

I hope one day I can give you all the thanks you deserve. I’d have you all over to my house for milk and cookies if I could.

“Thank you for putting yourself out there and sharing your heart with us. I am certain that those of us who have journied through the dark days of infertility/depression and those currently walking the road, are encouraged to know someone else shares their unspoken feelings/thoughts/emotions.”

If you met me for the first time over the last 6 months? That wasn’t me. Can we get a do over please? For those of you who stuck it out with me? Thank you. Thank you a million times over. You are the stainless steel in my kitchen of life.

xoxo

80 thoughts on “belated gratitude.

      1. @Casey, That’s understandable. We’re both insanely hot, incredibly intelligent, and our kids are amazing.

        I’ll be back in the summer. Don’t you dare blow me off this time. 😉

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  1. You are amazing. I can’t relate on the whole postpartum thing, but depression, oh my! I read your blog because you are real and cool and funny…because you are relatable on the depression front is a huge bonus.

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  2. I love you for being you and for being so honest. I find it so hard most of the time to be honest about how I’m feeling. You truly are an inspiration and I hope that we meet someday.

    I’m glad that you are feeling better. *hugs*

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      1. @Casey, You’re right, it is pretty simple. I just have a hard time looking someone in the eye and putting the feelings into words. It’s easier to blog about it than it is to actually say it out loud, for some reason.

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  3. I think you are too hard on yourself! You still managed to make me laugh quite often in the past 6 months! Keep writing and sharing…I enjoy reading (I rarely comment because I usually read blogs at work while I wait for something to spit out of the computer…and writing comments means I have to think!).
    Hope 2010 is an amazing year for you and your family!

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  4. Well, I met you in July and I thought you were awesome. So if that wasn’t totally you, then hot damn! I can’t wait to hang out with the “real” you!

    As someone who suffers from depression, I get it. I so get it!

    xoxo

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  5. You are a beautiful, talented writer…with a heart of gold. I’m glad that you’ve surfaced enough to be able to really understand that what you do here matters, to a lot of people.

    ((hugs))

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  6. Man, I’ve missed a lot since I’ve been working so hard instead of reading blogs. I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been going through such rough times. but SO happy to read that you’re getting better!!! XOXOXOXOXO

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  7. You really are amazing to share your personal battles with depression and infertility. I have several people close to me who deal with depression and infertility, but they don’t lay it on the line like you do, it is refreshing. It helps me to see where they are coming from…put myself in their shoes.

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  8. Oh, sweet Casey. Thank you for putting it out there. You’ve helped me and my dear friend Meredith so much. I can’t wait to meet you and give you a big, long hug. (But if it gets so long it’s uncomfortable and sorta creepy, tell me, k? K. I don’t wanna be THAT person.)

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  9. I was a shitty commenter during that time, not because I wasn’t reading (I totally was) but rather because I didn’t know what to say.

    However, I admire your candor, both then and now.

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  10. You are a good egg. I don’t really like eggs, tho, so how about you are a good cupcake. And I think so many of us would jump at the chance for a do-over of the last six months to a year… I know I would.

    We’re in it for the long haul, baby

    Steph

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  11. I think you’re phenomenal. I’m not yet married and not yet a mom, but I seriously believe what you write will help me be better at both when I get there.

    (And I haven’t gotten to meet you for the first time, but I want to!)

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  12. I imagine there’s got to be someplace in Indy that has good hot chocolate and cookies. Next time I’m in Indy, I’ll let you know. ‘Cause I think you’re pretty cool, too. I’d buy you a beer anytime – but you seem to lean toward milk and cookies.

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    1. @lceel, I know a swell joint for milk and cupcakes. And ooh! I know an even more swell place for cookies! MY HOUSE! (BYOB though, fresh out of that stuff unless you’re hip to the root variety.)

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  13. I see you’re speaking at Blissdom. I’m not registered for the conference and most likely won’t because I’m frugal as a motha*. BUT, I think I’m going to try to come to Nashville that weekend. We must meet. 🙂 (I did not intend for that to sound creepy, if it does.)

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  14. I don’t know what to say, so I will just give you a big ol’ kiss instead

    *MWAH*

    If I don’t raid Indy beforehand I will see you in a month in Nash-Vegas where we will be dancing on bars and copious amounts of Diet Coke will be consumed and possibly twinkies.

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  15. You are so lovely, both inside and out. I just had to say.

    This is my first ever comment — I usually just pop in to read — but can I come for milk and cookies anyway? 🙂

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    1. @Nenette, Of course! Cookie invites are always open. Unless you say something about a diet, then I’ll shove Creme Brulee down your throat and make you cry uncle.

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