A large part of the reason I am handling this all so well is because of my long history with depression. That sounds kind of backwards when you think about it – you would assume that, with my history of depression, this kind of tragedy would cause me to fall out of control. And yes, that is a possibility (I MUST remember to take my meds). However that’s not the way it seems to be turning out.

You see, I have over 8 years of experience in dealing with really rough, negative emotions. I spent a year, before being put on medication, living in the worst emotional hell imaginable. It did not have a cause, no “reason” to feel that way – and that actually made it worse. I knew I had no reason to feel depressed: I lived with my parents, I got good grades, I had a happy family, I had nice “things.” Yet I felt like I was at the bottom of a well and couldn’t claw myself out. I spent my days in bed, weeping – getting out of bed was too much effort. I felt like life would never be okay, there would never be anything worthwhile. I can hardly put it into words how I felt – but it was hell.

People have commented to me on many occasions that I seem so aware of my emotions and feelings. And I am – I have practice. Lots and lots of practice. Living with depression is something that you manage. The medication helps prevent that deep well – but I still have to be very aware of my thought processes and emotions. I had to learn what was normal emotions and what was irrational depression emotions. I had to learn how to redirect my thinking processes. I had to learn to acknowledge my thoughts and emotions and deal with them in a constructive way.

All of this has led me to now. I have all these tools to deal with the grief. I can certainly understand why people who are unprepared need to see a counselor – it would be easy to get lost in it all and never find yourself. It would be easy to give up and wonder why life is even worth living. But I know you just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep plodding through it. I know that even when you feel like you will never feel okay again, someday the darkness won’t be so heavy. Look at what I have, what I had. I have lived. I have experienced hope, and love. I have experienced pregnancy and labor. I have a wonderful husband, I have fantastic friends, I have four very quirky pets that make me laugh – all things I never would have experienced and enjoyed if I had not gotten through the depression. I will get past this, too, and will find more experiences that I never would have imagined. I have to believe that.

Den and I, too – our relationship is strong because of everything we have endured. We actually met before I was put on medication – he was a key person in helping me get through that period, get on medication, and get my life sorted out. And over the past 6 years of our relationship he has had plenty of occassions to deal with me as a giant emotional mess. He knows how to recognize a bad mood, a bad day… and he knows how to pick me up and support me while I find my feet again. We got through 3 years apart, while I finished my degree (8 months apart during the semesters, 4 months together during the summers), which built the foundation for our relationship: communication. You don’t do long distance without learning really good communication skills.

Today Den and I slow danced in the living room to music in our heads, my head on his shoulder, his arms protectively around me. He held me as I cried. He rested his head against mine, feeling his own sorrow. We know how to get through this, together.