Let's blog the feels.
The world woke up this morning to the news that Anthony Bourdain had passed, most likely from suicide. A lot of us that are suffering from depression see this and are like, "Well, fuck. If Anthony Bourdain, a host of great food shows, can't make it, then fuck.
Let's also make it clear that I've been in my depression for approximately 3 months now -- unable to feel anything. Even when hubs and I have our discussions, I am unable to feel anything at all. I can't even cry.
Couldn't. Couldn't even cry.
Until this morning.
Woke up to the news stories about Anthony and then I hopped on Twitter. I don't know what I expected. PocketTribe is always so supportive, but I wasn't expecting all of the stay messages.
My depressed brain has been passively eyeing suicide ("if it happens, no big deal") and to read all of those messages, all of those small pieces of care and love and support, it felt like every one conked me on the head.
I was not expecting it.
So, now, I'm full of these messages (and gifs of cute critters because of The Bloggess) and I find myself fighting to get out of the empty I've been in.
That took me away from the point I was originally going to make. I suppose it is better this way -- the original message was very negative and was going to touch on some things I probably shouldn't touch on in such a public place. Hmm.
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