Thanks to my mom and my kids (and that damn bumper sticker) I did reach out.
I did ask for help.
I do want to do the things that I used to do that brought me joy and made me feel like I was a valuable part of a community.
Last night I had a dream that I had to write an important speech for a big audience but I couldn't actually write anything because all I had was a fat paintbrush and a cup of water.
No pen. No ink. No paint. No paper. No canvas. No laptop.
I tried writing with water on the wall but the words evaporated before they could make sense.
The worst part of the dream was that I knew what I needed to write -- words of encouragement, something that would shine a little light into the fog.
When I woke up this morning I shook that nightmare off and knew it was time to stop the silence, stop the quiet, and start to get up and go again.
If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, I hope this small story gives you the push you might have been waiting for to get help.