November, 2004, was the bottom. The problem with the bottom is that, by the time you get there? You've been falling so long that you don't remember how to climb.

Or even if you want to, anymore.

I never realized, as I blogged about it, that the thing that would most connect my words to the world would be neither my "corporate" self nor my "mommy" one - it would be that of a woman loving someone through the long, slow pain of recovery.

But even after all these years, it's the one thing that brings emails to my box, and pings to my instant messenger. I was talking today with a friend who is just in the absolute shits of something like it and I kept wishing I had the words to make it better.

Words don't make it better.

It sucks that the bad guy looks exactly like the person you love. It sucks that the craziness can seem so sane that it makes you wonder if you've got it all backwards. It sucks that so many people in the world think that "suck it up" is a cure, not a band-aid. It sucks that magic wands and glittery potions belong to Harry Potter and here in America we don't even have mental health coverage.

Honey, I love you. And I know you love him/her. And it's all really hard right now. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me. And if there's nothing I can do to help, then just know - you're strong, and beautiful, and amazing. And you will survive.

You will. more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 09:23 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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