I have things I really need to do.

Things for work so that I don’t let down people I admire.

I am in bed in the dark at 8:00 pm.

“Everything okay?” Casey asked.

“Um, it’s been a fucking week.” I listed off the things bringing me down. I started to write them here, but the list looks ridiculous. “I’ve learned in the last 18 months that I am the ‘paralyzed by sadness’ type.”

“That’s depression.”

“I know. I’ve just learned that beyond keeping our kids alive, I’m not one of those functional depressed people.”