Why does depression always hit right when everything in my life is upside down and I can't really focus on myself? Oh...wait... 9:22 AM Feb 4th from webIt was a bit of a throwaway...Those of you on Twitter know what I mean. It was just what was on my mind at that moment; within thirty seconds, though, I was thinking about something else. I mean, sure, I've been struggling a little lately, but...you know. You KNOW. I know you do.
What I'd forgotten, however, is that Baroy is on Twitter. Rarely, but he's there. And he just so happened to check his feed that day, and I guess my comment worried him. When I got home that night, he pulled me aside, looked deeply into my eyes, and asked me if everything was OK.
I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about.
"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Oh," he said, taken aback. "It's just...I read on Twitter...and..."
"Ah," I said, understanding, waving my hand dismissively, embarrassed. "Well, yeah, you know how it's been. Just a hard time right now. I was just feeling sorry for myself. But I'm fine. I'll be fine."
Except, of course, that for my (you know what men are like, right?) need-to-fix-it husband, "I'll be fine" wasn't good enough. And so he's spent the last couple of days trying to make me feel better.
His first couple of attempts were totally male, and that's all I'll say about that. But then I came home today, after a morning out with the kids, to a newly mopped kitchen floor, a scrubbed stovetop, and a oven that...Wait. You have to see it to believe it.
To make it even more impressive? That is an OOOOOOLLLLLLDDDDDD oven. At least 35 years old. Maybe more. So to get it that clean? Took some serious dedication.
I sometimes forget, in the midst of being annoyed at him about this or that or the other little thing, what a good guy he is. What a good person he is. In many ways, a better person than I am. Because I can say without hesitation that, were the tables turned, I'd be all eyerollingly annoyed that he was falling apart on me at a difficult time. I would not, on a free-to-do-what-I-want-by-myself Saturday morning, be scrubbing years-old sweet potato leavings from the bottom of an ancient oven to try to make him feel better.
That my friends, is love. I'm so lucky. I just need to remember that.