Feeling good these days is NOT over rated. Feeling good is something I only dreamed about... and hadn't felt in so long that I'd honestly forgotten. Feeling good is ... well... a pretty darn good feeling.
As I sat on one of the many airplanes on our return to India last week, I looked out the window over my two little girlies watching another movie and I exhaled. The kind of exhaling you do when you're suddenly aware that you're taking a deeeeeeeeep breath in and then sloooowwwwly letting it out. It was an exhale where I had to look around me and see if anyone noticed the small noises that probably accompanied it. It was refreshing. It was eye opening. I felt alive.
When Grady was about a week old, my girlfriend called me while Matt was dropping the girls off at school. I don't quite remember what I was doing when the phone rang, but I do remember what happened when she asked me the most innocent of questions, "How are YOU doing?" While the normal person would answer with, "I'm okay" or "I'm fine", the emotional person (me) answered with hysterical, gut wrenching sobs, "I'm gulp-gulp-sniff....so...sniff-sniff-huh-huh... happy."
For several years I spent too much time worrying. Worrying about when "it" was going to happen. Wondering why every medical issue seemed to be happening to me. Spending way to many nights asking myself, "Why?" It was often difficult to put on a smiling face. I became a recluse. In retrospect, it impinged my feelings about being in Israel. I had so many thoughts and dreams that weren't fulfilled. I couldn't wait to leave, to get away, to move on. I sadly willed away our last year, and what coulda-shoulda-woulda been...
The discomfort of (in)fertility was almost too much to handle. From the emotional rollercoaster beforehand to the physical during. Endless shots, blood tests, sciatica, doctors appointments, weight gain. Can't this cool cat ever catch a break?
I'd forgotten what true happiness felt like. Forgotten how good it felt to wake up in the morning and feel rested. Not well rested as in getting a good night sleep. Rather emotionally rested, where the weight of the world is finally lifted off your shoulders and you can exhale a sigh of relief. It was that instance, that moment in time, where I finally realized that I felt good.
As hard as depression is to admit, it's almost harder to accept when it passes. What? You mean I'm allowed to feel good? I no longer have to wonder when "it" was going to happen? I don't have to put on a fake smile and tell another friend how "happy" I am for them, all-the-while cringing inside? I can actually go out and smile a real, honest to goodness smile?
And yet as I sat down on the couch eight weeks ago trying to catch my breath, and tell my girlfriend that I really was okay, I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. Heartfelt words that slipped off my tongue as easily as easily and quickly as the tears streamed down my face.
This is going to be a great year. I am at peace. I am truly happy. I finally feel... and it's ALL good.