Sometimes it’s okay to pretend you’re fine when you’re not.

Sometimes it’s okay to tell people that, actually, you feel so bad that you struggle to simply get out of bed in the morning.

Sometimes you’ll fight the awful feelings because they get at a deeper truth, that you’ve relapsed, maybe just a bit, and this idea terrifies you.

Sometimes breaking down in your gardening clothes wearing soil-laden gloves is just what you need to do.

Sometimes your husband will come to you and not know what to do or say as you weep, but he won’t leave or ignore your pain or pretend it isn’t happening.

Sometimes he’ll tell you, as gently as he can, that you need help.

Sometimes your therapist will have an opening two hours after you e-mail her and you’ll go to her couch and finally, gratefully, weep.

Sometimes she’ll confirm for you that, yes, you’re in a really, really bad place. You’re depressed again and it’s okay. It happens because you get too distanced from your own needs, and there have been one too many crises in your life lately.

Sometimes just hearing her confirm that your pain is real will help you begin feel better.

Sometimes you’ll feel like a superhero because you got one really annoying errand done.

Sometimes you’ll drive five kids to soccer practice and love listening to their sweet, loud, innocent conversation.

Sometimes your daughter will time a fart so perfectly that you’ll laugh so hard that you cry.

Sometimes you’ll go to bed feeling just a little bit hopeful because even if tomorrow morning’s waking is difficult, the day can actually turn out okay.