Sometimes the worst thing you can do for a person suffering from depression is to leave him or her alone.

I am well aware of this fact. However, as a natural introvert I shy away from company and gravitate toward the comforts of solitude. Where I can be alone with my thoughts of despair and disarray.

So it is fortunate timing that I am no longer alone 24×7.

Wait, not fortunate, but gracious.

God must’ve known this would come up. You can never get anything past Him, I tell ya.

Well before our coming forth with my depression, our pastor’s family asked two favors of us, both of which can only help me on my way to recovery.

The first was to ask me to come help babysit their 4-month-old son a couple of days a week.

Picture taken two days ago. Yep, he’s at that stage where
he wants to put everything and anything into his mouth.

Isn’t he the cutest little thing? I still remember seeing him at the hospital right after he was born and marveling at how tiny he was (he was a preemie). Now, he is at normal height and weight, reacting to stimuli and gurgling and crying just like the rest of ‘em.

I start babysitting next week. I think that getting out of the house on a semi-regular basis will definitely help establish a routine and a peace of mind. In addition, having someone be entirely reliant on me can only help reset my priorities.

The second favor involves someone I’ve written about before…

Yes, Comang the shih-tzu is back! And this time, for good. With the baby and a new apartment in a high-rise building, our pastor and his wife decided that it would be best for the dog to go to another family.

Forcing myself to walk Comang twice a day, clean up after him, and play with him does keep my mind away from its usual gloom and doom. Plus, it is a proven fact that dog owners are generally happier and healthier people. 

The last time I sought help for my depression, I went through a slew of psychologists and psychiatrists. Having grown up in the church, I even visited a few Christian therapists.

The one I ended up choosing was not Christian; rather, she was a prim and proper Jewish woman with a smooth, articulate voice that managed to cut through all the BS in my life. Unlike other therapists who were prone to asking, “So how does that make you feel?” or “What do you think that means?” she actually analyzed my thoughts and reactions, often giving her opinion and advice on top of my jumbled interpretation of events.

She was not afraid to chastise me, which made me shed quite a few tears right there in her office. I resented her for doing so – was I not the patient? Doesn’t she have an obligation to be nice to me?

However, I knew that the real reason behind my resentment was rooted in the fact that I knew she was right. She was merely pointing out the facts that were too painful or too embarrassing for me to see or admit.

Dr. K is still a practicing psychologist and I would recommend her in a heartbeat. I almost looked forward to seeing her again when J demanded that I seek help for my condition.

However, J suggested that we turn to the church this time – more specifically, our pastor.

I have to admit that I was a bit hesitant about the situation. In a strange way, I find it a lot easier to air my grievances to a stranger than to our pastor and friend.

But I wanted to do it. I wanted to see how this disease is viewed and treated from a Christian perspective.

Our first session was brief but sweet. And he told me something that I will remember forever.

To the secular world, my depression can act as a shield or even an excuse for my actions.

But to God, there is no excuse. I am still accountable for my own thoughts and actions.

It was like a slap to the face.

And it was exactly what I needed.

This isn’t to say that I am now 100% better. To tell you the truth, it still took all the energy I had to get out of bed this morning. I still had the usual morbid thoughts. I still cried a few times today, which has been de rigueur for my days in the past couple of months.

The big difference is that I now hold myself accountable. I have to take charge of my life.

And I have faith that I will get through this through God’s grace, at His own time, with the means of His choosing.

The first stage is denial.

The signs are all there: insomnia as well as bouts of 14+ hour sleep marathons; withdrawal from social interactions; resistance to activities I once enjoyed; my emotional health taking a toll on my physical health; and a general indifference to the joys of life.

And the crying.

Oh, the crying.

The first stage is denial.

Long ago, a friend told me that I had a “paste-on smile.” When I questioned the meaning behind this phrase, he pointed out that I had a very nice smile, but it always made him wonder what I was hiding underneath. I had divulged to him some of my darkest thoughts and fears, you see.

I flash my “paste-on smile” to the public. Even to J. Everything is fine here. There’s nothing to see. Keep moving, people.

The first stage is denial.

To the outside world, I live a storybook life. A loving family. A charming, handsome husband. Caring friends. A comfortable home.

Within the past year, I have even been told by three separate people that they envy my life.

Only if they knew.

I am caught in a downward spiral of self-destruction. I do not deserve this life. I do not deserve happiness.

And one by one, I begin chipping away at this “happiness,” the lies that permeate my core being.

The first stage is denial.

My marriage is hanging on by a thin thread. J approaches me.

I cry. I have hurt him. I cry more.

He lifts the veil from my eyes. I see the truth. It has returned.

He urges me to seek help. He shoots the emails and sets up the appointment. He sits beside me at our first meeting.

I am no longer in denial.

Last night’s girls night out was one of the craziest in recent memory.

I won’t go into too much details, but suffice it to say that I stumbled home at an unreasonable hour and spent a good portion of the morning hugging the toilet.

Although we had made dinner plans, my friend E told me to meet her for $10 manis & martinis at Beauty Bar. I had read about this establishment before but it had seemed a bit too “girly” for my tastes.

In addition, I hadn’t had a manicure in about a decade – I have an issue with strangers touching me (I even refuse to get facials or massages) and I was a bit nervous.

However, I was in dire need of some girl-on-girl time. Well that, and the $10 price tag for a drink and a manicure won me over.

Perhaps it was the strong liquor coursing through my veins (on an empty stomach, no less).

Perhaps it was the dark, slightly goth but utterly chill environment (not girly at all).

Or maybe it was all the comments about how a dark color will look great on my white hands (flattery goes a long way).

Whatever the reason, the bartender, the manicurist, and E convinced me to choose a bright and shimmery shade of red.

I had to take a picture because painting my nails in this attention-grabbing red is so uncharacteristic of me. Who knows when I will do this again?

However, I have to admit that red nails did give me a shot of adrenaline and a boost of confidence. I felt like a vixen, and found myself using my hands more often throughout the night. Gesticulating during conversations. An added touch here and there to prove a point.

Who knew how much influence a little nail color can have over me?

I am a full week late, but here’s a short recap!

We didn’t actually see the film at the premiere. Apparently, none of the celebrities or Hollywood insiders actually watch the film at the premiere – they’re mostly there for press, publicity, and the party. So on Monday evening, the night before the premiere, we attended a private screening of the film.

I loved it.

It was exactly my type of movie – cute, quirky, and fun. I was so, so proud of Marvin (the executive producer of the film) and thankful that I have the opportunity to work with such great talent.

The next night, Tuesday the 10th, was the night of the premiere.

(On a side note, thank you for your help on the dress selection! I did order the Bluefly dress and I liked it a lot. However, I found a BCBG dress that I liked slightly better, and it was a steal at 70% off! I ended up returning the Bluefly dress but if I weren’t so cash-strapped I think I would’ve kept it for a future event.)

The party was held at the penthouse of the swanky Soho Grand hotel and it was an experience to say the least.

Outside the lobby was a small group of fans who were waiting for the stars to arrive. I felt a small adrenaline rush as we gave our name and security ushered us to the elevator. The space was smaller than I expected but still spectacular with gorgeous views that could not be beat. The cityscape was so mindblowing that we  braved the freezing cold for a few minutes to stand outside on the terrace.

When the stars of the film finally arrived, I couldn’t help but get giddy. However, I did my best to keep my cool. Unfortunately, I was a bit too star-struck to get photos with the stars (and I admit I didn’t want to act like a total dork and go camera-happy) but I did manage to snap these of Marvin…

Tom Hanks was exactly how I expected him to be: very friendly and charming.

I kind of froze up around John Malkovich, because I am such a huge fan. He was a bit reserved but still very nice and polite.

Our little team: Marvin, me, and James.

‘The Great Buck Howard’ opens this Friday the 20th! Go watch it – I highly recommend it!