Depressed?

My primary care doctor offered me anti-depressants. I'm guessing it was because I was crying in her office. Not because I wanted to, but because neither she or the nurse bothered to look at my paperwork BEFORE walking into the examination room. And I wasn't prepared to hear, "Congratulations!" as I started to explain my recent hospitalization.

I think she meant well. And really, this is the second time we've met. It was a physical, scheduled a year ago. And I kept the appointment. My mistake?

She suggested that some people feel like they need to feel sad. Which I found insulting on the surface, but I think she was trying to say that some people feel like they can't move on. That they need to stay in a sad place in order to honor the experience of losing a child.

But from what I understand, you don't choose to be depressed. Either you are, or you aren't. And perhaps you can nudge those feelings along with the help of drugs, therapy and all sorts of alternative medicine.

Right now I've chosen the path of natural endorphins, through exercise, along with an army of friends who keep it real.

I also know that what is considered "normal" for grieving is specific to culture. Different societies have different levels of acceptability for how long it's okay to be sad - and how to display (or not) those feelings.

I write this on the night of my 36th birthday. Four months since Sarah died. Thirty six is a multiple of 18 - chai in Hebrew. Which means life. Hence the toast you're likely familiar with - l'chaim - to life.

I'm only superstitious for fun of it, but my wish this year is for life to be kind and fulfilling. And for the good feelings to outweigh the sad.

L'chaim.