Fasten your seatbelts dear reader. I am a hormonal wreck with a blog.

The weather does this thing in Indiana, something I never saw in Utah.

It changes, quickly. I don’t even check the weather anymore out here because it has never, EVER been right. Ever.

A sunny morning could dramatically change to a storm in a matter of moments. When looking out the window at a storm with my kid I know in that it will pass over in fifteen minutes and that it’s not even worth rearranging our day or giving any consideration to.

If the rain sticks around for awhile we don ponytails, waterproof shoes, umbrellas and leave the white tshirts at home.

Other times we’ll be watching a storm and it will change dramatically. Tornado sirens go off. I worry about where our 72 hour kit is. How we would find Cody. What’s even worse is when these kinds of storms happen when I’m out driving alone. I have to choose between pulling off the road or risk continuing on.

Other times I find myself sitting in a downpour. But I can see blue skies just a few miles away. The cloud just seems to be following me around. Head a few minutes in the opposite direction and suddenly I’m under those blue skies, wondering what the heck I was so worried about and wondering if the storm that had me so freaked out ever really happened.

This is depression for me.

I never know when it’s going to sneak up on me. There’s no forecast for such things. And just like the weather there’s no way to prevent it or move it along if I’m just not in the mood for crappy weather.

When I’m in the thick of it I really only have two choices. Pull off or keep going, risking the consequences.

I know it will go away. But when? Sitting under that raincloud staring out at blue sky that is so close is soul crushing sometimes.

Why am I one of the ones stuck under the cloud without an umbrella?

I hate that I will always have a fear of those stupid storm clouds no matter how blue the sky is.


  1. I hope the clouds part and the sun starts shining soon for you.

  2. Oh, Casey. I’m going to find you the most beautiful umbrella to match your smile. It’s all about accessories in life, the little things, that make you smile.

    I’m so sorry for your sad times. Sending you lots of hugs.

  3. Just think of all your readers as those guys who always sprout up with umbrellas for sale right before a downpour starts. We’ve got you covered and we won’t charge an arm and a leg for it either!

    Mim Reply:

    @thegypsymama, what a lovely sentiment!

  4. Oh honey, I’m right there with you. It’s like you read my mind (I JUST blogged about this). I hate that depression is in your life. I hate that it’s in my life. I fear the storm clouds constantly.

  5. I wish I had some wonderful words of wisdom…but I too am cast in dark shadows of the clouds at times-it hurts…
    all I can say is…I Understand and hope the sun shines soon on you

  6. the clouds part faster when you have friends

  7. I’ll be your umbrella any time that I can.

  8. Casey-

    Thank you for being honest about this. I feel like I have to apologize when I’m not funny, when I’m down or when I need help. You help me remember that other people struggle too and that it’s okay to not always have rainbows shooting out of your ass.

    I don’t have an umbrella, but I’ll stand by your side in the storm. Misery loves her some company.

  9. I SO hear you. I don’t have anything better to say than that, but I wanted you to know that. I really REALLY know exactly what you mean.

  10. I get it. And I get that that might be of marginal help (even non-existent) to know. But it’s like Leonard Cohen said: “I’ve been where you’re hanging/I think I can see where you’re pinned.”

  11. Casey,
    I don’t know what to say because I know that even if I get it right nothing will probably make you feel better right this second.

    But I am thinking of you and hoping that the storm passes soon.

    Damn Indiana weather.

  12. I despise those storm clouds.

    (A few years ago, I wrote about the comparison between earthquakes/tremors and my anxiety and subsequent depression, even though I’ve never experienced an earthquake. what is it with natural occurrences that make sense to develop these comparisons?)

  13. Hugs.

  14. (((hugs))) Please remember – Lupron makes everything worse. It hits fast and hard and makes the irrational seem rational. And I think it also makes you forget the good feelings from the recent past, making you feel like you’ve always felt this bad and you’ll always feel this bad. But you won’t. Lupron or not, you won’t always feel this bad. You won’t. You really, really won’t.

  15. On the literal side… we’ve got nice weather forecast for at least the next few days (well, up here in Fort Wayne, that is).

    On the read-between-the-lines side… I hope things start shining for you Casey. I really don’t know you, but you seem to be a really cool cat with what I do know.

    On a could-be-slightly-creepy side… I had a dream that I was at an awards show with my wife and baby. There were three empty seats to my right, and you, Moosh and Cody sat down. I tried to pretend that I didn’t notice because I didn’t want an awkward moment to happen. Then YOU saw me (and somehow recognized me?) and freaked about how it’s a small world and all that. And that was it. Dream over.

  16. You know that if you ever SEE a tornado while driving, you’re supposed to pull over and lie face down in a ditch, right? Your car could get picked up and tossed. If you’re low to the ground, though, you’re safer, and the ditch will (hopefully) prevent larger debris from landing on you.

    I’ve lived in Indiana 33 years, been in one tornado, and have never had to lie down in a ditch. But it’s important to know what to do.

    I get the metaphor. I just worry about people from out of state who aren’t used to this foolishness.

    You know what we say – “Welcome to Indiana! If you don’t like the weather, don’t worry, it’ll change in 10 minutes!”

    I hope your skies get sunnier soon.

  17. We’ve had rain rain rain lately! I think the worst part of it is the humidity. When we lived in CO we didn’t have any and I think Utah is the same way, right? Humidity sucks.

  18. Hi Casey,

    I’ve been a lurker for a while, but your post resonated deeply with me.

    I’ve been in those storms, looking at the sunshine, and wondering if I *want* to make the effort to walk towards it.

    I wish you the best; I’ll be thinking about you and sending good vibes your way.

  19. Casey I just wrote you a HUGE email right now telling you a whole lot of information you probably don’t need to hear from someone you don’t even know. So I’m going to refrain from unleashing that on you and just say this – I don’t know what you’re going through, no one really can. But I am on a first name basis with depression and endometriosis, and the midwest with all of its comical weather whiplash has smacked me around quite a bit. So if you ever need someone, I can be there. Please don’t hesitate.

    Sending you an armful of umbrellas and the reminder that you CAN do this. XOXO.

  20. Thus the saying, “If you don’t like Indiana weather? Wait 15 minutes!” It was all too true last weekend in Bloomington — 9 a.m. huge rain and by 11 a.m. full-on sun.

    As for the emotional clouds, yup, I can relate. Sending you hugs and an open offer to retreat to IL any time you want. (Weather is a bit more predictable here, but beware of the 5-month winter. It’s in April while still wearing my winter coat that I feel exactly as you do)

  21. Oh sweet babydoll.
    I’m so sorry.
    Sending you the giantest hug from me and since you’ve actually gotten more than one in person, you know just how it feels.

    Could it be the Lupron?
    I’m sorry lovebug {hugs}

    *sending you blue skies, rainbows and sunshine to break through the clouds*

  22. Holy crap do I know how you feel. It always comes back, no matter what I do or how far ahead I think I get. I’ve come to realize that it’s never fully going to go away.

    Just remember this will pass, and keep going. *hugs*

  23. I’m praying for you Casey. There will be sunny blue skies with a GINORMOUS rainbow soon!!

  24. This is EXACTLY how I feel. I’ve been going back and forth about whether or not to write about it because I don’t know who might read it and what they might think of me. I don’t want to be ashamed that I need help, but I am. I hope the clouds part SOON, for both of us.

  25. I know that feeling EXACTLY. As does my poor husband who has to deal with me when the storms come!

  26. I’m new to your blog but I wanted to tell you to hang on. I’m just barely on the other side of a bad bout of depression and it’s horrible. Depression, not getting through it. Good luck with whatever you do. And hang on. If I could I would reach through the computer and give you a big hug.

  27. A silver lining for your cloud…Lexapro and others related to it might help you get preggers! It did it to me (now if only I could make it stick past 8 weeks, I’d be all good, but anyway) A lot of women with IF and depression have an immunity to serotonin, and when they are on an SSRI it counteracts that immunity and wham-o-bam-o PREGNANT! Just sayin’ One more drug can’t hurt at this point, right!?!?

  28. oh yeah, i know that well, except mine isn’t the cloud, it’s the deep chasm/pit that opens up in front of me and sometimes i stop at the edge and sometimes i fall in and have to claw my way out, i never know when the ground will split, i fear that chasm will call my name for the rest of my life, but i say, can’t go back, can’t go over, can’t go around, must go through…

  29. Praying it’s a quick passing storm. If you need someone to hold your umbrella, I’m not far away.


  30. May you always have plenty of oreos in your proverbial 72 hour kit.

  31. Probably said before- but I will say it again. Thanks for that eloquent description of depression. Those who don’t suffer just don’t understand what it’s like to be walking around with that grey cloud and no umbrella when everyone else seems to be standing under blue skies. They don’t understand that we just can’t walk on over at that moment and sometimes need to continue on under the cloud with the hope of walking out into blue sunny skies soon.

    ((hugs)) and prayers from your fellow grey sky wanderer

  32. I tried to explain depression to my husband this way recently: it’s like I open my eyes on any given day, and I know the likelihood of my perspective being realistic is about 2%, so on a nearly daily basis I have to start my day by gathering all the tools in my box and building myself a new reality. A brighter one, to follow your analogy – a reality where it’s not raining or gray and where I have the slightest chance to feel relief and breath fresh air. Some days I am just too tired for the build, and I’m stuck with my faulty perspective. Those are not good days. Some days I feel stronger and I get the new lens built and erected before too much damage has been done, and I can see things a little more clearly and feel a little more whole. It’s an exhausting process. I am grateful that my husband tries to understand, but it can be very difficult to wonder why it take so much work for me to get through my day, when for others it seems so easy. Here’s me praying that you’re strong enough for the build soon, or that you can at least outrun the rain.

  33. Oh, honey. I’ve been there. I mean, I’m there, right now.

    So I’m sending you this.

  34. I so feel ya, lady!

    I’m going through some stormy clouds time right now. It appears to go in waves, as I went through a bad depression about five years ago. And I’ve noticed that I’m heading down that road again, so I’m hoping to nip it in the bud so it doesn’t get so bad this time.

    Hugs to you, my friend!

  35. You made me cry. Thanks for voicing this so eloquently. I’ve been searching for these words. I’m so sorry that you’re in this same place. I hope that the sun breaks through for us both soon.

    (I linked to you in my latest post – hope you don’t mind.)

  36. Very well put. I hope you find some sunshine soon to dry that rain a little.

  37. Welcome to the Midwest: Land of corn, cows, and crazy-ass weather.

  38. Let’s see, you stay home with a preschooler, hubby’s getting ready for the bar, bought a new house, live far from family, going through a lot of medical garbage….I think you have every right to get depressed sometimes. The important thing is that you recognize it for what it is and roll with it – which you are!

  39. That is such a perfect analogy for depression. I once described it as falling into an abyss, but before it hits, before I fall, there are the clouds the predict the coming storm. I hope you get your blue skies soon.

  40. I’m with Mim. Perfect description that a lot of people never really understand.

  41. Oh, Moosh, the weather’s just the same here in NC. Thank you for putting this **** we deal with into some lovely words. Keep your chin up. There will be sunshine, for all of us…