I’m in uncharted territory here.

I have so many obligations yet I have so much hanging heavy on my heart.

I’m having to put my head down and plow through all of my responsibilities, one by one, feeling the slightest bit of reprieve with every ‘to-do’ that is checked off of my list.

Many of you have asked what happened, if I know what triggered this latest struggle and I’m sorry to say that I don’t. I think I was doing most everything right, taking my medication, sleeping well, loving fiercely and enjoying the sunshine when all of a sudden I was thumped upside the head with a lump in my throat and a tingling in my hands. Cody has stepped in where I fell off and has picked up all the pieces I left behind on my way to curl up and cry on the couch. To all of you who have thanked me for my honesty and truth, I ask you to please thank Cody. He’s the one that fights on the front lines, loves me fiercely and carries me until I’m me again.

I’m having to write through this little slump like I’ve never had to write before. I have other people depending on my words and unfortunately I can’t turn in a dozen articles about how I had to leave the dinner table twice last night so Addie didn’t see me cry or about how I spent the afternoon crying in a parking lot yesterday because a bakery went out of business (there was more to the story than that, but the stupid bakery started it.)

Friends have stepped in. Friends from high school, friends from law school and friends from every odd little corner of life have bubbled up to give me words of support, confident that if anyone can beat whatever this is, it’s me.

Marta left me my new favorite comment:

“You are so great. Exactly as you are. You don’t need to keep a 100 plates in the air, or even 50. You can let them down, or they can even fall and shatter, and either way you will make magic of what you have left. Keep fighting, keep going. Breathe. Rest. Fight again.”

That’s exactly what I’m doing. Breathe, rest, fight again.

I wrote her back and told her I now had an insatiable desire to photograph shattered plates, even if they are metaphorical.


I have two very dear friends out there in the world who have no idea what’s coming. Very soon they will be showered with love, praise, affection, adoration and support by those who know them best (and perhaps some who know them hardly at all.) There is something magical about going to your mailbox, pulling out a hand written card and knowing that at some point in the last few days someone was focused only on you. From the moment they picked out the card, the time they spent writing in it, the time they spent addressing it down to the stamp they picked as well as the walk to the mailbox, you were in their heart and on their mind.

Emily pulled off the most grand baby shower I could have ever imagined. For weeks, cards and notes poured in from friends near, dear, far, and away. The organization that went into makes my head spin and the thought behind so many people being so willing to play along, my heart, it swells. Three years ago as I sat around a giant conference table in Kansas City at Hallmark, a service was discussed where a bunch of people from all over the world could all get in on one giant ‘GOOD WISHES!’ for a friend. I’d like to say it was me who came up with the suggestion and therefore take all the credit, but it probably wasn’t.

Hallmark now offers a free Card Shower service which is currently making the world a happier place, one postage stamp at a time. I’ve already participated in two and there’s more to come (surprises!) You can email an invitation to your friends and then they have the option to either put a card in the mail themselves or go online to Hallmark.com and purchase a card to be mailed for them with their own personal message. You can pick the date for the cards to arrive as well as where the cards should go (to you? to the recipient?) It’s a simple little way to get people rallied around each other in a way that is more personal than email and more proactive than a facebook message.

Writing out a card today for my friend and walking it to the mailbox set alight a tiny little spark inside me. In a few days she’s going to open a card from me. One I picked out with her in mind. She’s going to know that I thought about her and for a moment she’s going to smile. I did that for her. It’s a good feeling. One that lifts me above all my own miseries, even if only for a moment.


I’m so grateful to partner with Hallmark in 2012 on their “Life is a Special Occasion” campaign again and I thank them tremendously for their patience with me, supporting me in all that I do and for sponsoring this post.


  1. Oh Casey. You’re so spectacular, no plate juggling needed.

    Much love to you. xx

  2. Amy in StL says:

    I’m part of a very exclusive (not by design, but whatever) club. We’re The Lot Sobbers. When something goes wrong and we can’t get alone time at home or where we are, we find a nice quiet lot and sob away. Or a busy lot where we can sob and glare. It was comforting for me to know I wasn’t the only one who did this and it’s nice to have some friends who I can tell about my latest sob in the outparcel of a Kmart. You’re welcome to join the club. Maybe you can start an Indy branch! (We don’t have t-shirts, but we should have bumperstickers, no??)

  3. stupid little comment box staring at me begging me to tell you just the right thing.

    what were the great things people said to me?

    I don’t even know.

    You have been in my heart, though. Even without words.

  4. Cody is indisputably awesome, but you are the bringer of truth and light and inspiration in this particular corner of the internet.
    And you are still you, you have just forgotten temporarily because that @#$% depression has it’s grubby paws over your eyes.
    What Marta said with the breathing and the resting and the fighting.
    This will pass.

  5. I love this card shower and I love you. I really do and I hate that you are in this space (if you’re still there when you see this comment.) If there’s anything I can do… you know it. I pray you get a reprieve, you really need a break, a breather, some fresh air. Big love to you.


  6. I meant every word. You also made my day posting that =)

    You bring so much happiness into people’s lives. I know your friend will love her cards.

  7. Thank you for being you and being open and sharing your life with us all! I love you so much…so very much!! XOXO

  8. Please hang in there! You have a lot of great but overwhelming events happening in your life. You are amazing and will get through this.

  9. oh dear Casey. I find I love you even more with each post about depression. So many appreciate you, well and not well.

    We know what you feel, how hard it is and how brave you are. We are grateful for your honesty and often wish we could be as honest. Thank you, from not only the bottom on my heart, but with all that I have in this season. Your daughters are so blessed to have a mom like you

  10. If there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know. Sure, I can’t take great pictures, write great posts, make everyone feel understood…aw, crap, maybe I can’t do anything to help. 🙂
    We can totally table our thing. And seriously, even if it’s just taking you out for a gluten free cupcake, I’m in.

  11. Casey, Although we have never met, I have read enough of your posts now to feel like I “know” you a little bit. I’m so sorry to hear that you’re struggling and I wish I could say the right things to help you. I’m glad you’re writing it through it. I’ve said on more than one occasion that writing is my therapy and I would bet it helps you too. I’m glad that your family and friends are supporting you and I just hope that this dark period is a small blip and passes quickly. Let the professional jugglers handle all the juggling that’s needed and just focus on you and your family. If the plates fall, they fall. Who cares? They clean up easily. Thinking of you!

  12. c, the light always comes…and, you are light.



  1. […] After a marvelous evening filled with friends, cupcakes and dancing…I feel more like myself and less like a slug. […]