I am broken.

Everyone is broken, but I've felt more of my broken bits lately. I've found myself struggling a bit more with depression and anxiety, and having to remind myself out loud that depression lies. (For the best posts explaining depression that I have ever read, please read this and this from Hyperbole and a Half.)

I've struggled with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember. But I didn't have a name for what I was experiencing until high school. When my parents divorced, I was sent to a counselor. I was in and out of therapy (and on and off medication) throughout high school and college.

I've learned techniques to cope with bouts of depression and periods of anxiety. I know the little tricks that work when I feel it coming on--deep breathing, yoga, going for a long walk, journaling--and the other things I need to do when I'm in the middle of it. I have coping mechanisms that have helped me keep my depression and anxiety largely under control, even when I was going through the divorce from Monty.

After the divorce, once I was settled in Florida, things were lots better. I was in a career I adore, the munchkins had a good, healthy schedule to get to see Monty and myself regularly, and I was settling into a routine. Then, in February 2014, I met Bo, and fell in love. And things became even more wonderful.

On paper, my life is amazing. My job is going well, Bo and I are getting married in less than three months, the munchkins are doing well, and we are working toward our long-term goals as a family. I should be happy and carefree.

But I'm not.

Even in the midst of the joy of my life, I see depression creeping in, reminding me it's there. I get anxiety attacks that make me stop what I'm doing and take deep breaths to calm down.

I know there's no direct cause of it. There's no even in my life that's making me feel this way. But it's something I struggle with. I always have and I always will.

I am broken.

But it's okay because everyone is broken. And even when I'm in a dark corner and thinking that there's no way I can possibly find a way to turn around and walk into the rest of the room, I know that everyone is broken. Some people are even broken in the same way I am. And that gives me hope for myself.

I am lucky enough to have an amazing support system and a woman who loves me and takes care of me, and even wants to marry my broken self. Knowing that Bo, Puck, and Tink love me even when my broken is all I see gives me hope that I will be able to climb out of the dark corners I sometimes get stuck in. They remind me that depression lies. And that gives me hope, too.

From Allie Brosh's blog, Hyperbole and a Half

I'm planning to write more about myself on the blog. I want to talk about what makes me who I am, what's important to me, and how I'm pushing through bullshit to accomplish my personal and professional goals.

I want to show you my authentic self, and sometimes that's going to be the broken bits. But it doesn't make me any less fabulous. Because, as the Bloggess says, you can be broken and magical at the same time.