I just posted on Instagram today that I’m not running the NYC Marathon. Embedding the post below for the why.
I don’t want to be the woman who tells you I don’t think I have the strength to run a marathon right now when I’ve been the woman who took more than an hour off of her marathon time.
I don’t want to be the woman who keeps writing about depression when I’ve been the woman who’s felt on top of the world and so happy with her life. Who went to inpatient treatment and moved to her dream place and is still deeply struggling with depression.
I’m scared of what you’ll say. I’ve internalized so much of the mental illness stigma that I can’t just get past things, that I’m weak, that I’m a burden, bla bla bla.
But as much as that’s not the image I want to be sharing—I so desperately want to just be on the other side—that’s who I am right now, and I’m working on accepting that. And for as much as I’d love to be sharing about carefree adventures in California, it’s so important for me to be sharing my truth. It helps me, and as I always say, if it helps just one of you, it’s worth it.

I’m trying a new depression treatment right now, and it’s really promising. Nothing will cure chronic depression/bipolar/whatever it is I have, but this treatment gives me a lot of hope for a better quality of life, and I’ve seen some of that already. I’ll share more about it when I’m done, but I’m still in the midst of it, and I’m processing it privately before I share it publicly.
But for now, it feels good to be back here again, sharing.
