The dress pictured here is one that my fiancé bought me in Paris, for my birthday, in late July. At that time I wrote:

I don’t think I’ll fit into it…until next summer

Today, I was reorganizing our closet space and came across the bag containing this dress. I was right in the middle of a huge task, but immediately took off all my clothes and tried this on. When I’d tried it on in Paris, I’d asked Antoine to zip it up; it would only go about midway up my back, but otherwise wouldn’t zip (or maybe it would have, but he would have ripped the delicate linen in the process).

This time, I got Antoine to zip me up…and up it did zip. It fits very well, with a little extra room.

So, you’d think this would mean a lot to me. And, in a way, it does. I’m glad. I would have been really crushed if it hadn’t fit, but I also was not expecting it to do so.

I’m struggling right now, with a lot of things. I’ve been diagnosed as clinically depressed, which is actually something I view as a positive thing – it’s nice to be getting to the bottom of things that have troubled me my entire life. (I’ve probably been depressed since I was about five years old, which is perhaps why I never wanted to believe I was depressed; I can’t remember living any other way.)

So I’m starting to make the connection between my depression and how it manifests in my behavior – eating the wrong things, drinking too much, and arranging my life so that it is so hectic that I won’t have time to slow down and be hit hard by the feelings of depression. My therapist has also shown me how even my incredible impatience is tied to my need never to slow down enough for those feelings to take root.

There are other manifestations too personal to mention here, but my worry right now is that while I am finally making the intellectual connection between these feelings and how I act as a result of them, I am having a hard time feeling the way I should be. Logically, having made such good progress, I should be feeling fantastic. Instead, I almost always feel as if I am getting bigger, even though I know I am shrinking. I obsess on these feelings a lot more than I should. It all gets me down, and lately I am tending to drink more or be more careless in my food choices because I just want some relief. (Another aspect of how my depression manifests is a vein of wanting relief. This is either relief from depression and loneliness, or relief from the pace I subject myself to so that I “won’t have time” to be depressed.)

So, yeah, I am making progress in lots of different ways. Most days, it just doesn’t feel like it. I’m not asking for anyone to give me reassurance – believe me, I get it from lots of people on a daily basis (poor Antoine, always having to hear about how hideous I feel, has it worst) – but if anyone has had a similar experience and would like to share, I’d really appreciate it.