"Mommy! Mom! Help!"
Jolted awake, I sit up in bed. I look at the clock and think it must have been a dream. Just as I settle back onto my pillow, I hear the most frightening scream.
"Mom! Help me! I'm so scared. Where are you?"
The sound of his voice sends me bolting out my bedroom door. His panic and intensity scares me so much that I almost fall.
I look in his room and he isn't there.
His voice sounds far away and I start to panic.
"Where are you?" I yell.
"Downstairs bathroom! Hurry mom! Help me!"
Heart pounding, I leap down the stairs and run toward the bathroom. As I do, horrible images enter my head and it feels like an eternity until I reach him.
There he is. Sitting on the toilet. He is completely naked. Tears are streaming down his face and he is shaking.
"Why are you downstairs? What is wrong?" I yell.
My husband enters the bathroom right behind me. I hear my daughter calling out now from her bed.
"What is wrong?" I yell again.
"I was going to the bathroom and then this terrible, scary bug came at me," he sobs. "I was screaming for you forever. I think it's by the door now. I am so scared."
We look near the door and see it.
Another freaking centipede.
You have to be kidding me.
I cradle him in my arms and calm him down.
"It's OK," I say. "Daddy will kill it. It's just a bug. Your safe."
My husband jumps into super protector mode and kills it with a broom. I gather it up with toilet paper and we flush it down the toilet.
I follow my boy into his bedroom. He grabs his panda, snuggles under the covers and slowly starts to settle down.
"Don't you EVER do that to me again," I tell him.
"Sorry mommy," he says. "I was so scared."
"I know love, I know."
After his breath returns to normal and he is settled in, I quickly check on my daughter and head to bed.
The second I enter the safety of my room I start to laugh hysterically.
It's just all so ridiculous.
In a matter of seconds the laughs turn into sobs.
Big, giant sobs that take me down.
My husband looks on in confusion, and I can't explain it.
Sometimes it's all just too much.
I spent my afternoon holding a dear friend who had fallen hard into the darkness and weight of depression and pain. It was a dark day and it scared me.
I know that feeling.
I fear it.
I pray it never returns.
I go to therapy every week to keep from letting it take hold of me again.
When I get home I see the news of the death of Robin Williams.
Bam.
Pow.
Ouch.
Here it is again.
Depression isn't something to be taken lightly or that can be "willed away" by people who love you.
Sometimes all the good, wonderful things in the world aren't enough.
The pain can be deeper and more pervasive than love.
I sit and weep for my friend, for others who have lost the battle and for myself.
After a few minutes, I stop.
I go back to my son, grab him up and hug him hard. He returns it with full force.
"I love you so much," I tell him. "You know that, right?"
He smiles and makes his sweet little cooing sound.
"Yep. I love you momma."
Today is another day.