{"id":176,"date":"2013-07-22T23:38:23","date_gmt":"2013-07-22T23:38:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nicholasroy.net\/blog\/?p=176"},"modified":"2016-02-03T02:48:31","modified_gmt":"2016-02-03T02:48:31","slug":"missing-the-part-of-me-that-could-cry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/?p=176","title":{"rendered":"The Part of Me That Could Cry"},"content":{"rendered":"

All text and images copyright (c) 2013 by Nicholas Roy. All rights reserved. No duplication or reuse without written consent of the author.<\/p>\n

\"Gilbert<\/a>
Gilbert Street, Iowa City, Summer<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I remember crying easily as a child. When a grandparent or family friend died, I remember crying for a long time. In high school, I remember sobbing in the stairwell because I got a C. I had a long bout with depression between the ages of 8 and 22.<\/p>\n

By the time I was 25, I was dangerously overweight, from eating, from the depression. I remember thinking: I’m going to kill the part of me that is sad. I don’t know how I did it, other than to say that through some force of will, I stopped being depressed, and I lost about 140 lbs. I have kept the weight off and have not been depressed for over 10 years now.<\/p>\n

\"Evening<\/a>
Evening summer sky above an Iowa prairie<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This afternoon, I came the closest I have since been to falling back into that despair. My wonderful wife is across the ocean doing her research. I have not been able to hug her in over two months, and there is more than a month left before she is back. I’m in a new place, with a new job. The new job is the hardest I have ever had. I’ve easily been able to think my way out of tough spots in jobs before, but this new one challenges me in ways I have never been challenged before. I miss my wife, my parents and my friends.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/a>
The sun sets over an Iowa tallgrass prairie<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This afternoon, I missed Skyping my wife because of a dumb problem at work that really isn’t a problem. I haven’t Skyped with her in nearly a week. I missed her going to bed by 13 minutes. I know, because I have the Facebook chat record to show it. I was driving home when she messaged saying she was going to bed. I was so angry at myself for missing this chance to see her face. I was so angry and so sad. I felt the welcome point of a dark gray cone of despair1<\/sup> puncture my sternum from the outside, the point pressing against my heart. I felt the tears well up inside. I let out a muted shriek of disgust and pity.<\/p>\n

And then it was gone. I did not cry. I could not cry. I had killed that part of myself in order to save the rest of me.<\/p>\n

\"My<\/a>
My Parents’ Garden<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

1\u00a0Dark gray cones of despair are about 8 inches long, with a vertex angle of roughly 10 degrees. \u00a0They are nicely Gouraud shaded. \u00a0Yes, I saw the cone. \u00a0It was a “Donnie Darko” moment.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

All text and images copyright (c) 2013 by Nicholas Roy. All rights reserved. No duplication or reuse without written consent of the author. I remember crying easily as a child. When a grandparent or family friend died, I remember crying for a long time. In high school, I remember sobbing in the stairwell because I … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “The Part of Me That Could Cry”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[195,193,200,201,196],"tags":[152,151,153,108],"class_list":["post-176","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-depression-essay","category-essay","category-iowa-2","category-pennsylvania-2","category-personal","tag-loneliness","tag-sadness","tag-work","tag-writing"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p8dkOC-2Q","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/176","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=176"}],"version-history":[{"count":17,"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/176\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":310,"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/176\/revisions\/310"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=176"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=176"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicoleroy.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=176"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}