IN PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.

I had my first battle with depression while living in New York City. I simply woke up one morning––in the prime of my youth––and without any warning at all, felt small. Without any warning I felt sad. I was, without any warning, any specific reason, or any real cure, a mess. Just like that.And then it went away. And then it came back. And then it went away. And then it came back. About once a month, or every few weeks, I just went down. Though sometimes coupled with heartache, heavy drinking or stress, there seemed to be no real rhyme or reason to it. I was now just, as a young, healthy twenty-something, one of the millions of Americans who suffered from depression.As a writer, this seemed fitting––suffering was common among my favorite authors. But as a human being who had to live with this burdensome sadness, fitting was of little comfort. You've had sore muscles before, no doubt. Well depression feels like that, if your soul can be considered a muscle. It makes it hard to get out of bed, walk, talk or do just about anything necessary for life. Depression is a limp of the heart.Then for many years I just sucked it up and carried it around. I carried it to the wine shop where I feel my work certainly suffered on the bad days. I carried it to the bar, to my friend's houses, to brunch, to shows, everywhere. I never really dwelled on it, I just absorbed it into my character. Jesse Frost, sometimes sad.When I came to Bugtussle in 2010, I didn't expect it to go away. I had made this dramatic change in my life hoping it would, but didn't expect it to. And it didn't immediately. I remember one long night, a couple weeks into my internship, where I got a visit from the soreness and thought, "I guess you found me."But the other day Hannah and I were laying on our backs, smothering Further with kisses, while he laughed wildly. And I was laughing wildly. And my beautiful wife was laughing wildly. It was then that I realized six years had passed since my last bout with depression, six years since the last time I was anything but thrilled to get out bed.I'm not saying farming cured me, or family cured me, or could cure anyone else, but having gone this long without crippling sadness I'm not conceding it either. I eat better, I exercise a lot, I love what I do, and I have the most amazing people around me at all times. If I couldn't be happy in that, I must be broken.I also used to think of my depression as part of my character, but I don't see it that way anymore. My depression was not my personality, but a symptom of not doing what I was––forgive the cliché––meant to do with my life. Wild laughter, however, in the best of company, I believe, is a signal that I may be on the right track.- Jesse Frost, pretty darn happy.