Can You Say One Word That Describes Sadness? Why Did You Choose That Word?

Cancer.

I don't use that word lightly, but I choose it for two reasons. The most obvious is that there has been no sadder period in my life than witnessing my daughter's battle with cancer. While I am proud of her strength, the slow and agonizing process of her fight and her eventual recovery have been sources of profound sadness. In a recent support group for parents whose children have cancer, another parent shared that they didn't know a single parent going through this who wasn't taking antidepressants.

At the same time, I have struggled with clinical depression throughout my adult life. This profound sadness can start almost imperceptibly, affecting your perception in unexpected ways. Like a tumor, it can grow anywhere. Perhaps the world seems a little less bright and colorful, or jokes seem less funny, and favorite activities seem less enjoyable. Over time, you learn the triggers and where it lives in you, but it can still surprise you.

Like a tumor, it grows slowly, reducing the quality of your life and your ability to function. If not addressed, it can eventually kill you.

Related to this, another word that could describe sadness is melancholy. It has a sad ring to it, capturing the depth and forlorn nature of this feeling.

Divorce

I met my future husband on the first day of my freshman year of high school. I was 14 and quickly fell for the gawky-but-cute older boy a few seats away in choir. He was 16 and a junior that year. We became best friends, and soon he realized I had much deeper feelings for him, leading us to become more than friends. We married at 18 and 20, respectively, attended college together, and waited 10 years to have our daughter (age 10) and our son (age 8).

After nearly 21 years of marriage, my best friend entered the process of divorcing me. He no longer believes in God, which is the foundation of my life, and he feels that this divergence of beliefs puts us on two very different paths. I, on the other hand, have multiple sclerosis, a chronic progressive neurological disease, and he no longer wants to be burdened with the ongoing medical bills associated with this condition. At 41, he has discovered the joy of barhopping and the attention of other women, prioritizing his time at the gym over family time.

The divorce will likely be final in 60 to 90 days, and life goes on. However, I am losing my best friend, life partner, and confidante, the father of my children. I have to tell him first when something momentous happens, hold his hand and kiss him goodnight, and laugh with him. I am also losing the person I rely on to preserve family memories, the person who knows me best, and the person I measure myself against. I am holding my children's broken hearts together as best as I can and often fail.

I am relying on my faith, family, and friends to support us during this painful process, but no one outside of a marriage can live this experience. I simply have to go through it one step, one moment, one day at a time, praying for peace, solace, and sanity. Divorce is a unique kind of brokenness that, unfortunately, is a common experience for many. However, for those who go through it, especially when there are children involved, it is truly deeply uncommonly sad.

Divorce epitomizes the concept of sadness for me.