1000 ferris wheels

I once read that about people who make and fold 1000 origami paper cranes.  Some do it for luck or longevity or luck or wishes or hope.  Some do it for love.  Some do it for peace.  I assume some do it for the same reason I make ferris wheels.

I make them over and over again, from tiny kits that arrive in small envelopes whenever things get difficult.

bloggesswheel

I turn the small metal tabs in.  I fit the speck-like tabs into the delicate, almost invisible slots.  I place 100 tiny metal pieces -like forgotten shavings- together to make each car, each strut.  It’s comforting to me when I need comfort most.  When life gets too large.  When the world is too loud.  When my skin is to raw and sensitive to be touched.  It’s then that I go into this tiny world I have perfect control over.

The work is both challenging and mindless.  I close a tiny door.  I add a hanging car.  I straighten a spindle.  I imagine myself in this little world, an invisible guest on this fragile and exquisitely imperfect wheel.  It does not spin exactly but the cars gently sway.  One car breaks loose and plummets to the floor.  I find it, a minute later, hidden in the seam of the tile and I rescue it and return it to it’s place, giving the metal tab an extra twist with my tweezers and holding my mouth just so as if I am casting a spell.

Stay put, I command in my head.  You are where you belong.  To everything there is a place.

And I line the pieces up into their places.  I make them right.  I make them fit.  I put things the way they are meant to be, even if only in a tiny world that rests in the palm of my hand.

In the morning I show my daughter the shiny metal ferris wheel.  She oohs and ahs and rocks the small cars, probably imagining real ferris wheels she will ride one day when she is grown.

I lay the tiny wheel down, my invisible anxieties and worries sitting calmly on each seat.  I say a prayer to keep each worry in its place.  To glue it there.  One for “fear of going under water.”  One for “one day she’ll leave me”.  One for “I’ve forgotten something important that I can’t remember”.  One for “paralyzed with doubts”.  One for “broken”.  And those small passengers all sit in silence, quieted at last, as I place the wheel with all the others.  And there it will stay while I take up life again.  Until, that is, the next week when I can’t think for all the worries and anxieties and angry voices screaming in my head.  And then I will place last week’s empty ferris wheel on a sidewalk  or tree branch for a small child to find, and I will open the thin envelope in my desk drawer and slip out the new metal sheets waiting to be cut and folded and pinned and pressed into life.  Into fear.  Into both.

And the wheel comes around again.

ferris bloggess

Note: I know many of you have noticed I’m not quite myself this month.  I’m fine…just crawling out of a depression that has taken more out of me than usual.  I’m coming back, but slowly.  Thank you for being patient.  Thank you for being you.

 

449 thoughts on “1000 ferris wheels

Read comments below or add one.

  1. This is beautiful, Jenny. I’m sorry you aren’t in a good place but glad to hear you are finding your way out. And I love the idea of leaving those lovely ferris wheels for people to find. You’re a good egg.

  2. They are beautiful Jenny as are you. I hope you continue to emerge out of this bout of depression stronger. Take care hugs

  3. My goodness. That is just beautiful, and quite wise. I’m really sorry to hear you’re dealing with a time of depression – I have way too much experience in that area, so I have a pretty good idea what you might be going thorugh. Hoping for improvement, health, and peace for you. -Amy

  4. take your time, will be here when you get back!

  5. I love them.

    My place like that is my garden. I go outside and weed, and my world shrinks down to just the 4 x 4 patch of dirt I’m sitting on, pulling weeds, and I think of how all the things on that dirt are mine to maintain, and I can forget everything about the rest of the crazy out there for a little while.

  6. Sometimes the best thing for me is to come here and know that I’m not alone. Tough day today.

  7. I think they’re swell. And all those tiny, tiny passengers on the tiny ferris wheel that someone finds hidden on a branch start to feel very happy because of you.

  8. You may have just given me a solution to the obsessive-compulsive tendencies that flare up around my anxiety, and I cannot thank you enough for that.

  9. I make little paper stars. I like the rhythm of cutting, folding and shaping the strips of paper into perfect little stars. People keep asking me why I make them, and I don’t know how to explain that they keep my brain quiet. For a few minutes each day, I’m really, really happy. I’m not evaluating myself for where I am (or should be) in my life. There is no criticism, no fear. Just brightly colored paper stars. No matter what new kind of crazy is going on outside (or inside my head), I can still make something pretty.

    I feel you. Please keep making ferris wheels. They and you are awesome.

  10. How beautiful, tiny and delicate! Funny how we sometimes forget that we are the architects of so much in this life, just as you are of the Ferris Wheels and the happiness they bring.

  11. I have made thousands of cranes. You are exactly right about why. Not only do I share the cranes but also the making of the cranes can be shared with those who need to make the cranes.

  12. I disappear into a book on my kindle. For two hours, cover to cover, I’m not here. This is a beautiful piece of Jenny on the page. Thank you for being you.

  13. So beautiful, and yes, so therapeutic. I do that with my gardening. When the voices are too loud, there are too many things that must be done NOW NOW NOW, I go outside and I weed, I prune, I listen to the birds and look for grasshoppers and lizards and clouds, I get dirt under my nails and fresh air in my soul. Fresh air, sunshine, healing thoughts and hugs to you.

  14. My father used to like building model ships. I thought it was boring, but now I can see that he was probably doing it for much the same reason you enjoy making things with your hands.

  15. You people here are the best. Thank you, Jenny, for the Ferris Wheels and Caroline for the stars. I love picturing you at peace, happy, calm, making these things that give you relief from the nasties.

  16. Love those kits and have several. Just afraid they will break or bend when I try to cut them apart. So glad you are able to actually get them to become what they should be. Little metal magic pieces. sends hugs

  17. I draw and the method I value the most is pencil on paper. There is just something in the way pencil moves on paper (different pencils on different papers) that makes me feel just right.

  18. We’re here before, during, and after sweetie! Wishing your heart much love and peace!

  19. To me, that was one of your most beautiful posts. You hang in there. It will get better. One piece at a time. 🙂

  20. A beautiful essay and picture. Thank you for sharing them with us.

    Thank you, also, for remembering and reminding us that depression lies.

    Take gentle care. <3

  21. I have a studio. Going in there, banging and clanging and drilling and stitching ugly things together with wire to make them into something pretty sorts my innards.

    Peace to you, lovely.

  22. Where do you get those ferris wheel kits? I’m thankful I don’t suffer from depression but they might teach me some patience!

    (The link in the post takes you to Amazon but you can also get them from Barnes & Noble and model shops and comic stores. ~ Jenny)

  23. My heart just dropped a bit. Take care of yourself and kick that depression right out of there. I can take it from you for a while, if you need.

  24. I think you are lovely. Yes, even when you don’t feel like yourself. I do not feel like the same self most days, and do not expect it of myself.

    A couple of years ago my family doctor gave me this advice, and I think it would be great advice for you, too: Stop apologizing for who you are. Who you are is magnificent.

  25. We all have our things Jenny. Your’s is so beautiful. Hope you climb back to the surface soon, I’m making my way there too.

  26. This made me get all teary eyed. Not just the beauty of having a self soothing mechanism that works for you, but for the thought of someone finding one of these little Ferris Wheels and the way that would change their day. A smile. A bit of wonder. Maybe an idea for a story to write that will then make someone else smile? Lovely.

  27. I edit photos when I’m in the place you are in. We do the best we can whilst shambling along, don’t we? Keep humaning the best you can 🙂

  28. I crochet, like my mother did. Hooking and looping and pulling my worries into a soft blanket to wrap myself in on a dark night. I hope you feel better soon.

  29. God, I love you. I love your sailor-swearing, taxidermy-squirmy self, but I also love this you, Jenny. From 58 year old mother/grandmotherly me to you…sending so much love and appreciation. You belong here…lest you wonder. You do, you do, you do. You so do.

  30. I wish I had someplace to go. Someone to talk to. A friend.

    (You are special. We’re listening. ~ Jenny)

  31. Your Ferris wheels are lovely! For me it is knitting, or picking out my horses’ stalls – things that need concentration so don’t allow me to fixate on the things that make me crazy or sad. I’m pretty sure idle hands turn my mind into the devil’s playground.

  32. Oh Jenny, that you leave them for children to find is so magical. Just imagine the child finding this and seeing visions of tiny, faerie carnivals! <3

  33. We aren’t going anywhere. I hope you find your way soon. Also, I LOVE the ferris wheels! LOVE!

  34. I love the idea of placing your worries on the seats. I’ve been making bracelets myself. Mindfully mindless hobby. It helps.

  35. This is beautiful… An unbelievably beautiful response to something one can’t control. I realize that depression and anxiety are hard to get a handle on, but building ferris wheels is an incredible way to meet the challenge head on. I tend to hide in my bed and hide, but maybe I should build ferris wheels too. My OCD worrying can leave me fetal sometimes, and I need to focus it outwards at those moments, because otherwise I can’t even breathe, and doing something detail oriented is helpful. Puzzles have usually been my go-to, but I can appreciate ferris wheels. Know this Jenny, an intellect and heart like yours is a gift to all of us, and we are better for it

  36. I feel like I need this. My life feels out of control right now. I’m being sued for my psych bill, which is $500 I can’t afford right now because I was let go from the job that required me to have a weekly psychologist visit. Incidentally, this is causing me anxiety attacks which is why I was required to see a shrink in the first place. I need a tiny shred of control. Or a million dollars. Possibly both.

  37. I love them. Sometimes even a tiny bit of control over a tiny piece of the world can do us good. I’m sending you hugs, and a promise that your tribe will be here for you when you are strong enough to venture out again.

  38. My sibling made 1000 cranes during a time when I thought they were for one thing (a serious illness) but were probably for another thing altogether (depression, anxiety). This was hard to read in the way that I feel that I learned more about the pain that was, in all likelihood, being dealt with. But it was also good to read in the way that I feel I am a little better able to understand another thing about their journey. Thank you for sharing.

  39. I’m sorry this is a difficult time for you. It has me thinking about what I could do next time I stumble into a mental hole, so thanks for that. Even more, how beautiful that you give them away like that. You are a gentle and wise soul.

  40. This is a beautiful post, full of hope, honesty, and a touch of whimsy. May the coming days be easier to wake up to and full of joy and the return of laughter.

  41. Love that you have found something that helps you in these times of depression. I think it is wonderful that you share this part of you so freely. Helping so many people that feel the same way.

  42. Every month, around the same time, a darkness comes over me. I know, logically, that it is all in my head. That it is a chemical imbalance. That, this too, shall pass. Lately though, it’s harder to come out. Ever since we made the decision to try for a baby and every month it proves fruitless. It’s hard, and it sucks, and it hurts.

    My hurts are not your hurts, but yet, they are hurts all the same. I am glad you are coming back. I am just entering mine, so, my friend, I will see you through on the other side. <3

  43. My 5th graders & I made 1000 paper cranes for our friend Collin Zimmer who was diagnosed with cancer shortly before his 11th birthday & hung them from the ceiling in our school. As we made them, we prayed & wished him well. Our wishes lasted almost 2 years & then we lost him. The making of things with our hands seems to be very therapeutic & allows us to find our way when life is hard & it’s hard to find the words. I love the Ferris wheels & the safety they provide for you. Thank you for sharing them with us.

  44. Similarly – I paint
    I pick a canvas, and play with color and end up painting it a solid color, whichever speaks to me and i think and paint and paint and it brings me peace

  45. I always find such comfort in reading your blog, it helps me to see that the thoughts that consume me are not mine alone. You understand the fear that comes with your children growing and leaving someday, with wondering if you really are good enough. I deal with these same feelings and while my husband calls it eternal premature empty nesting, he tries to understand. You make me feel like someone hears and really understands what I am feeling. Thank you Jenny. You save me again and again.

  46. I love this. Freud posited that sublimation is the most desirable defense mechanism, but creating something lovely and leaving it for a child kicks it up a notch. I was going through a funk when my husband and son were out of town for a boys’ weekend, and spent the time reconstructing all of my child’s destroyed Lego sets. All of them. It just sort of happened. But I adored his face when they came home and he saw the magical wee village on his train table. Time well spent.

  47. I wish you’d let us fill your head with our thoughts for a month or a week. You’d see a totally different viewpoint and place and you could relax and laugh and maybe dance a little around the kitchen. The people who post here slay me with their sense of humour and deep compassion. I want to live next door to all of you.

  48. Been to the bottom, come back to the light. It is a terrible journey. Congratulations for coming back.

  49. You know how the phrase “Bless your little heart” can be said in a snarky way in the South? But it can also be said in a sincere, caring way. The latter way is what I thought of when I read this. I know the feeling of depression all too well which is why I’m so glad you’re constantly repeating the phrase, “Depression Lies”. It’s a great mantra to have. Feel better dear one…

  50. I hope those who find the Ferris wheels treasure them, just as you are treasured.

  51. To me, you are brave and brilliant. You have shared so much and helped so many. And you are sparklingly funny. Thank you a million times for your 1,000 Ferris wheels.

  52. I have no words. Just sending you love, hope and if the interweb wasn’t such a difficult wench, wine slushes. <3 <3

    I find strength in you. I find strength in your writing. Thank you for being you.

  53. I fold paper cranes, it helps me relax, and on days when my brain doesn’t seem to want to work, gives me something I can still do. We hang them from the ceiling and watch them fly in the breeze created by a fan.

  54. Now THIS is perfection. This is what we all need when life gets too big. I hope some day I can find MY tiny ferris wheel, a perfect task that lets the worries melt away and reminds me what it feels like to fly over and over again.

  55. I love that you put them out in the world to bring joy to someone else. I mean it is practical but also beautiful.

    super squishy hugs Thanks for being you and sharing these things that help me feel like it isn’t “just me” I think maybe I need a seat for all the anxieties and mean thoughts in my head to put them away some days too.

    There’s more my brain wants to say but just won’t articulate it for me right now. So I’ll just stick with thank you, you are loved!

  56. I do this with lots of things. Clay, painting on wood, making fairy houses/gardens, creating trees out of wire and stones, but lately it’s been jewelry. I just sit and make necklaces and earrings and bracelets, and in the moments I am so focused on making them just so, my brain is finally quiet.

    Also, your last post, about things that make you go YES!! That! That thing exactly! Inside Out… I went to see it, and It was one of those things.

  57. I’m sorry you have had to spend so much time in that deep dark place we go when we’re not alright. I hope you can at least hear us when your there and know that we are patiently waiting here for you on the others side. Some of us are in there with you, I use to spend time with flowers they helped me hang on and the we’re amazing. Recently the neighbor kids at my apartment building decided to smash them. I didn’t realize how much I needed those flowers until they were gone. I have been a single mom of seven kids for 20 years, I am trying to save money to move us al back to colorado to be with my older daughter and the grandkids Josh my grandson was my flower buddy. Its tuff to find the way out of the hole some days and some months. Bless you for all you do. Lori

  58. I have a passionate love of these models. I can’t buy them very often, but I’ve made about a half dozen, some to keep, some to give away. It’s meditative, building tiny little ships, being oh so very careful not to bend the rigging when popping them out of the sheets. If I had the money I would do just what you do, tucking them into people’s gardens, on library shelves, in random places at child-eye level.

  59. Those are lovely – the Ferris wheels and the words you’ve used to describe how they help you.

    We just stumbled on these last month, the little metal build-a-thing kits. We gave one to our nephew. He took so much time to build his ship and he got frustrated when it didn’t work just right, but he didn’t quit and he finished it all by himself. He’s asked for more. I think he’s doing the same thing you are – building, concentrating, following the directions in order to sustain some quiet stillness.

    Even better? If these tiny sculptures ever become an anathema, ever become a painful reminder of some sort instead of a collection of struggling, strengthful moments, you can put them all out and Godzilla the hell out of them then start over with new ones.

  60. I hate that you feel broken. The only time I think we should use broken is when there is an actual physical break. Hope you’re not really broken. 🙂 But whatever it is that’s hurting, I wish you could put a cast on it, we could all sign it with glitter pens and then the worst would be that you would itch like crazy for a few weeks.

  61. This may be the most beautiful thing I have ever read. Your description of the process of building the wheel is so calming. I wish you tranquility.

  62. I love this. Would you ever consider selling one? It seems like they are full of symbolism and positive energy.

    (It would feel weird to sell them since I love doing them but I’ll probably have them on tour with me and hide them around bookstores when I’m there. ~ Jenny)

  63. Beautiful writing Jenny. I think everyone who goes through the struggles we go through has their own version of this. I color. I get lost in the colors and the lines and the simplicity of a time that gotten taken from me much too quickly. We all need that, and I love your ferris wheels. Hugs Jenny.

  64. This. I love this. So beautifully written. Thank you for sharing yourself with the world. I adore your blog and your perspective on life, I’ve been a fan for a while now.

    I’m going to leave you with this quote, I don’t know the attribution but I love the sentiment.

    “You’re not broken,
    you are hurt.
    You don’t need to be fixed,
    you need to be loved.”

    Thank you again for all that you do. The world is a better place because you are in it. 🙂

  65. I saw those Ferris wheels at B&N a month ago, and thought of you. I nearly bought one, until I was distracted by the realistic snowy owl puppet whose head turned all the way around, and then by the talking mini Tardis and in the end somehow we wound up with a Firefly Board Game that we don’t have time to set up much play and… yeah… Geeks-of-a-Feather-Freak-Out-Together.

    And yet, the Ferris Wheel keeps turning, the owl puppet spins its head, and a new season of Doctor Who starts, and life goes on.

  66. I like building and tearing apart lego kits. They feel much less fragile when you’re assembling them and I don’t spend all my time worrying about breaking something. I bought Benny’s Spaceship Spaceship Spaceship from the Lego Movie and I’ve built it and torn it apart at least a dozen times.

  67. I hope that your journey out goes swiftly for you- but what a wonderful coping mechanism until it does. The idea of finding order and a place to store your worries, each in their own place is very appealing. Your ability to deal creatively with the challenges you face never ceases to amaze me- even in the hole, you are more positive than many people ever are! Never forget that we are all here appreciating you, wanting the best for you and loving you hard! Take heart- sending you hugs and comfort and joy.

  68. You are a supremely beautiful person Jenny, inside and out. Know how deeply you’re loved as the darkness in your brain is slowly conquered by the light.

  69. That’s a beautiful piece of writing. I know it’s hard to believe right now, but you’re wonderful, talented, and healthier than you think. You give me hope when I’m floundering, so it’s only fair that I offer the same to you. You are a beautiful person, and I look up to you, even when you’re down. Peace, and I hope the ladder is short this time, enabling you to climb out swiftly.

  70. I love this. I especially love that when you finish one, you leave it for someone else to find. No apologies needed for not quite being yourself. I’m sure you’d be yourself if you could. Just keep making those Ferris wheels and stick around, please. You are loved. you are not alone.

  71. do you need tools to build these? i see the listing shows a set of three by the same company but they have rubber handles and i have a latex allergy. what do you use?

  72. The depression and fear are running strong and hard for me right now too. There are days, weeks, when I can’t even get out of my bed. I find strange comfort in vacuuming, watching the messy stuff disappear and overriding the carpets with clean lines. I’ve also started drawing on my sliding glass patio door in my bedroom. The afternoon sun makes it sparkle like stained glass.

    So much love to you Jenny, and to everyone who’s hurting and to those who are helping. ❤️❤️

  73. I’m finally crawling out of a depression too, a longer one than usual this time but I’m handling it. I’ve gotten into the adult coloring books, it’s really soothing but my hand can’t take it for long, I’m developing arthritis in my writing hand.

  74. Your ferris wheels are beautiful, as are you. Thank you for being you and for sharing yourself with us. You are not alone. We are not alone. You’ve helped me (and I’d imagine countless others) more than you’ll ever know. Soon the clouds will have passed and you’ll feel the warm sun on your face.

  75. I get a similar sense of calm working with Perler beads. When the world seems to be taking its toll on me and the demands, coming in from all sides, threaten to overwhelm me, I can find an image online, start putting the beads on the peg tray, and make something to express my geekiness. Perhaps a Mario power up or a Harry Potter figure or a tiny ninja or just some Autism awareness puzzle pieces to turn into pins. It’s relaxing and helps me focus my mind on something other than the problems that crowd my brain so much.

  76. I need a ritual like that. So much more inspiring and positive than staring at the tv trying not to think. I’ll choose tiny carousels instead. All of the fun of imagining myself in the tiny, perfect and controlled world with none of the terror of heights breaking in to destroy the fantasy.

  77. On this turning wheel of dreams, is anything as it seems? Rising above, or drawing near, departing hope or approaching fear. Sometimes I just wish it would stop,
    but, oh the view from the top!

    Rising to fall
    falling to rise
    around and around

    leaving the earth
    touching the skies
    around and around once more

    I understand, I collect and paint fantasy miniatures (28 mm tall elves and dwarves, and knights and wizards, oh and dragons, lot of dragons) It is a great thing to focus, to craft, to create even imperfectly, when the world gets to be just too much. Also, I sometimes write bad poetry.

  78. Jenny, that is beautiful. Every single part of it. The making of teeny beautiful ferris wheels- I never thought of such a thing. The patience and focus to put it together, but an entirely different kind of patience and focus and slowing down of the mind to take the time to write all those words in such an evocotive way, meticulous but personal and so very REAL.

    The truth of you is beauty. The truth of you is an abundance of love and caring. The truth of you is a raw deep honesty. The truth of you is the wisdom to see when to turn to humor, when to get deep.

    You have a great value, in yourself, to your daughter, to your husband, to every friend and family member, and to all of us out here that you generously share a bit of yourself with.

    Thank you for taking the time and making the effort. I am sorry for your struggles. I hope you get what you need. Just know you hold great meaning to the world and you are loved!

  79. Jenny, People are (rightly so) saying lovely things to you to show you how important you are to this world and touched they are by your honesty and sincerity and personal struggles (that you so generously share with everyone). I want to comment on the beautiful language you have here, though. As a piece of writing this is so much more than the content (although it’s very important on that level, of course. Very important.) You are SUCH a gifted writer and this reads lyrically, with the motion communicated through your words. I teach writing and write, myself, and I am in awesome of your talent and skill…and this piece, this piece is a thing of magic. Thank you.

  80. What a great, meditative action. I love those Metal Earth things. I’m totally gonna go order some and keep them handy.

  81. Thank you for being you. Your courage and your daughter’s courage give me hope. Hope for you, for her, for me, for my dear friends. I am worthwhile and so are you.

  82. This post is poetic in its beauty. You are loved by so many and we all wish we could give you a great big hug and make it go away. You inspire me. I suffer many of the same issues as you, and there are days that it is very difficult to get out of bed. I like to come here for inspiration when that happens. So thank you.

    Now I’m off to but me some little ferris wheels….

  83. And this is when my drawings get intricate and detailed and I have to buy more pens because the ink seems to dry up so quick because the hours, really, are just counting breaths.
    <3

  84. You give so much love and light and hope and laughter to all of us. I hope you can feel all that we send back to you.

  85. I am so very sorry. I understand, a little. I both hate and love the dark place. I agonize when I’m there – feel like I can never find the exit but it informs my art, my humor and my chocolate jones. If it comforts you at all, your humor is the bright neon exit sign for others in the dark place. Your ferris wheel is humbling – as is your humor. Curl up, binge some Netflix, reflect and keep folding until you feel your fingers again. And then unfold yourself and turn your face to the sun – when you’re ready. We are all here for you.

  86. Love you for being you and sharing with us, you make us all stronger as you make yourself! (hope that makes sense) keep on being you!

  87. Thank you for this. Thank you. I am still in my pit. I’m so tired of trying to climb out, thank God breathing is involuntary. After an abusive and marriage which included adultery that I got out of (finally) 4 years ago. And 2 more broken hearts, one I’m thankful happened because he turned out to be a jerk. The 2nd one (which landed me in said pit) I still don’t underatand. My child still misses him too. Cancelled wedding and hopes and dreams I can’t seem to get past. I’m careful with my heart, and even more careful with feeling hope. But I felt hopeful and sure, and he got cold feet. No amount of positive thinking, positive lists, telling myself all that I’m blessed and thankful for seem to lighten up the heavy weight laying on me. Sometimes being numb is better than feeling. I have never let a man affect me like this, but he was no ordinary man, we were no ordinary couple. And rejection over and over becomes exhausting. Reminding yourself that it’s their loss is monotonous. I hate being THAT woman, one who let a man break her. But I sure didn’t mean to be. I’ve always been a phoenix, I can’t help but wonder if enough is enough and my fire has gone out. I live for my child, and she doesn’t see this side of mommy. I need to find my “Ferris wheel”. I’m glad you’re coming out of your pit.

  88. This was so deep.”Stay put, I command in my head. You are where you belong. To everything there is a place.” I know when you share you are just being you, but it helps me just be me too.

  89. I fold paper cranes and release them out into the wild, too, for someone to find and to brighten somebody’s day.

  90. We will all be here waiting for you when you get back. We are all confident that you WILL be back. When the world gets to be too much, I make cards. Stamped, embossed, embellished, iris – folded cards. Picking the colors and the paper and the gizmos is very restful. Sometimes I even give them to people. Thanks for sharing your marvelous little ferris wheels. I may have to make a card out of one…

  91. I call those kind of activities “finding my zen”. Lots of things can do it for me: coloring, weeding, or meticulously hosing down the driveway, many things. Something to do with my hands that requires my attention, but not my brain if that makes sense. I can kind of shut down and reboot.

  92. I almost cried reading “one day she’ll leave me” actually scratch that crying now. I’m so fixated on that right now. Mine has a birthday coming up soon, she’s getting so big, we wear the same size socks and we can share some clothes, some things she’s one size behind. I’m not ready, and I really should have picked up the little metal Star Wars sculpture packs when I was in line at AC Moore. I want to try this but I haven’t seen the ferris wheels, but I suppose maybe another shape could work for me. Or maybe I need to find my own thing. Sorry I’ve been having a rough week.

  93. Oh, Jenny. I feel so much love for you right now. Thank you for being who you are, and for sharing this.

  94. We will always be here for you, when you are ready to be with us. #depressionlies. #wewillwait

  95. such a strong and relevant metaphor for dealing with anxiety and depression. I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough go of things lately, but I’m glad to hear your slowly making your way back. I’m wishing you well.

  96. Jenny and the Tribe:
    You are good. You are brave. You are loved.
    You remind me of this when I can’t remember it for myself.
    💗

  97. Don’t forget that depression lies. Little tiny ferris wheels don’t. I’m glad you’re starting to come out of it. I know and appreciate that feeling.

  98. What a wonderful way to keep at bay the worries that plague you (and me). When nothing seems to make you feel safe enough or protected from the pain that can snatch away happiness at a moment’s notice. Having something to take you out of your own head and then using it to make a complete stranger happy. There’s something poetic about that.

  99. As always, thank you so much for honestly sharing your struggles with us. I am having a pretty crappy month myself, and you continue to remind me that I am not the only one. This is a beautiful community you have created and I gave come to rely on it for strength and inspiration.

  100. You are so wonderful, my Bloggess. It is a beautiful act of creation, and I am so glad it brings you peace, even briefly. The ferris wheels are lovely, and more so because they move and sway. Strength to you as you feel your way back to us.

  101. Very cool Ferris wheels. I don’t think I could have the patience to work on those but I also lack the patience to open a bag of Cheetos.

    Hope you feel better soon.

  102. What you wrote is beautiful. What you do is beautiful. I’ve recently written a novel about people who work with small things–watches, miniatures–for the same reason. It’s with my agent right now. Fingers crossed she likes it. If I ever get it published, I will send you a copy.

  103. I didn’t even know that was a thing, to create tiny little ferris wheels. And I love that you leave those little magic wonders for a child to stumble upon somewhere…so sweet.

  104. I really really really love these tiny Ferris wheels. I’m sorry you’re in a place where making them seems necessary, but I’m glad they exist and they comfort. I’m not sure why this post, of all your amazing, rediculous, stop writing what’s in my brain! posts made me tear up, but it did. Please be safe, and know you are loved. Xoxo

  105. I love your tradition. Here it’s been very rainy, so even though it’s summer, a lot of people are experiencing “winter blues” symptoms. I know I’m dealing with it and not doing a good job of it. I hope you continue to come out of it. We’ll be here when you do!

  106. This is so, so lovely. As you’ve said (and I listen) depression lies. There are many of us out here, listening to you (and talking back, though you can’t hear us). imagine us lining up for the ferris wheels so we can swing at the top, smiling.

  107. I love your tiny ferris wheels! When life gets too big I don’t have any creative impulses – not positive ones anyway – but my thing is to go outside and just walk. A new track, a different neighbourhood, instead of turning around when I reach the rocks at the end of the beach I’ll climb over them… The physical activity soothes me while discovering new paths seems to ward off the apathy. Also, when I’m surrounded by the vastness of nature, like a speck on the edge of a massive ocean, I’m the one who is tiny, and my little worries become insignificant.

  108. This is a lovely post.

    I’m also one of those who enjoys the adult (adult in difficulty, not in themes, although they make those, too!) coloring books. I find them awfully soothing, especially the books with the very tiny patterns.

  109. Thinking of trying this… Maybe it will help me too….thx for sharing what you feel.. It helps

  110. What an excellent strategy to help overcome your anxieties. A beautiful metaphoric release! I’ll have to suggest that to some of my students (I teach high school special education, including a few with emotional disabilities).

    Keep on, keeping on, my love. You are in my prayers! 💜

  111. I sort Nerds. I buy a big box of multicolored Nerds candy and then I sort them by color into little boxes. It’s very soothing to restore order to chaos on such a small manageable scale. But I like the ferris wheels. Where do you get them?

  112. I crochet. My world shrinks down to each stitch, each row. People say it can’t be relaxing because I look so angry as I do it. But each bad feeling I have, the anger, the sadness, goes into each stitch. In the end, each ugly feeling is transformed into a beautiful blanket, or toy, or doily.

  113. What beautiful little creations. I know if I had found such a gift as a child I would still have it today. Glad you are on the mend. 🙂

  114. Your ferris wheels are neato, like you. Ferris wheels are full of light and laughter (and well, ok, screams, but there’s laughter in those screams too!). thank you for your light. Your laughter. And the screams that sometimes come out. hugs.

  115. When I am overwhelmed, I ride a horse. Someone once said the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man – or in this case a woman. Their hearts beat their energy into ours, their eyes see into our very souls, their velvety breath soothes our frantic thoughts. It’s like a drug in some ways. I get to the barn feeling all wrong inside and after spending some quiet time grooming him, then saddling up and walking to the ring, I clamber on (see, it’s not a fluid graceful thing for me, my aging out-of-shape body just rebels some days), and for an hour I fly, well, sort of, and everything is forgotten except for the freedom of my connection to an amazing animal who only wants to please me – mostly, except for the days when we’re not talking! Today we talked!

  116. Depression is a lying bitch–Jenny Lawson

    Welcome back. The crawl out is so very hard.

  117. Is it strange that I feel the same way about you being in a funk as I would a family member? Love you, Jenny.

  118. Earrings… I make earrings. Jingle bell earrings is my favorite. The little jingle sound helps me. I bet we all do something to center ourselves….. Hugs and prayers.

  119. It’s been a difficult week all around. We had to put our 16 year old pug down. We loved our little buddy. I’ve been crybaby’ing all week. Hang in there Jenny. Life sucks sometimes, but this is life! And we get to live it. Good times and bad times. Just keep living. You are not broken. You. Are. You. And we love you.

  120. Thank you for being you. Maybe one day I’ll be able to be me. (…not just the happy nice me but ya know a whole person.)

  121. Please take care of yourself. Not only for your family and for us, but for you. You are magic and I need you! Hugs!

  122. You have brought so much relief and okayness to thousands by sharing yourself. I pray that relief and assurance is returned to you now. xoxo

  123. what a beautiful thing to do. When I am overwhelmed I go and hide in the woods. I leave my worries behind each tree.

  124. Jenny,

    If you haven’t yet, read Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes with your beautiful smart daughter.

    http://www.amazon.com/Sadako-Thousand-Cranes-Puffin-Classics/dp/0142401137/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1435708066&sr=8-2&keywords=sadako+and+the

    Peace and much much love to you. Your writing makes me laugh, it makes me cry, and it help me remember that I am not the only one who struggles with AND finds ways to throw some light into the darkness of depression.

    Suzie

  125. Jenny,
    Being a mom and mentally ill is hard. My daughter finally became a “victim of my instability.” After my last suicide attempt in February, she decided she needed to save herself. She lives seven minutes from me, but it might as well be another galaxy. There is no communication at all. God, it is hard! She dealt with me for 36 years and I made the last 10 hell. Everyday, sometimes every minute, I tell myself “don’t let the triggers shoot you.” Don’t let the depression win! Thank you for being here for me. You help!

  126. I have been in this place, and the only comfort I have found is that despite what my broken mind is telling me, it will get better.
    I am blessed in that my depression is uncomplicated. No anxiety or fear, just crushing mindless despair…. for no reason. All I want to do is escape….but I put one foot in front of the other and ignore it. I do it for my wife and children, and hope they understand the change and accept that they are not to blame.
    Reading this makes me want to use my depression to accomplish something as beautiful as you have written here Jenny. Thanks 🙂

  127. Thanks for turning your pain into these beautiful, inspiring words
    Love, hugs, peace

  128. Sending you big hugs and holding a space for you until you come out on the other side. I know what it’s like to not be okay, but still be okay. xoxo

  129. My reactions: what a lovely meditation these are. Also–of course you’re coming out of a depression. Nothing like a big bout of fame to throw a person into a slump. All the stress of it. And the feeling that you should be on top of the world since everything is going so well. There is nothing like good fortune to make you feel bad for not feeling good. Take care.

  130. Those are awesome. I collect all kinds of spiritual charms and pendants and make necklaces. I don’t really believe in any religion but love certain aspects of most of them. I don’t know what it is…but focusing on tiny things that require tweezers is very therapeutic. I like your idea of just leaving them places and am going to try that. I love your writing….and although I’m sorry you struggle, I am so grateful you share your struggle so honestly. http://damselindepression.com/free-handmade-necklace-anyone/

  131. This was a beautiful post. What a wonderful way to deal with things. I need to find my version of that. Thanks for sharing. We all love you and hope you are coming out of your depression. It’s kind of like a Ferris wheel anyway. For me it is, it goes in circles. There have been a lot of shitty things happening in the world and then lately some very good things. I’m especially proud of America right now and the good things that are happening. Still, I’ve been battling as well. Going to see a doctor tomorrow to discuss meds. I sure appreciate having you here as a friend and a fellow soldier in the war of Anxiety and depression which we fight daily. Much love and thanks, S

  132. Jenny, we love you. Take your time we will wait. And it brings me joy when I think of the wonder and excitement of a child who finds part of what must be the fairy carnival.

  133. This is such a beautiful piece of writing – and reality. Wrapping my arms around you and visualizing peace creeping in like a quiet fog. TY for giving a voice to depression and anxiety – so many people are better all because of your bravery.

  134. Thank you. When my world is crashing down and I need retreat, I find solace in small things, almost invisible things–the way a thread runs through a blanket, for instance, or making a stitch just right, or something so tiny, that takes all my concentration. Sometimes I find it in words, in learning the complexities of another language, but more often I find it in letting my hands be busy, my mind roam over those tiny things.

  135. I am amazed by how so many of us have lost touch with the meaning of life…we need to go back to being ONE TRIBE where we all care for one another….because we are ALL one another….Jenny – hang in there – you have a gift for writing….I have not snickered and snorted that much reading a book EVER!!!!!

  136. I have been reading your blog for over a year now and I love it. What a beautiful way to cope – and to put some random kindness into the world just when you need it. Keep folding.

  137. What everyone else has said. Depression sucks, but you’ve found a great way to work through it. Bask in all the love being sent your way and hang in there!!

  138. Jenny, I have never had the experience of personal depression, but I am so grateful to you for sharing your many stories with the rest of the world. While I am unable to say that I truly understand, I thank you for giving those who do, a person to look to, a person to learn from, a group of people to depend on. Your words help me to better understand where my experience falls short. In this way I can listen better, and hopefully be of more encouragement to the many who do have bouts of depression. Here’s to a better day.

  139. These are wonderful! Thank you for sharing them. Sending you some positive energy for a little extra strength.

  140. You said you had Avoidant Personality Disorder a few weeks ago. I looked it up. It fit me so well, I didn’t have a name before then. Knew it wasn’t straight depression, but thought I was just a freak. Then did some research & first few said drugs don’t work, you need to talk to a therapist. Which is like telling someone who is afraid of heights to just go up to the observation tower of the Empire State Building, and then lean over the edge for a day. Like that would even remotely be possible or work. That got me in a funk I haven’t been able to break out of. But I feel better knowing I’m not a freak, all alone. Knowing at least one other is out they helps me be kinder to myself just a bit. So you did that this month. Good job.

  141. Jenny,
    This is singularly the most beautiful post you have ever written. thank you for always being so raw and honest with us. We are lucky to have you.

  142. I got one of those soda cardboard flats with the raised edge to work on mine. That way when I drop a piece it stays in the box & I don’t have to do a long search. And a magnet on a stick.

  143. Tearing up a little over here. Once again, you’ve managed to put some of the things I can’t quite say into words. Except I don’t make Ferris wheels, I make tiny crocheted cat toys. Keep on keeping on, Jenny. You make the world a brighter place.

  144. I think this is why I hand-piece my quilts. It’s kind of meditative for me, especially during the stressful times. I’m glad you have something that helps you. Hugs!!

  145. Those are amazing and beautiful. Just like you. sorry you aren’t in a good place right now, and thankful you are working your way back, one little wheel at a time.

  146. Depression lies. All fall and winter and into the spring I repeated that to myself. This will end. You will feel better. Depression lies. It’s not your fault. You’re not lazy and useless. All fall and winter and into the spring. Over and over. And now it’s all true. It did lie. It did end. I do feel better. I’m not lazy and useless. And those words? All those words that helped me hold on? I learned them here. So now I send them back to you. True words.

  147. What you’ve written here is very important. Letting us hear your process, giving words to the depths you go…makes me feel less alone.
    Keep pulling yourself out, no matter how slow and hard the work is. You’ve taught us that “depression lies”.
    Thank you.

  148. That is awesome, Jenny. My husband (fellow depression warrior) actually does origami…his favorite thing is to fold baskets out of bills (a $10 or $20) to leave waitresses/waiters tips…he always adds a few coins just to have something to put in the basket.

    Also? She will never leave you. My only daughter went off to college last year…she still came home (for a home cooked meal, for me to do her laundry, to chill and relax since she had never had to live with other girls before and sometimes that got too much for her.)

  149. When the darkness closes in I remind myself that there is a world waiting. Thank you for being a part of that world.

  150. That was a lovely post. We love you and hear you.
    I especially love the idea of them finding their way to some child’s hands. Makes me think of To Kill A Mockingbird, and the special gifts that Boo Radley would leave for the Finch kids in the tree. 🙂

  151. I swear planets must have aligned wrong as everyone I know with a chronic disease including myself is having a rough time. It’s like we all synced our periods (if I had a period anymore). Feel betters chicka. Depression is a liar….

  152. Love the ferris wheel. I hope the world looks brighter for you now. There is something in moving back into the dawn and seeing how clear the world is.

  153. You are not alone. This is one of my darker times of year. It’s so important to be able to find The Quiet, especially when one is in conflict with oneself. So glad you know where your quiet is. We are here. Take all the time you need for self care! xo

  154. That is really beautiful! I am thrilled you found something that helps and that you can display.

    I have a few things that help me. I like to color, really complicated, detailed colring pages and books are available. It is really soothing to just go to that quiet place, where you are in charge, but nothing bad can happen if you chose the wrong color. I also knit, it is socially acceptable and produces something useful. Sometimes, it just gets me into that “zen” state where nothing bad can happen. I find peace.

    Then, I will eat chocolate! It always helps!

    I will keep you in my prayers. You are needed in this world. Be kind to yourself.

  155. Beautiful Jenny, a beautiful thing from feelings so tough. I am sorry for the troubles you are facing right now and I hope you feel relief from them soon.

  156. You will find your happy place eventually. We all do at our own pace. The ferris wheel models are different. I’m terrified of ferris wheels so it wouldn’t be my choice of projects.

  157. I hope things are getting better for you. You’re so inspirational to so many of us, who take comfort in knowing that we’re not alone in our struggle with depression. hugs

  158. Jenny,

    Thank you for always posting the funny and the sad. Helps more than you know. Hope your crawl turns into a run soon.

    Hugs,
    Julie

  159. I don’t know what it is about this month, maybe it’s the fact that I signed my only child up for kindergarten and he starts in the fall, maybe it’s the fact that money is tighter than usual and the costs of getting this child in school is one more and I’m stuck or maybe it’s because it’s been so rainy here and not warm and hopeful, but I can’t seem to crawl out of my pit his month. I know how you feel is all I’m trying to say. Not lay my burdens on someone else. Maybe I need to make something tiny. I know you’ll find your way out, I just hope it comes sooner rather than later for you.

  160. What a beautiful post. I’m glad you have something that comforts you, a routine to soothe away the beast. I’m sorry the dark dragged you under, but so glad you’re finding your way out. I’m on anxiety meds for the first time in my life, they’ve finally kicked in, and I never knew it was so bright out here, so colorful, so alive. I hope you get to this place soon, because even being happy can be boring without you.

  161. Wow, you have the coolest hobby! They look SO COOL.

    I’ve never ordered a little kit like that online, but if I did, I tend to covet these little paper flowers from The Miniature Garden: https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheMiniatureGarden

    It would be pretty cool to end up with a fully stacked tiny garden that never dies :3

  162. Beautifully stated. My therapist says to imagine putting my worries into leaves in a stream and watch them float away. I’m not good at it and that makes me worry more. Blah. Thanks for letting us know you’re OK and that we’re not alone.

  163. A fairy’s wheel. I used to mow after my husband died. And I mowed when my 12 year old son was later going through his suicidal depression years. He still struggles sometimes but he does come out the other side. There is something soothing about the repetitive nature of tasks like that. Good thoughts coming your way. We are here when you are ready.

  164. This is so beautifully expressed that I’ll forgive you for making me cry. Thank you.

  165. Thanks for sharing. I often think of your stories when I’m having a tough time and need a little inspiration.

  166. Jenny, yet again you’ve inspired me. Your bravery to be open and share the reality of where you are helps so many of us, I’m sure. I know that when I come here I will either laugh, or cry, or both…but I will feel! Just having those feels is great, no matter what they are, since so may days I don’t. That and I think I need to find my ferris wheels – the tangible thing I can do or make as a way to cope. Now you’ve got me thinking.. and feeling!

  167. I think you’re amazing and wonderful and I cry often at the things you write. Beautiful, funny, heartbreaking and so so true. I’m so glad I found your blog. Many days it makes me laugh out loud and cry out loud. Thank you for your brutal honesty and wickedly fun sense of humor.

  168. We will be waiting for you with open arms, Jenny. Or if you want, we can come in where you are and wrap our love around you.

  169. Hang in there Jenny. Heh, see what I did there? We live you and are waiting patiently while wishing you light and love.

  170. Jenny, as I was reading these beautifully written words I was imagining myself as a child riding the ‘big’ ferris wheel in Atlantic City over and over each night. Every summer for a month. The days when no worries had yet entered my life or my mind. Hair blowing in the wind. Feeling weightless. The lights sparkling beneath me.

    Thank you for those lovely memories I had almost forgotten. You are bringing those mind experiences to everyone fortunate enough to find one of your treasures.

    Take good care of you on your way. You are precious.

  171. Beautiful and eloquent as always, this brought me to tears. You are a special and stunning person Jenny, thank you for sharing yourself with us xxx

  172. Hope you are soon feeling up to par..I love your honesty and that you can open up to us. That must help on some levels. I know my writing helps me. Hugs, peace and love..

  173. Your writing is so eloquent and beautiful. I saw you building that Ferris wheel. I too understand the depression, I work in my yard or do involved projects to quiet my mind. You aren’t alone in this, you’re shining light on those dark places comforts so many. We’ll be here when you’re ready, no hurry or rush, you need to comfort you. Just know we get it, and are ready to maniacally laugh when you are ready. Blessings.

  174. This is why I love you. Today was a horrible day. Things happened that I can’t begin to comprehend and haven’t yet stopped crying. I want to build a Ferris wheel- a place to hide the hurt. Thank you for sharing and for always continuing the fight for all of us! I needed this now

  175. I live in Chicago, where George Ferris, Jr. built his wheel for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. He was considered a crackpot when he submitted his plans to the committee, but his persistence as a negotiator and brilliance as an engineer paid off. His wheel proved to be safe, withstood gale force winds and lightning, ran flawlessly, and carried 1.4 million passengers by the expo’s end.

    I think your choosing the Ferris wheel to construct is perfect.

  176. You are amazing, and my hero. I know only too well the evilness of depression. You aren’t alone, although I also know that, when in the throes of this monster, you feel nothing but alone. Breathe, take it one minute at a time, and be good to yourself. And know you have thousands who love you. xoxo

  177. Thank you for so eloquently expressing and sharing your thoughts and feelings. This sweet, touching piece brought me to tears. Now every time I see a Ferris wheel I believe I will think of you. Peace and Love to you.

  178. you have an amazing skill in building those… my sister sent me one of those kits of the Tokyo Sky Tree (a big building in Tokyo surprisingly! :P) I tried to make it and got angry and gave up before I broke something! it takes an amazing amount of patience to build one let alone lots of them!

  179. Jenny, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I have (at least) three creative projects inspired by you (that require nothing from you but receiving them), and if I can find the time and mind space to make them reality…Please stick around to receive them. At least one of the projects has been incubating over 3 years. I’m slow. Truly. <3 you.

    Crap, now I’ve raised the expectations…

  180. I love your honesty! I love that you get up to face another day! You are brave, and amazing!! Hugs!

  181. I am glad to hear that things are turning around. I have to say I love this entry. It is beautiful, contemplative, and honest. I personally Zen Doodle and do extreme dot-to-dots. I like the idea of leaving the creation for someone to find. I think I will do this next time I create a doodle.

  182. I was recently involved in a car accident and the mother walked away without 2 of her 3 children, and her husband. I am heartbroken. I cannot imagine their pain. Or yours. Each persons pain is a such a personal journey. I only wish I could help.
    So many pulling for you. You bring so much happiness to the world because you share your stories that we can relate to, pain and sadness that comes in waves, and we know we aren’t alone. Hang in there, we need you.

  183. Dear sweet Jennie – I am so sorry to hear that you are having a hard time emerging from the pit of depression. I wish that there was something I could do for you that could bring you the joy and sense of community that you have brought to me and to so many others. Even your ferris wheel therapy brings joy to those who are lucky enough to find them. Please don’t forget how special, caring, unique, and irreplaceable you are. Please remember that, even though I have never met you, I love you and will pray for you.

  184. The Ferris wheel at Disney’s California Adventure has some fixed cars and some that fly free on rails, sliding down as the wheel reaches the apex. I rode this for the first time not realizing this feature. It is terrifying. You scramble to hold on to the seat as the cage slides out of control and then reaches the end, the cage swinging back and forth. I imagine this is how you feel when you have the need to build your Ferris wheel

    All my best wishes this week and in the future.

  185. Sending lots of love!! Depression sucks, as you know all too well. Glad to see you check in anyway. I know even small things feel like pushing a boulder up a hill.

    I have turned to coloring to help. I use markers and color mandalas in some coloring books for grown-ups that I bought. It’s so therapeutic! Love the Ferris wheels.

  186. I totally understand. Instead of ferris wheels, I piece quilts or put together Lego architecture kits.

  187. Thank you for being you, all of you. You give voice to many afraid to speak. You spiraling through your fear is so incredibly loving, kind, beautiful, and strong. Just like you. ♡♡♡♡♡

  188. You write so eloquently and express so much feeling and emotion without directly talking about it. What strikes me most while reading this post is that, even in your darkest moments when you are repititiously going through patterns to ease your mind and heart, you are still creating something beautiful and meant to bring joy to someone else. You have a true gift, dear Bloggess, for transforming pain and fear and hopelessness into giving and joy and beauty. You’ve done it a million times before with your hysterically funny book that has reminded me countless times that life isn’t meant to be taken so seriously. You do fundraisers and kind things so often. Even your ability to share your depression and allow all of us readers to feel less alone in our own struggles is a gift from you. im so happy to hear you’re emerging from the darkness. I wish you bright days and thank you for all the light you’ve given to us just by being you!

  189. The good news is that every day you get up, every day you take care of your child and husband and you get through another day, sometimes barely but you do it. People are cruel, the sun will rise, water is wet…these are things I know for certain. Even though I don’t know you, I kind of feel like you know me in the sense that a lot of what you say is the way I feel about the same situations. The people that seem to think you “owe” them something because you did this for that guy or that for the other guy… are assholes! They have no right what so ever to ask (aka – expect) anything from you and you don’t need to feel bad for saying “NO” to them. The only person that you owe anything to is yourself and you’re family, as long as you keep getting up every day, that’s good enough.
    Try to keep your head above water, you’ll be okay

  190. Just keep swimming…just keep swimming – this is what I tell myself when life is hard. Thank you for being a comforting voice during tough times.

  191. I build violins, so I can relate. Making things is satisfying in a way like nothing else.

    I adore your Ferris wheels. I must confess that as much as I loved the writing of this post for its sensitivity and beauty, I spent much of it just thinking “I WANT ONE!!!”

  192. Of course, you know you’re not alone, but right now that’s probably like hearing the wonk-wonk of adult conversation in Charlie Brown specials. Many of us have been where you are (many of us are still where you are) and I have learned that it never goes totally away, but it does get quieter. I love the perfectness of the Ferris wheel analogy, where you can put the excess from your head in each car and close the door. One day, you’ll fill up the cars and the stuff will stay put for a while. I hope it’s soon. Thank you for sharing. We have your back.

  193. I do the same thing! Although I don’t just do Ferris wheels (but I have a few) and with each disconnect from the sheet I think of something troubling me and work on letting it go. Then with each bend I think of something I’m grateful for. When I’m done…I put it in my garden, around my home, in my office, and give as gifts. I do it for when I’m having a hard time; I look around and see these little metal creations and begin to remind myself that there is so much I’m grateful for. It took a while to get to that point…but after creating so many…it has gotten easier.

  194. Dear Jenny,

    I am listening to the Let’s Just Pretend This Never Happened audiobook and came to visit your blog, and then ended up doing that thing where you get lost on someone’s blog and wander around on the internets when you should be going to bed and getting some sleep so that you can do something useful in the morning? Anyway, I laughed and cried and then laughed until I cried – and I’m blaming this run-on post on your fantastic book, which really encourages my brain to just follow itself wherever it leads.

    But the whole purpose of this note is this: You are fucking awesome. Keep rocking that shit.

    Ummmmm… I’m blaming the cursing on the book, too, because it made this post seem much more appropriate than it would normally seem. You make my life more interesting and me feel less alone. Thank you.

  195. Every time I think you can’t be more amazing, you write another post like this one! I love you, Jenny!

  196. You can do this! Give your daughter a big hug and make sure you stay there to support her. She needs you. She will always need and love you. As do we.

  197. You make so many people happy and give so many hope – I’m one. I hope the fog lifts soon (and it will – and I know you know that). Just know how loved you are and how wonderful you are and what a bastard and what a liar depression is.

  198. no poetry this time. I just wanted to say I have come to respect and love you more and more, every time you show the vulnerable, damaged sides of your soul to us. If you are like me, you probably often ‘forget’ just how much of a source of strength and support for others you are, but you show through yourself that we are not alone in this, you remind us that we aren’t the only ones who feel these things, and I hope that the courage you have given us to keep pushing through, we can give back to you. Thank you Jenny for being you, and for being the best damn super hero to rock hair curlers and a housecoat

  199. But Jenny, you are yourself, in all of your many colors. And we love them all.

    I find meditation to be my medication of choice. Making miniature ferris wheels is certainly a meditative activity…I can see why you are drawn to it in times of raw need.

    By the way, have you read Buddha’s Brain by Rick Hanson? The information in this book gave me the hope I needed that I might have some say over what’s going on in my brain.

  200. This is why I have worry dolls. People are always asking me, why the worry dolls? Why is one there, why is another one over there, why is one hidden in the lid of my lip balm, why are they so carefully posed?

    They are small. They are concentrated, by which I mean saturated with my concentration. They are simple. I can put big things into them, while I’m posing them or placing them or hiding them or pinching them, and when I’m done they are still small.

  201. thank you for your words. And your ferris wheels.
    I too am crawling out of depression at the moment. Your post makes me feel a little more safe. And gives me a little hope. And a wee small feeling that I’m not the only one that feels like this. Thank you.

  202. Sending a hug.
    (Oh, boy, “one day she’ll leave me”. I’ve got a lot to say about that one.)
    Sending hugs.

  203. Sending a hug.
    (Oh boy, “one day she’ll leave me”. I’ve got a lot to say about that one.)
    Sending hugs.

  204. And, in the midst of depression, you still manage to post on your blog. Wow. I would be inclined to do a social media/blogging fast, hang up the “gone fishing” sign and horde my energy until healed. You, my dear, have an amazing capacity to share, no matter what demons you are slaying. That’s an impressive show of strength.

  205. When he was going through a difficult time (dealing with the death of his beloved grandmother, my Mom) my son would write out his thoughts, or poems that spoke to him, or amazing facts about animals or insects that he has learned, or prayers to God, and would fold them up into origami birds and leave them all over the public library according to their topic. This went on anonymously for months until one of the librarians noticed him there studying, and recognized some of his paper. She came up and said, “Are you the origami guy?” When he confessed he was, and started to apologize she quickly said, “NO! We LOVE that you are doing this. People are enjoying finding your birds and are being inspired to talk about the things you are leaving. It’s like a treasure hunt. Please don’t stop!” And that is what your blog is to so many — a treasure hunt where we can see ourselves or our friends and be inspired to talk about the things you bring to us, and to know and to love them more deeply because of it. Thank you. –Origami Mom

  206. This is the most poignant, thoughtful, true, and brilliant thing I have ever read about depression and how to deal with it.
    I think I am going to order me some of those kits.
    Thank you. And I am glad you are coming up out of it.
    Me too.
    My daughter too.
    It has been a tough few months for all of us.
    We are in this together.

  207. Yes, as many have said, depression lies. I’m recovering from a fairly traumatic 6 months myself. Not depressed persay just ground down by life. We all need out coping strategies, your ferris wheels are a particularly beautiful coping strategy. I have none so beautiful.

    We’ll be here when you’re well and when you’re not. You inspire us in sickness and health.

    Love, hugs and best wishes, Rxx

    P. S. A side note: She will never truly leave you nor you her. No matter the distance she will carry you with her in her heart and you will carry her in yours. She will always return to you. (I know that you know this but depression lies so I thought perhaps you needed to hear it from the outside voices rather than the inside ones.)

  208. I’m sending you big air hugs (I get the whole need for personal space thing when in one of these modes). Thanks for sharing this. I have my own versions of miniature Ferris wheels but I don’t always out them to good use when I’m in a depression. I seem to think getting down on myself for what I’m not doing is more important at times like this ( thanks brain… ). Because of this post I will try to remember to make my own “Ferris wheels” to get through it. Thanks for again being brave, honest, and inspiring. Xo

    Ps how do you stop your cats from destroying your process? I love puzzles but cats my cats think the pieces are food…lol

  209. This poem always lifts my spirits. I hope it lifts yours.
    Litany, by Billy Collins (based on a poem by Jacques Crickillion)

    You are the bread and the knife,
    the crystal goblet and the wine.
    You are the dew on the morning grass
    and the burning wheel of the sun.
    You are the white apron of the baker,
    and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

    However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
    the plums on the counter,
    or the house of cards.
    And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
    There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

    It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
    maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
    but you are not even close
    to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

    And a quick look in the mirror will show
    that you are neither the boots in the corner
    nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

    It might interest you to know,
    speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
    that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

    I also happen to be the shooting star,
    the evening paper blowing down an alley
    and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

    I am also the moon in the trees
    and the blind woman’s tea cup.
    But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
    You are still the bread and the knife.
    You will always be the bread and the knife,
    not to mention the crystal goblet and–somehow–the wine.
    Billy Collins

  210. This was so fucking beautiful. I know depression quite personally and I also find solace in repetitive ‘busy work’. If I don’t have busy work, then I’m static and flat. I love your ferris wheels. I love that you put them out for children to find. Love to you today.

  211. Welcome back. The place just isn’t the same without you. The place would have never been the same if you weren’t created. The place is a little bit darker when you leave it. There is one phrase that is almost more powerful that “I love you” and that is “I miss you”. T:)

  212. Jenny, I really love your ferris wheels – so much so that I ordered one and I will send you some good thoughts/karma when I work on mine. So sorry that you’ve been in a dark place – will keep sending you good thoughts! The world would be much darker without you.

  213. This made me tear up at work, in a good way. You write so beautifully and I’m glad you’re getting better. You also make me laugh far too loudly for any of my colleagues to believe that I’m reading anything work-related. That’s my bad, not yours, I just can’t wait till I get home to read your latest lovely piece.

  214. Jenny, thank you for fighting on your own behalf (and others through your words on your blog); keep doing so. Thank you for being you.

  215. Wow, they are really beautiful. I could not do this in a hundred years. And the idea to put them out for children shows that you really are a good person with a tender heart. When I am sad (I am aware that I have no idea how horrible a depression feels) the only real thing to do is go for a run. Of course I am not up to speed in such cases but it somehow soothes my soul.

  216. You are such a beautiful spirit. You make me smile, you bring happiness, and you are special. I know sometimes it’s not easy to remember, but you are. Thank you for being one of the smiling stars in my day. <3

  217. Even when you are struggling, there’s magic shining in you. Maybe it even shines brighter. That was such a brilliant piece of yourself to share. Thank you.

  218. This is such a beautiful piece of writing. Such a great way to start my day. Thank you for this and all you do for those of us who suffer from mental illness.

  219. Thank you, Jenny. I came here to say something more profound, or encouraging, or just… better, but I needed to read this more than I knew and all I can say is thank you for writing and existing.

  220. “You are braver
    than you believe
    Stronger than you seem
    Smarter than you think
    and loved more
    than you know”

    You make me laugh regularly~thank you…I sincerely hope something (or someone) comes along to make you laugh today. xo

  221. Also struggling lately. If a ferris wheel can help move past being paralyzed with doubt, I may need a ferris wheel. Or chocolate. Or more hiding under the covers.

  222. Wow, I have not been to your blog for awhile, but this post just put into words what has been spinning in my head for the past couple of months. Thank you.

  223. Summer is a time when I frequently pick up my favorite childhood book: Charlotte’s Web. At the end everybody goes to the fair and Fern, who was the first to save Wilbur, rides the Ferris wheel. I hope it doesn’t ruin it for you that Ferris wheels look like giant spider webs. I hope it just makes spider webs seem even more amazing.

    The point is that life is often circular. The good things will come back around.

  224. I worry about you going on book tour. It took so much out of you last time, as I recall. I would love to see you at a book signing, but the cost to you would be too much for me to justify attending.

    (This time around I’ll have people I love traveling with me a lot of the time, plus they built in days where I can just stay in bed at the hotel and not move. There’s also lots of breaks in between tour weeks so I have time to rest. I’m worried too but I think it’ll be much better this time around. And it’s worth the exhaustion to see you guys. You inspire me. You helped me write this last book. ~ Jenny)

  225. Love this. Love love love. Hugs to you and prayers that peace surrounds you.

  226. how wonderful that you leave them for others! especially on tree branches. swoon.
    love to you as you battle and climb. i am fortunate to not have depression and its evil lies so i really have no real understanding. if there was something for us to do to help, we would. until such time, i’ll continue to send love and prayers for healing. xo

  227. You are something else. And I mean that in the most kind and supportive way. I am lucky to have a glimpse of your perspective. Thank you.

  228. I take photographs. Some days the pain (physical for me) is so bad, but when my fingers touch my Nikon and I look to the sky for the inevitable bird to glide by, or land and in those moments, the pain is forgotten and replaced by joy and exhilaration.

  229. Jenny: You are my hero, and that is not internet hyperbole. You’re my hero because you make so many beautiful things, like humor, kindness, and ferris wheels, out of dark, scary things, like depression and anxiety. That is a true gift.

    I had been working on 1000 paper cranes in hope that the story of a wish coming true at the end might be real. I stopped, largely because I moved and the cranes didn’t travel well. But I am going to start again, and my wish will be for all of us to never again think for even a second that we are broken.

  230. Thinking of you. I’d like to call this: You’re good enough, no matter what.

  231. I appreciate how you try to spread happiness in the midst of your darkness. Thank you. ♡

  232. Beautiful post Jenny! It brought tears to my eyes and will always think of you when I see ferris wheels. I’ve been struggling too. What’s funny is I just made it through a horrible year like an ass-kicking super-hero. Now, everything is fine, good even…aannnddd depression. Fucking lying liar, depression.

  233. As someone who also has a lot of routines that the people around him don’t understand, I am sorry. I hope that one day those little passengers may find their peace, and not need to ride. Until then good luck, and you are not alone.

  234. Wow. I’ve been there. I’ve done so many crafts over the years, seeking peace. I’m glad you’ve found something that works for you. And they are beautiful, too. I wish warm, wonderful, kitten cuddles and puppy licks to you. You aren’t alone, just look at the hundreds of people lined up to tell you so.

  235. This is beautiful. The wheels are beautiful. You are beautiful and you are such an inspiration. I’m sorry that you are going through a rough time. But, I am so glad that you have a way to escape the loud and the raw.
    All the comments here are so wonderful. I love that so many of us have ways that we escape from the pain, even if only for a few hours. I am a knitter and that is something that has helped me. Both the process and the tactile feel of the yarn, but also the making of things- something beautiful to wear or to gift to someone else.
    I loved the comment by Origami Mom– what an amazing son you have! My aunt knits small critters and leaves them around (in libraries and other places) with a note that says something like, “I’m not lost, I was left here for you. ”
    Lately my daughter and I have been cutting and folding window stars out of kite paper [http://arwenart.com/tutorials/windowstars/ ] [ https://www.pinterest.com/kimroos/waldorf-window-stars/ ] . I was always frustrated by origami, but these stars have been so good for me. I have noticed that when things get overwhelming I get an urge to go make a star. At first I was confused, since some of my anxiety is based on feeling like there are so many things that I have to do. It didn’t make sense for me to want to not do ANY of it, and instead go and fold paper. But, after reading about your wonderful ferris wheels, it makes so much sense. Thank you. As always, you have brightened my day and made me feel less alone in my struggle.

  236. I am half Japanese and have been folding cranes my whole life. They are supposed to bring good fortune, whatever you need. After folding 1000 (or 1001, depending on the story you are told), your wish or desire will come true. Each crane represents 1001 years of good luck, so a 1001 would represent many years of good luck. I folded 1001 for my sisters wedding. An artist I knew and studied with folded 1001 and gave them to the Ronald McDonald House in our city. My mom and I used to fold them while we talked when I as growing up. Every night. About 5 years ago, I got sick and was in a coma for 20 days, in the hospital for 42 days. When I woke up for the first time, there was a pile of cranes on the side table in my hospital room. My son told me that my mom would bring one everyday when she came to visit. Shortly after I came home, my mother handed me a sheet of origami paper. Without thinking, I folded a crane. She started crying and declared that she then knew I was okay. I put one in every thank card that I sent out to people that had helped me get through the ordeal. And I give them to anyone that wants one.

  237. I think this is my most favorite thing you’ve ever written. The cadence and rhythm of your story telling is very soothing, very quieting. For a brief moment in time, I was sitting in one of those tiny metal cars watching my cares float away. You are beautiful, Jenny. And my life is richer and far more colorful for having found you and your wonderful words. Thank you.

  238. Beautiful writer, beautiful ferris wheel maker, all things pass…..this difficult time will pass……keep on creating and loving the world whatever way you can

  239. I quit that is what makes me happy. Why does your daughter have to wait till she is grown to ride a ferris wheel? Do you not have fairs or carnivals come to town? This is a personal question, but don’t you take meds for your depression and anixety? I have both and i feel great most of the time. I take a lot of meds but it works. Try different things till you find what works for you. I love your blogs and love to read your books. So stay strong my friend. Been there and its no fun.

  240. Sorry you have been struggling through some darkness. Hope the light is shining again soon.
    Love the ferris wheels. How do you keep them from becoming cat toys?

  241. I completely understand the need to control what you can, where you can, creating order.
    Some people clean. Some knit. Some cook. You build. It’s beautiful.
    I hope it helps bring you peace.

  242. #90-Jill – That is the most perfect way to look at “broken”. A cast. I have never had a need for a cast (yet) but I have always known that if I did, I want everybody saying something on it. In glitter pens.
    #115-Kat- Well said! So Very Well Said!

    Jenny-
    That is the singular most hopeful thing I have ever read on your blog or anywhere. Thank you.
    You have helped me find my own voice and to use it. I no longer whisper.
    I cannot sing at all. No problem, you have reminded me that I should hear the singer. I love songs even more.
    I can now see the elephant in my lap. I have stopped hiding the OCD and the anxiety. It does not make me weaker, just different. And that’s OK!
    I now indulge my whimsy. I buy the glass flamingos and wood cranes. I shout their names and show them off. I love them.
    I have always like me. Now I like me more. And that is thanks to you.
    THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU

  243. Also, I am imagining the delight in the child who finds one of your ferris wheels. The stories that could be written of these finders and their ties back to you. What a story that could be 😉

  244. Thank you for putting your struggles out there for us to read. I am currently struggling to accept that I am Highly Sensitive, ADD, slow in thinking and sometimes moving too. But, As Brene Brown and Judith Orloff say “you are enough”. I think I will accept this quote as my mantra……. I know I am enough sometimes and other times I cry about it because it makes me feel weak and useless. Thank you again because I know you are out there and are funny, wacky, truthfull and amazing!!! Keep up the fight!!!!

  245. I always want to comment to you and rarely do, figuring it will just be unseen in the masses. And that’s OK. So much in me relates to the words and emotions that you convey. I appreciate you, and the little bit that I think I know about you. I appreciate the laughter and joy that you bring into my life. So Thank You. I hope this heavy depression spell lifts for you very soon. I know what a bitch it is. Lot of love xxoo

  246. Thank you! I have had a tiny millennium falcon for over a year and now I am inspired. I need to stay out of my own head! This too shall pass.

  247. There goes my “No Amazon Shopping Allowed For The Summer (Except Books)”. I wanted a ferris wheel and then I saw the At-At……damn.

  248. One winter I knit 8 sweaters. Thousands and thousands of stitches because it was all I could handle doing.

  249. Jenny, You are not alone, the road out is just longer this time around. And you are not traveling alone, I am right there with you.

  250. I adore your tiny ferris wheels. Even more, I love that you leave them to bring joy and whimsy to someone else.

  251. I understand. I won’t say that I know how you feel, I’ve never felt what you have, because I’ve had too many people say this to me with condescension.
    The last few weeks have been difficult for many people it seems. For me the trouble culminated when my mother, seeing a new doctor for the first time, was told she couldn’t have her service dog in the clinic with her. It seems they thought they could decided she wasn’t a service dog, only an emotional support animal. Talk about arrogance. She made it almost all the way through her appointment before the panic and worry became too much. I’m very thankful my sister had decided to go with her, but I still ended up having to take her home so my sister could be to work on time. The appointment was supposed to be a 30 minute meet’n’greet type and turned into two and a half hours of discussing ADA law with the clinic administrators. The next day the clinic administrative director had to call and apologize, citing that panic disorder and ptsd are covered under ADA, whereas depression is not. What burns my butt is that they had the nerve to say that a service dog isn’t a service dog, that her paperwork from her old Dr and the county isn’t good enough for them.
    And now you’ve made me feel so much better, being able to confess my anger with someone who won’t argue with me(darling husband).

  252. Beautiful. I’m so glad that there is a company that is able to provide you with solace when you absolutely desperately need it. I know, you know, we all know that DEPRESSION LIES. That doesn’t change the fact that any of us who experience it still need a little something to help guide us to the light that we know is out there, waiting for us.

    You are blessed, Jenny. Loving and supportive family, an absolute gift for words, and a time-consuming habit to fill the time when you’re not feeling blessed.

    We, your audience, are blessed to have you. I know we’re all rooting for you to find the light, and we’re not going to “pressure” you to find it. We’re just going to patiently wait for your next inspired post. Thank you for this one.

  253. I love your beautiful little ferris wheels and I am so glad you have them. I understand what you go through. Depression can suck you down, just keep looking up and reaching for the sun.

  254. I love that you make something so beautiful when you are in such an ugly place and how they will make someone’s day a little happier for finding one. My husband suffers from depression and panic disorder and it’s hard to pull him out but I just let him know that I am here and loving him which I’m sure your husband does for you. It’s a wonderful thing to have loving and supportive people around you, even people who only know you through books and blogs. Take care! Can’t wait to meet you in Huntsville, Al.

  255. Beautifully written, and I love the idea of people finding these treasures! Thank you for always making the darkness a little brighter.

  256. This is lovely. I’m sorry for the darkness that makes these necessary, but it’s great that you have something to help lift that and so beautiful that you share something amazing with others because of it. Thank you, for putting your story out there. You are a blessing & inspiration to so many.

  257. Your honesty is inspiring and cathartic. I’ve had a terrible month with anxiety and PTSD; I’ve hardly left the house. I can’t focus on anything long enough to even do laundry. Yesterday, my therapist told me that it would be helpful to find something detailed to hyper-focus on, to distract me from the raging anxiety that lights me up. I’m finally climbing out of the mud, but I want a tiny roller coaster for next time. What a wonderful idea. Thank you.

  258. I love the ferris wheels, also that you leave them for someone else to find. I’m glad putting these together gives you some peace of mind and helps you crawl further away from that dark place that I’m sure we’ve all been in. As you always say “depression lies” so it will get better, you’ll get there again! Take care and thank you for being you!!!!

  259. What an amazing thing! And to leave them for people in the world to find…

    Knowing that there is a you, that you adapt/deal with the world by doing this amazingly quirky and beautiful thing, and that part of this thing is disseminated into the world…it makes my heart lighter, it makes the world more beautiful and full. Thank you!

  260. When I’m stressed out and coming out of my little whole , I tend to make intricate jewelry. Have you thought of making jewelry too.

  261. I didn’t know they made kits for things like these. They’re beautiful. Knitting is that “challenging but mindless” activity for me. I moved almost 200 miles away from my boyfriend, family, and friends two years ago to take a stressful job in a very busy place, so knitting has been my sanity. Knitting and watching Netflix keeps both my hands and my head occupied so I don’t have to think about being lonely, unhappy, and stressed. When my whole world is in flux, knitting is the constant: just the same two stitches over and over again.

    I hope things get better for you soon. <3

  262. We all noticed. We can just sit back, listen to what you have to say, then wait. We will wait for you to return. We are here. We are not going anywhere.

  263. That’s the magic, that you leave them for other people to find. This one, you seem to be saying, has done what it needed to do for me, I can let it go.
    My winter salvation is Legos. I haul them down from their perch in the closet, spread them out on the dining room table, and begin making patterns, things, whatever. Over and over, all winter, different colors, shapes, patterns. And symmetry, always. As if I were trying to balance the outsides and the insides.

    The world is a better place for you being in it, with your insights, your humor, your writing. Take care, Jenny. Please.

  264. I believe this has been the most helpful post I have ever read June flew by me like a hurricane of pain, fear, anxiety, and depression my heart is covered in stitches and band aides that I pray heal sooner than later. My body my head my brain are crawling screaming to leave this world of pain and mid diagnosis to be blinded of the site of saddness in those I loves eyes to not be the source of their pain and fear. Thank you for writing something so amazing that today I will fight just a bit harder to be just a little less afraid and to hold on until tomorrow because so far my success rate of surviving this painful illness is 100%

    Thank you

  265. You may have created a monster. They make these based on some of my favorite video games and TV shows!

  266. This entire community is just a beautiful place. I’m one of the obnoxiously sunny idiots (most days) so if any of you need to borrow some light, I’ve got some to spare. Drink your fill.

    In face of the crappiness, I see myself as a “knight of light”. Now I’ll joust for each of you (alright the metaphor falls apart a bit but WE’RE STILL AWESOME!)

    shine

  267. I followed the link to Amazon to find one of the ferris wheels, but I think I’d rather get the windmill that is advertised as the Eiffel tower. That suits me.

  268. Hi Jenny, just wanted to say you are loved and appreciated and I am glad you are here on this Earth. I do the same thing with jigsaw puzzles, not to combat anxiety and depression though, my fight is with compulsive eating. Jigsaw puzzles keep my hands and mind busy so I do not mindlessly snack when I am home. It also helps keep my hands away from my eyelashes and hairline as I deal with Trichotillomania as well.
    My walls are filling up with completed puzzles however, so I have added some of these models to my wishlist and will see if these help me cope. I love the idea of leaving them as surprises for the neighborhood children when I am done so they do not clutter up my house!

  269. this is exquisite- it’s delicate and raw and fine.
    My calmness and soothing to you, I’m glad you’re finding your way through. <3

  270. Jenny, these are so lovely and intricate! I salute you for having the patience to construct them.

  271. What a beautiful act of self-care.
    And, at last count, there are 375 little points of light commenting here to twinkle in the darkness so you can find your way when ready.

  272. oh, Jenny, I love when you make me laugh but I life for the moments when you open your heart and show the insides and they look so much like my insides and I think how your insides are gorgeous (and the outsides, too, though that’s just icing) and that maybe my insides might be gorgeous to someone, too, and maybe my broken part isn’t as ugly as it feels and that I will be loved in spite of or because of it, the same as I love you, broken part and all =)

  273. Jenny, you’re a beautiful human being. I’m thinking of you. Depression is a son of a bitch. Xo I love your ferris wheels. I imagine someone finding them right when they need to. Maybe it lifts them out of their own depression even if just for a moment and gives them a little peace.

  274. Maintain. There’s a wonderful phrase in surfing called a “head cage” where you cover your head so the board doesn’t hit you in the noggin, which is beyond painful, but produces lovely colors and you can see noise. I digress.
    I have often used a head cage out of the water as well.
    Whatever works. You’re all kinds of awesome. For realz.

  275. Oh my goodness, I SO needed to read this today. I’m struggling, to pull myself up by the bootstraps; sometimes I can’t find them; and when I do, they break. Those bootstraps have been hiding and breaking a lot lately. While exploring a hobby shop to find materials for my son’s Senior CP Physics projects, I found the mini 3-D kits, and had a moment of inspiration. I can’t be Errol Flynn, or Jack Sparrow….I can’t be a shipwrignt or even a sailor. I’m too freaking old to even think of those things now….but I found a kit for “The Black Pearl”….and bought it. It’s been sitting on my book case for about 4 months now. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself because couldn’t find enough of my bootstraps to make it to Penn’s Landing for the Tall Ships Festival last weekend…but my “Black Pearl” model is now calling me for Independence Day. It’s a paid day off from work, and I’ll be home alone. If I manage to complete it this weekend, I’ll admire my accomplishment for a little bit, then pass it along. Love you!!!

  276. Why does this remind me of Boo Radley from “To Kill a Mockingbird”? He turned out to be a hero in the book, but in my opinion, not the hero that you are.

  277. I think the sweetest thing I have ever heard is leaving those for someone to find. I just…particularly as a small human, stumbling across one of those would have fascinated me, made me believe in faeries and pixies and magical things. It’s so sweet and tiny and beautiful and intricate.

    I knit. For me, the repetitiveness, it lets me get lost in something. And it slowly takes shape, and it looks right and it’s so good to see it look right, and then I give them away-I made scarves, when all I knew was the most basic stitch. Now I take requests for knitted wings-they go on your back with straps and I make them in all colors and they’re just difficult enough for me to not think while I’m making them. And since my thoughts are hurting me, this is good. I pull up Netflix, which I never have the patience to watch because I’m just sitting and there’s no point and I should be doing something, and I click on a show or a movie and I sit and my hands work and I relax.

  278. I thought about your beautiful Ferris wheels a number of times today. This was a beautiful post.

    Thank you for being open.

  279. I am so sorry that you are feeling so out of it. If it brings you any comfort at all, I’d like to say “me too.” this has been a strange, uncomfortable summer for me too and my depression has grabbed fast to my ankle and refused to let go.

    I like to fold paper stars, also called “lucky” stars. They’re simple and easy and doing so becomes rote. I give myself goals, usually a thousand or so, and then I start leaving them places. Tucked into bookshelves, scattered across tables, slipped into open purses. Because everyone always reacts with delight when they see the stars, so I hope by dropping them and leaving them where I’ve been I can inject a little more light into the world.

  280. Jenny, your wheel reminded me of the one at Bonnington Square Garden:

    Legend has it that once a year the wheel turns, bringing forth beautiful, crystal clear champagne from the worlds below…a delightful fishing boat that floated above the pergola on a sea of wisteria set sail one midnight eve ne’er to be seen again – but only ever for believers.

    I hope the photos help light the way out, a little.

  281. Here’s the email that I sent you that didn’t go through:

    There are so many reasons that I am glad that I didn’t know about you before I did (a couple of months ago, plus or minus Beyonce). Because we wouldn’t have been ready for each other then …

    I wrote my first book somewhere around the age of five. My dad has a copy of it. That happened in 1979/80. But, between then and now, all of my writing was academic. Mostly. Or bookkeeping. Because whatever it was in me that made me write when I was young was either (a) suppressed by drugs and booze or (b) busy with academia and neglect. I probably wrote a piece or two on understanding our place in the Universe between then and now, but nothing was serious.

    In 2010, I found myself living just outside of Tampa, FL with a man from NY who hid guns in the closet. And I was unemployed. Because the economy had crashed while I was in Grad School and, when I came out, there was no work for me. I ran away. With my dog in tow.

    I wrote my first book proposal then. And was told, “no.” And then I gave up for awhile.

    So, I started a blog. I don’t write often enough, but I write.

    I read your story about Beyonce a couple of years ago. I didn’t know that was you, then. But, I laughed.

    I went out recently and bought some funny memoirs by women recently because I needed motivation. And so I bought ‘Let’s Pretend This Never Happened’. And I knew, then, that I already knew you. At least a little bit.

    There’s a chapter in there … about Home … that I dog-eared …

    And your blog on 1,000 ferris wheels …

    Which is when I began to understand, finally, that hiding behind you writing is never the thing that you should do.

    Because, when I wrote, I sometimes wrote Sad. Other times, I wrote Funny. Sometimes, Melancholy. And I wrung my hands, trying to stabilize my ‘voice’. Until I realized that I didn’t actually have to do that anymore. I don’t have to.

    Because, writing is that thing that you do that’s all of you. If you hide behind Writing, you’re not doing it right. It’s like a fake orgasm. Which I’ve never had, but you get what I’m saying.

    I know that lots of folks write to you about how you’ve saved their life. I applaud you for that … and I can’t