This was the question from a good friend who moved to Asheville a while back.

"Haven't heard much from you in a while," he said.

True story.

And by "heard much," he was talking about social media, mostly how he and I have kept up since he moved.

He's not the only person asking that question, in person and on social media.

It was July 24 - nearly nine weeks ago - since I last shared anything of substance. At the time, I was on cloud nine. Julia and I had just finished the Super Epic - Super Pacific Road Trip, which, despite a couple of setbacks, really was super epic.

Shortly after that, my youngest son Sam and I spent a week in West Virginia off-roading and camping with friends before heading to Washington, D.C., for a few days.

There were a lot of successes along the way. Having so much time with my wife, followed by a week with my son, was incredible. And the two trips combined, with me being out of the office for 25 out of 60 days, proved that my ten-ten-ten plan is possible - at least in terms of working remotely.

From the outside, you'd be hard-pressed to find much to complain about.

And for clarity, I'm not complaining.

Not at all.

But since folks are asking, and since I am usually an open book, it seems only fair that I answer.

Where I've been is down in a hole.

Depressed.

Pretty damn miserable, if I'm being honest.

Why?

Two reasons.

First, I occasionally suffer from minor depression. I come by it honestly - most folks on one side of my family are some sort of crazy. We've got suicides, attempted suicides, stints in mental hospitals, and plenty of psych meds.

For me, the onset is typically late summer, and it usually passes in a week or two.

It's a period of time with obscured highs and magnified lows.

Nothing seems quite right.

I lose interest in my work, hobbies, and everything else.

I dread everything and enjoy nothing.

All I want to do is sleep.

To those unfamiliar with clinical depression, that probably sounds horrific. Although to those who have experienced it - particularly those folks with major depressive disorder - it ain't shit.

Lots of people have it a hell of a lot worse than I do. And I've learned to recognize it, which makes it all the easier to deal with.

Plus, two weeks is nothing.

So what was different this time?

Well, that's the second part.

By all visible measures, it's been a very successful year, and I've shared many of those successes with you guys.

But behind the scenes, a lot of shit has gone wrong year.

Some of it terribly so.

And although the effects have been significant, I don't wish to dwell on it. For the most part, it has been beyond my control, and I try to focus only on what I can control.

So, I'll say this: I'm dealing with extraordinary health issues and seemingly impossible family issues.

In August, I felt like a wave was closing in on me. And in the first week of September, it crashed.

All around me was darkness and chaos.

It wasn't that I didn't know which way to turn.

I did.

But I didn't have the will.

Last week, I spilled my guts to a friend.

His response?

"Fuck, dude, how are you even alive right now?"

"It beats the alternative," I said.

Although the truth is, I would have taken the alternative that day or any other day of the past couple of months. I'd been in a place where at night, going to bed, I'd wish I wouldn't wake up the next day.

Then, when I woke up the next day, I wished I hadn't.

To be clear, I was not suicidal. But for that time, day-to-day life seemed impossible. The fire within, usually fierce and hot, had been reduced to a smolder.

Day after day, I'd wait to snap out of it.

After all, that's what had always happened in the past. A week or two of melancholy and then, poof! Just like that, it would be over, and I'd be back to my usual self, only those in my innermost circle having even been aware.

And that's eventually what happened.

Last Friday, I woke up feeling as I usually do.

Wheels spinning.

Fire burning.

All systems go.

I've still got the health problems, and I've still got the family problems. Still, I've wrangled them back into their compartmentalized and manageable boxes where they belong, and the melancholy has subsided.

And it feels really good to feel good again.