I sit at my dining room table, eating oatmeal. I don’t have any raisins or sweeteners left, so the spoonful of oats sit in my mouth, tasteless and wet. I look down at my book and read the same sentence again. I sigh softly to myself, giving up. I finish my oatmeal while staring out the window in front of me. I feel dissatisfied, I feel empty, I feel inexplicably sad.
I try to repeat my mantras, list all the things I’m grateful for in this moment. My mood doesn’t change. I try to step outside for a few minutes and take a couple deep breaths, listen to the birds. Nothing. I wander upstairs to do yoga, trying to deeply connect with each position, to allow the sensations from my body drown out the noise of my mind. Still no luck.
Anxiety, on the one hand, I know. Anxiety is an old friend, one who has followed me around since I was navigating my first day of middle school. Anxiety is a long list of coping mechanisms, each tailored to the time of day, reason, and efficacy. My anxiety, I’ve made peace with. It is something that is expected and easily understood, even while unwelcome.
Depression, on the other hand, sneaks up on me in silence. All it takes is the quiet darkness of night breaking through to the bright light of morning. Suddenly, mere seconds after opening my eyes, I’m falling hundreds of feet away from happiness, fulfillment, and excitement, to despair, restlessness, and emptiness. I never expect it, I can never feel it coming. Despite it having been around for some time, I still never know how to cope with it.
Depression haunts me. It comes in waves. It keeps me from feeling like I’m moving forward, like I have anything to look forward to at all. It plays with my mind, asking me if I’m really happy, pushing me towards believing I’m not. It encourages me to wallow, to not see things clearly, to wonder what the point is of trying so hard everyday. It freezes me in time, renders me incapable of making decisions, making plans, making progress.
Mostly, it makes me frustrated. Frustrated at my brain for seemingly wanting to give up so easily. Frustrated that it rises onto my being along with the sun on a perfectly fine day, determined to color everything in a shade of grey. It also scares me, because even though I know I’ve been here before, every time it feels like I’ll never feel anything but empty again.
Regardless, I do my healthy practices. I wake up early, I read, I exercise, I go for a walk. Although none of it feels like it’s helping, I know that each time I make a positive, healthy choice over an unhealthy, negative one, that I’m slowly chipping away at the grip depression holds over me. I force myself to remember that my depression comes in waves, that I just need to hold out long enough to get to the other side, when I feel like I couldn’t even fathom feeling so numb again.
Eventually, almost as reliable as the sun, I wake up one morning feeling better. The despair and emptiness feel smaller somehow. Each time I decide to battle my harmful emotions with love and compassion and not with hatred or a bottle I can see that the amount of time I spend in this black hole is shrinking. I don’t know if I’ll ever be rid of these depressive episodes, but I know that I won’t, and I can’t, let it dictate my life.
Dear Valerie, I think you need to come back in Italy for a few days!
Happy new year!!!