The funny thing about depression is it shows its ugly head – wait. It’s not ugly, that isn’t fair. Let me start over…
The funny thing about depression is that it shows up when you don’t see it coming and without needing a reason. And it’s usually the unexpected visits that rock you the hardest.
I take pride in taking care of myself. Mainly because I know what’s on the other side. I list what I’m grateful for every night before I go to bed (ask anyone who hangs around me – if I’m out and about with friends at bedtime I alert them all my when my phone dings. I say “time to be grateful, humans”), I do yoga in the morning and set my intentions. I meditate in the middle of the day when I need to both breathe and find strength to push on. I force myself to physically move everyday. Some days that doesn’t include a structured workout, and I learn to forgive myself for that. But I have a hard rule, that if you are scrolling through Instagram then you can be up at least walking in place while you do it. And it’s not because I dislike my body. It’s because I love my body and want to care for her.
Regardless, days like yesterday happen. It’s like waking up in a dark, overly humid room. It’s hard to figure out where you are & who you are and regain your senses. So while you’re trying to open some windows and find a light switch, it’s easy to criticize. It’s the dark after all, and you can’t look yourself in the eye. How can I argue with something I don’t see?
I try, but it feels like I’m never going to reach the surface and get that breath of fresh air. I’m not sure on days like yesterday I ever do actually break-even.
What seems to happen is I sit down in the middle of the room – after fighting for my life to re-balance things – I give up. But not like you might think. I sit down and give up – as in, I give up fighting. I say “okay, Hannah. What’s wrong? Is something wrong? Is there a reason for any of these feelings? What can you control? What can you not?”. Then to the darkness I say “I see you. And honestly I appreciate you. You make me better. Without the dark I wouldn’t have the light. Without straining to breathe I wouldn’t appreciate fresh air. I would never assess, evaluate and improve. So I see you. I know this is your home too.”
Then I crawl. I go do (almost) everything I was supposed to, or intended to, do that day but at a slower pace. From a different level. I do my best within the dark.
That means a large part of the day results in mistakes happening, and I am set up with a challenge to love myself through it all. I am constantly exercising my ability to forgive.
At the end of every day. Dark and light. Humid and airy. It’s always about Progress. Not perfection.
Love you. All of you.