Perseverance

If I were to chart my moods on a graph every day the end result would look like a roller coaster. Depression often makes me feel as if I am bipolar (no offense to anyone who is actually bipolar. Since I am not, I am only using it as a loose comparison).

Yesterday was definitely a roller coaster day. I had the stress of wondering if Eric was alive. Turns out he was camping in a location where he didn't have cell service. Which could have been just about anywhere on the mountain, but he was exactly where he said he would be, therefore easy for me to find him when he failed to come home at the expected time.  Over twenty-four hours had gone by without so much as a text. We never go that long without communicating with each other. I was worried. My ride up the mountain gave me plenty of time to think of all the ways he could be injured or dead. By the time I saw him, safe and intact, I had convinced myself that I would find him trapped under a fallen tree. These thoughts come as a side effect of having a beer loving husband alone on a mountain with a chainsaw. He walked up to me as I approached on the four-wheeler and what did I do? I punched him as hard as I could, called him a sonofabitch, and burst into tears. He was completely baffled, but quickly made me laugh by admitting that, even though he didn't know what he did, he probably deserved it.
Since Eric's safety had been established I was free to ride back down the mountain. I did so leisurely, stopping to watch a red-tailed hawk in flight, smell the flowers and take pictures. All was right in my little world again.
When evening rolled around, and my mood turned dark again, I really wasn't surprised. I went to bed hoping tomorrow would bring a fresh start.
I woke this morning to discover that depression had dug its greedy claws into me. Once again an invisible force was keeping me in bed, and keeping me from doing the very things that I know will help pull me out of my funk.
My chest felt heavy. I felt like I was drowning.
By the time I could breath again I had missed out on the fun I had planned for the day. Immediately came the regret, then remorse, for not following through on commitments I had made. Well, what's done is done (in this case, not done), and there's no sense in dwelling in regret. As for guilt, I was born with that piece missing.
With some help from Eric, I put on my big girl pants, and forced myself back up on the mountain for a hike. For those of you who have never suffered through depression you should know this is an incredible feat. The very act of movement hurts; my feet feel like they have been filled with lead. Every step is an act of defiance against myself.
For four hours I said "Fuck You Depression", enjoying the clean air and the sounds of nature. Tonight I am winning the battle, or I'm just too tired.
My calf muscles are giving me the middle finger.
Mentally, I feel pretty darn good. #givingdepressionthefinger

#givingdepressionthefinger

Inspiration comes in many forms. Mine came when I discovered that a friend was enduring the same pain as I was, at the same time, a hundred miles away. She began to talk about her depression on Facebook. She didn't know it, but I was glued to her every word. When she took up hiking as a tool to battle her depression she created a hashtag to go along with it: #givingdepressionthefinger. It's now my mantra. I also began using hiking as a tool. Really, I was already hiking, but for some reason this small motivation gave more depth to my action. Hiking is currently a priority that I see to as diligently as showering.

She and I have not discussed this. I have only openly discussed my struggle with Eric, and casually mentioned it with a few friends I consider close. I'm a very private person (this is why blogging terrifies me--step out of your comfort zone Amy!). Depression can be easy to hide with enough effort. There is also that thing. The stigmatization of depression as if it's some sort of shameful mental disorder. Which is lame when you consider how many of us have/are/will suffer from it at some point in our lives.

Depression has unfortunately become my best friend. It's with me everywhere I go. Sometimes it brings along its friends, Anxiety and Introversion. They taunt and torment me like a couple of playground bullies. I am fighting back and I'm winning. This is not my first ride on the depression merry-go-round. It's been part of my life since puberty. This is the first time in over a decade it's brought me down so low. Depression becomes a downward spiral. I know what I need to do to help myself, but doing those things with consistency becomes overwhelming. My thoughts become shattered and nothing seems important any more. Days go by. I wallow in my own darkness. Then a focused thought (or hashtag) emerges and I grasp at it like a life line and I lift myself back up.
On the bright side, I've learned something about myself through all of this. Last summer I was riding a high. I was unstably euphoric; feeling and acting in ways that were out of character and downright dangerous. I now recognize that for what it really was: the first stage of a serious hormonal/chemical imbalance. When winter came I crashed, and have since been trying to claw my way back out. Obviously I'm making some headway or I would not be talking about it (because we never want to talk about it when we are deep in the center).
For now I will continue the hiking and remember to take my vitamins every day. As the seasons change, so will my outdoor activities. My wish for myself is to continue to be optimistic.

Namaste.