I’ve been in a dark place recently. The last couple of weeks I’ve felt as if I’ve been wandering aimlessly through life with weights attached to my arms and legs—my heart. Nearly everything in my life has been neglected in some way—my house, my kids, my health. At times like this each little task takes on the illusion of being monumental, and when you have several monumental tasks, it becomes too overwhelming to accomplish any of them.
Then, Saturday morning, the fog cleared, and I somehow received a burst of energy, motivation, confidence, determination, strength, and I got to work. I exercised, did yoga, cleaned my house, vacuumed, put the dishes away. And then the darkness settled back in, the weights snapped back on. All I wanted to do was retreat to my bed and spend the rest of the day curled up there, crying. I stood in my kitchen battling those thoughts, and somehow I fought them off. I was still depressed, still in darkness, yet I still managed to finish the dishes, go to the store and even went to a marching band competition. I’d been planning on going to it for several weeks, but when the depression gets as bad as it has been it’s easy to make up excuses to get out of anything.
I don’t know why I was able to keep going this time. There have been many times I have given in, let the mental illness win, gotten back in bed and let life fall to pieces. Sometimes that is just mental illness. But it gives me hope to know that I can fight back and accomplish things even when I’m depressed. I hope it gives others hope as well.