It’s an interesting place to be in when you sit still for the first time in awhile.
Not on my bed, or in front of Netflix or paperwork or a project. But just sitting, still, with nothing in front of you but space.
I have a new tradition in my life that may sound sad, but really, it’s not.
The new tradition is this: every Friday I have to change into my bathing suit to go swimming with my tiny humans. It’s normal at about 9:30 and I take my coffee into my storage closet and close the door.
But, I don’t turn on the light. I stand, in pitch blackness for at least two minutes. Breathing in and out and drinking my coffee. I did this for the first time on accident. I shut the door without turning the light on and was quickly enveloped in darkness and an intense sigh escaped my body.
The absence of light brought me completely relief.
That sentence sounds like a conundrum really. But in my overly sensory laden environment I’m in every day, being in a pitch black room is heaven.
I’ve been sitting here, at redlight, for over an hour. I’ve started numerous different blogs, I’ve started text conversations, I’ve only had one mimosas and I’ve stared a blank screen.
But now, I came back to this one, these first words I wrote.
Here’s what it is: I’m struggling with depression right now. Depression, coupled with anxiety, with some winter blues to mix it all up.
I don’t like to talk about depression and anxiety because people have opinions.
There are so many schools of thought on depression and anxiety. So many books and methodologies and experts.
Now, as a human who lived with two people who were in grad programs for clinical psychology (shoutout to A3), I know that there is hope and help and all the things dealing with depression.
But, that doesn’t make me any less prone to talk about it.
There a few types of seasons that come up in my life that cause me to want to shut my mouth.
Because I’ve been through it before, because people have helped me before, because shouldn’t I be able to solve my own problems.
We live in a society that tells us to figure out our own issues.
Fake it til you make it.
There is a time and a place for faking it til you make it.
Because, yes, we just have to get through the day. I have tiny humans who need me to show up for them each day. Routines and a schedule and transitions that have to happen every day.
But, what are you going to do when you stop?
I binged watched a show on Friday. I haven’t done that for awhile. I watched the entirety of the first season of the reboot of Queer Eye. (No but really watch it)
And I cried.
It was the loveliest reminder of what it looks like to care for ourselves. To do things that bring us life. To take time to fill ourselves up. To take time to live.
I am a human, who has for the past 10-12 years, struggled with depression and anxiety.
I’m not defined by it.
It’s not who I am.
It’s just something that rears it’s head in some seasons more than others.
The things that pop up here and there don’t define us. They don’t hold us.
We are still us.