I wrote goodbye letters to my former fiancé. I dug into my feelings and sat there, not really sure what actions to take. So I stayed still. I sat with the feelings. I prayed and meditated. I ate three meals a day and walked in the brutal Texas heat. And I kept going.
I have suffered from depressions since I was 15 when I had my first collapse at a prep school (Phillips Exeter Academy) in New Hampshire. I didn’t know what was happening to me.
My non-depression (or normal) me is a bit more energetic and creative than most people. I get high, yes, but its natural energy (maybe some coffee) and it's what I consider the real me. The undepressed me. Still, you might think I was high if you met me.
I'm as happy as I've ever been. I'm still digging into and talking about my anger resistance. But everything seems to be moving in the right direction in my life. I'm putting in the work on myself. I'm striving for success rather than just survival.
I do recover. I am conscious of when I'm avoiding. I still do it, but I'm doing it less. And I'm learning to take the uncomfortable feelings or worry by the horns and looking the damn bull in the eye and saying, "To hell with you, fear, I'm going in!"
I was showing myself that I was emerging from one of the longest depressions I've been in as an adult. For me, creativity and brain health go hand in hand. So I'm happy to be back, still working, but on the upswing.
My most recent bouts of depression were triggered by my divorce, but it's a lifelong journey for me. I can drink. I can stop drinking. But I'm not sure how good I am at getting sad and not turning on the sadness fire hose at the first sign of things going off.
If I can leverage that into some measure of hopefulness, then I am well along my path of recovery. I don't have to aim for joy when I am activated and functioning properly.