Right now I am dealing with a moderate bout of depression.  Not sadness.  Depression.   Where you can barely get out of bed, let alone shower and eat something besides cereal or pie.   Where nothing seems worth doing.  Where you can't see all the people that love you, even though they are still right there.  Where life seems frustrating, and pointless and nothing makes sense. And where you think you will never be happy again.   The joy is gone.  The creativity is stunted.  The plans for your life seem ridiculous and impossible.   Hope is a word no longer in your vocabulary.   Your life becomes a daily struggle to just get through.  Well-meaning friends and family tell you to cheer up, stop feeling sorry for yourself and point out all the ways it could be worse...which only causes you to feel worse as you worry that those things are bound to happen to you sooner or later.   Some people avoid you altogether because you are a downer, or because you might make them depressed.  Depression is lonely.

 My journey into darkness started with an overly busy schedule, combined with a flu, followed by a cold.   The death of a good friend and a family breakdown kicked me to the bottom. And each day has been one foot in front of the other to do what I have to do.  Nothing else.  No writing, no jewelery making, no photography, no art journaling, no housework, no laundry.

It might seem like I am wallowing in a vast ocean of self pity.  And maybe I am.  Maybe I have good reason to do so.  But I don't choose this.   And I read all sorts of pithy statements on Facebook saying You Can Choose To Be Happy and most of the time I agree with that, because we really do choose how we deal with the world.  But not when we have depression.  I can no more choose to step out of this than I can choose to not have diabetes.  And anyone who has been really and truly depressed can understand how hard it is to "choose".  

So what do I do?  I wait.  It will pass.  I muster all my strength and courage to try and not isolate myself.  I go to work. I get as much sleep as possible. I force myself to stay connected to friends who have been there.   And I forgive myself if I don't quite meet my own standards.   I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel...and I tell myself it is not a train.  It is the sunshine.   It is the light of life.   It will come....I hope.  It's starting to pass.  And that is why I am writing.  And today I might sit at my craft table.  Even sitting there is a start.