I have lived with depression as part of bipolar disorder for decades now. It’s very easy to get tied up into the terribleness of it all and then to get stuck in the mud.
In the past, I was often Bewildered by people who could simultaneously be crushingly depressed and also seem to carry a little pocket of hope around with them at the same time. I couldn’t fathom how that could be possible.
Depression felt like an all-consuming weight that took up the entirety of my being and didn’t allow room for anything but sleeping and stuffing my face occasionally. Literally everything else would fall by the wayside. Self care, responsibilities, relationships, anything I valued would drift off like a wisp of smoke.
The difference now is that I am looking at things so much differently. Depression is still a part of my life. Even the crushing kind where I think I can’t breathe. I just know I am in recovery now. It means that I might have that extra oomph in me to do things like yesterday and get the bathroom cleaned even though it felt like an “all day in bed day.” It means that I don’t go buy a pack a cigarettes and screw myself over just because I am having a hard time for a few days. It means that I don’t give up. It means that I don’t wallow in the mud for very long because I am not interested in getting stuck.
There’s hope in the distance still. Recovery is still out there. Sometimes it’s faint and it’s the smallest of lights, but I can still see it and I want it. Rolling around in the mud doesn’t really get me there.
Image from Pixabay