Until we meet again, depression

Depression is a sneaky thing. It slowly builds and creeps in, invading my mind, body, and soul, and affects every area of my life. I don’t notice it at first; it is that subtle. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I wake up one morning, and I am no longer me. The positive, glass-half-full me has disappeared. She is gone. The depression has completely sucked me under, and the weight on my chest makes it hard to breathe. It is excruciating. I would rather walk through fire than deal with this deep, all-consuming depression. It hurts. Everything feels awful. I retreat into myself, and no one can find their way in.

When I feel the only way to escape the pain is to kill myself, I tell my mom, who saves me. She is my soft place to land. Then, those who love me surround me. They form a protective circle around me, reminding me I am unconditionally loved. It can take weeks or months, but I wake up one morning, and the weight on my chest is gone. The love I feel from every corner of my life makes it impossible for depression to take up any more space. 

I weep with happiness and gratitude for how fortunate I am to have so much love and support. I see colours again. I laugh. I am present, noticing dandelions growing from the earth and the beautiful burnt orange jumper a woman in the checkout line at the grocery store is wearing. I look around me, and I am bewildered at how it was ever possible for me to be depressed in the first place.

I am back.