When my depression swoops in over me I feel like a wayward island. No anchor to the ocean floor, no density to keep me from drifting—just a sense of wide open, dangerous space that I have no idea how to fill up.
I’m made up of chemicals and remnants of stars, I know that, but in the midst of the enveloping ocean of grey that overcomes me I simply can’t see straight.
I try to conjure up energy. I try to rally up my forces but, in the midst of all the too blue water I feel paralyzed. And so I sit with it. I sit with my indecision and inability to conquer and move and create.
But there are those moments, in the midst of all I feel that is unmoving and stagnant, when I get a two second glimpse of all that surrounds me which my brain interprets as all that is possible and I hunker down one more time with my game plan and I tell myself that all will be well if I just keep my eyes open and my heart moving forward.
Yours In So Much Yada-Yada,