A Close Call

I have been battling depression all my adult life. Perhaps battling isn’t the correct word. I've been running from it, frantically. I see its shadow coming, and I'm scared as a child alone in the dark. It rolls over me like a Mack truck and leaves me flattened. Fortunately, lately with the help of medication and psychotherapy, the truck stays mostly in its garage and days are brighter.

But I had a scare the other day. I let myself get overtired, doing too many things, going too fast and not getting enough sleep (always a red flag.) I got to work yesterday, thought everything was fine – that I was getting stronger and learning to take one day at a time when all of a sudden, my stomach twisted into knots, I couldn’t breathe and my mind started to plunge. I could sense the truck starting up and rolling down my street towards me. In a panic, I called my boss and started to cry. “Go home,” he said. So I did. I’ve been resting ever since.

The truck backed up into the garage. I did my meditation so I wouldn’t fear it, whether it came or not - acceptance is a great part of healing. I’m almost back to “normal,” (“normal” being a relative term.) I happiest now when I’m in the stream of life, not hiding behind some bush from the Mack Truck barreling my way. If you’ve ever been through a depression, you know what I mean. It’s hard not to fear its strength and destructiveness. But I’m learning a new paradigm, one in which I don’t fear but rather ACCEPT what is happening inside me and trusting in the cosmos to pull me through. So far it’s working. Today was proof.