Depression isn’t a glorified heroic battle for my sanity. Instead, it meant not getting out of bed for days because I couldn’t bear the thought of moving my lifeless body, refusing to believe it wouldn’t shatter upon impact with the floor. Sometimes it was digging to find the willpower to go downstairs and make a bowl of soup or do a load of laundry and that was the most impressive thing that got accomplished that week. Sometimes it meant lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours on end because the ceiling over me was the only thing protecting me from the outside world. Sometimes it meant that every bone in my body ached and the thought of moving it brought me to tears.
It wasn’t drinking coffee with shaky hands knowing things would get better; it was hoping they would get better. It wasn’t getting a good night’s sleep and feeling well rested upon waking up the next day. It was not a book store visit where I met the love of my life and they somehow put the broken pieces back together and I was whole again. Instead, it was tear stained pillows and trash covering my room because the thought of cleaning it made me sick. It was a pill when I woke up and a fake smile plastered on my face. It was slow cluttered traffic in my brain while I was spinning in circles trying to find the next exit but I was stuck. It was therapy. It was telling my friends I was busy when in all reality I couldn’t handle the thought of leaving the house. It was missed calls and unanswered texts. It was losing ‘me’ along the way and not knowing which way was up.
But I found myself again one morning when I forced myself out of bed and opened the window and smelled the fresh air. I ran outside and danced under the sun and nothing had felt that warm in a long time. The rays on my skin and the grass beneath my feet–nothing had felt that normal in so long. I found myself in the books I read and the music I listened to. It was walking in the woods and witnessing the sun going to sleep. And when the sun rose the next day, I found myself waking up even earlier just to get a better view. I found myself while pacing down the open roads in the middle of the night with the windows down and music blaring. I found myself while tracing back my footprints and listening to the waters rush along the rivers. I laughed under the stars and remembered that the world is much bigger than I am and there is so much more out there than I had experienced in my few short years here. And I thought to myself “I’m going to be alright.” I found the warmth of living and breathing again. I found the person I was before I realized that bruises weren’t just physical. I found the person who still believed that life is good.
And that’s just it. One day you realize. You will realize and you’ll look back at the times you thought you couldn’t possibly go on and realize you could. It always gets harder before it gets better, but it will get better. And you may have days again where you think you can’t take another step, but I promise you can. I promise you that these storms are only trying to wash you clean.