A clear path

Snowy Sunrise

I’ve been plugging along. Taking care of myself. Not fighting the depression, because fighting doesn’t help me. It’s more of a quiet acceptance, coupled with forward motion toward health. It’s exhausting trying to fight it. More exhausting even than the actual depths of depression. So, I move about my days looking for small victories.

A day without tears.
An afternoon that I don’t snap at the kiddo.
An hour that I laugh more than I cry.

I lower the bar for myself. I usually operate with such high standards that it’s hard for me to let go of so much and just be. Because just being is enough. I try to treat myself with the kindness I would offer a friend who felt like this. I go through my “to do” list and delete mercilessly. I prioritize my child, my husband, my health. That’s it.

Part of my march toward health is an actual march. I’ve been walking 5 days a week with a dear friend for over two years. She comes and faithfully drags my butt outside. She patiently walks slower than usual when I’m not up to our normal quick clip. She listens when I rant. And, I do the same for her when I’m on my game. She’s a sister to me.

So, we’re out walking last week and she tells me about this crazy dream she’d had the night before.

She went outside to check on her chickens and was overwhelmed by what she saw. Put simply, she saw shit. Piles of it. Small shit, big shit. Buckets of shit all over the place in her yard. A steaming pile of elephant shit. Dung everywhere. She was completely surrounded. She couldn’t believe someone would come to her yard, her home and leave so much crap in her path. Everywhere she looked, there was shit. Just as she was going to back away and hide inside, she realized something so important. She looked out and saw that her sidewalk was completely clear.

Despite all of the crap that had been thrown at her, she had a clear path straight ahead.

“It was so real, Carrie. I was convinced I would find piles of shit along my sidewalk when I went outside after I woke up.” But in the end, even if it HAD been real, she had the presence of mind to see a way out. . . to notice that not all ways were blocked.

I was gobsmacked by this image. A clear path. It loosened something in me. . . cracked a little bit of the hold I’ve been under. And, I laughed. I mean, I really laughed. My friend giggled too. And we walked through a windy day and waved at the same people we pass every day and I thought:

I can focus on the crap, or I can focus on the path.

Knowing what’s best for me doesn’t change the chemical imbalance that happens with depression, but it DOES help me lose a bit of the feeling that I’m completely helpless.

I’m feeling better. I still want to rent all of the horror movies and buy all of the skittles, but I am on the right path. I see light ahead and humor and love.

And, I’m full of gratitude.