Just keep going
“You haven’t thought of harming yourself?” the nurse asked with furrowed brow as she reviewed my questionnaire.
“No,” I said, smiling. “I’m depressed now, but I’m not at risk. I understand what this is and why it is, so I don’t put much stock in it.”
“I wish it were like that with me,” she replied.
“It took me lots of time.”
There have been many days during this pregnancy that I have wanted to hide in darkness and emerge only for birth.
I get up because I know the rent won’t pay itself. Insurance most assuredly will not pay for itself. My son won’t be able to get himself ready for and driven to preschool. Food won’t cook itself, nor dishes wash themselves, nor the dog walk himself.
I used to loathe obligations. I wanted freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, with no strings attached. Ever.
The problem with living no strings attached is disconnection–from life, from love, from the goodness that shines from the hearts of many.
When I feel depression creeping over me these days, I take that as a sign I absolutely must not withdraw. Once withdrawn, a slight removal becomes a free fall of disconnection so much harder to break. Instead I embrace the things that bind me to this world, knowing these very things will be the threads that eventually lead me back to the light.
In the meantime, I keep going knowing that light will return. It always does. For now, from the darkness, I have to do this one thing, which only looks like many smaller things: