for me, depression runs as deep as the veins i used to access to bleed.

you see, i used to cut myself. it started while i was a teenager and ended while i was a teenager.

i have had intense emotions as long as i can remember (too intense if you ask me.) i would be fine one minute and enveloped by a dark cloud the next, and no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't escape them. and oh, did i ever want to escape them.

and so i cut myself. not anywhere noticeable; i was petrified of someone finding out. i didn't want to die, either, so i was very careful as to how deep i cut. but i did it, and the pain i felt with each slit was enough to take the focus off of the indescribable emotional pain i was in. at least, temporarily.

to my horror, my mom clued in one day. mother's intuition i guess. she stood outside my very locked bathroom door and begged me not to hurt myself. i told her that i would stop if she went downstairs so i didn't have to look her in the eye on my way back to my room, which she did, and i haven't done it since. the pain i caused her that day (i can still hear it in her voice) was enough for me to stop hurting myself, too.

and so i banged away on the drum kit my uncle gave me instead (which caused my mom a whole different kind of pain.) any time i was feeling intense emotion, i would go downstairs to my dungeon of a basement and let it all out on the toms. this very drum-kit carried me through some really rough patches.

a few short years later, i went to follow the Lord's call on my life and moved away drum-kit less. to my dismay, these damn emotions followed me, forcing me to explore and exhaust other ways in which i could cope. i tried meds, counselling and exercise. i've cried and journalled and reached out to friends, read the Bible for comfort and prayed for peace. sometimes, some of this stuff worked, and sometimes it didn't. mental illness can't be put in a box, after all. in fact, not much can.

and so here i am again.

everything was 'fine' a few weeks a go; i was getting out of bed every day and functioning well. battled then (and have been battling) what i think to be a mid-life crisis, but i didn't feel like i was suffocating like i do today. when you're depressed, it's hard to breathe, and oh what i would do to be able to breathe.

of course, there are moments where i'm able to find some reprieve. moments where i get invited to a lake for the weekend and get to spend it amidst beautiful creation and safe people or get a chance to share a meal with some new friends.

or times like yesterday where although it took everything in me to make it to work, i was greeted by a good friend who took me away from my desk long enough to listen, hug me and pray with me as i released some of my pain through tears. (i don't know if she will ever know how much that helped me get through another day.)

today hasn't been as successful as yesterday, however. it started it off by me cancelling a few meetings i didn't have the mental capacity for, but since then i have managed to force myself out of bed (albeit at 1:00pm), have a shower and go for a walk to the store to get milk, so i guess i'm not doing too badly after all. with depression, sometimes the smallest victories can seem like a big fat win!