Down the Rabbit Hole

Shadows

I'm not, by my ready admission, an overtly positive person. I have total respect for those people who live their lives perpetually hopeful and with an unflinching positive outlook. I think its commendable to always see the silver lining and to live in a world tinted with that particular rosy hue. I am not one of those people. On the other hand, I'm not wholly negative either. In my most honest hours of self examination, I would be forced to label myself as more of a realist with a mild tendency to catastrophize when depressed. I can also admit, I get depressed more frequently than other people and that this depression is likely chronic and hereditary. My catalyst is usually fatigue brought on by letting myself burn out or from some type of physical weakness brought on by a lingering sickness. I can feel it snaking through my system, the doubts and anxiety building behind the walls of my mind. I crave sleep, grow irritable and moody. I begin to examine every aspect of my life with a hyper, critical and unforgiving eye. I exacerbate my shortcomings and punish myself for routine mistakes. I become careless and I'm prone to fits of selfishness and self-pity.
I've been to counseling, to help me recognize the signs and develop methods for working through these days when it feels like I'm being stalked by my own dark shadow. I've never elected to pursue a pharmaceutical remedy, I don't believe mood stabilizing drugs are meant for me. I don't have the type of depression that is incapacitating enough to warrant that route. I can usually work myself up and out of the foulness within a few days. It can be a bad few days however, worse for those closest to me. My depression manifests itself as me being deeply sad, withdrawn and uncommunicative. My anxiety intensifies and I become self-concious and worrisome. I supposed in many ways I become as intolerable a person, a friend, a partner as I could possibly be. I perpetuate my own isolation and then feel alone and isolated, an island of pain and loss. I can feel the storm brewing and by the time I get swept up into it, I no longer have the energy to care about explaining it all.
This morning I was reminded that I was "doing this to myself" and sometimes a statement like that is all it takes to force me to grab a hold of something solid. Writing is another poweful weapon I've learned to use. I am never more honest with myself than when I am writing, sometimes that is both a wonderful blessing and a curse. A good blog or journal session can often help me turn things around. It helps me battle back the tide of depression and I can almost feel it lifting like a fog off my spirit. If I read through my journal entries I can clearly see those days of darkness represented in electronic ink as well as those entries where I've regained my foothold and I've gotten myself back on track.
The truth is, I'd like to be more positive. I'd like to have less and less of those days of letting depression creep in and jeopordize my health and my happiness. I know its much better than it used to be. I know I'm happier and stronger now than I've perhaps ever been. I know I have a better grasp of self-understanding. Everyone has bad days and as long as I can keep those bad days from stretching into weeks, I'm doing okay. As long as I can have a bad mood or two without bringing the world down around me, I'm on top of it. As long as I've got people who can give me a reality check and who care enough to remind me that I have control, I can pull myself back out of the shadows that still threaten me from the broken corners of my spirit.