Just Keep Your Head Above ... Swim.

I didn't think I could escape my depression. I didn't think putting five states in between me and my past would change the chemical make up of my brain. I think I was just so distracted by new adventures and meeting wonderful new people to realize I was still walking on a shaking ground. This past January, as the past two Januaries have been, a dark film got pulled down around me, and my body started to weigh heavy. The same girl that would jump out of bed in the morning to soak in sunshine before going to work was struggling to get out of bed. I opened the windows, though. I don't think any amount of anxiety or depression could stop how much I love the smell of the air here. But that was the most I could really do for myself. Correction: that's the most I can really do for myself. I'm in it again, and though I know it will come to an end, it doesn't make it any less exhausting.

It's hard to be in a place where people's perception of you is based off of your cheery disposition in a bar, or your laugh at a comedy show, or the way you smile at the little kids that come into work more excited about cupcakes than any adult you have ever seen in your life. I'm depressed, I'm not dead. The times that I appear to be happy, I'm usually happy. Enjoying myself, absorbing all the experiences and stories of the strangers around me. I can come off as perfectly fine, while inside maintaining an inability to want to keep fighting It takes me back to a time before people knew I suffered from clinical depression. You know, when I was 18. So some of my actions just come off as erratic because the disorder doesn't fit the girl.

It occurred to me how little LA knew about me when I walked into work the other day and said "I am so happy I made it to work on time." Something I had failed to do my last 3 previous shifts. And my boss immediately turned to me with sarcasm in her voice saying "Coming to work on time? That's your big accomplishment for the day?" Yes. Yes it was. And not walking out of my job after that comment was the second biggest accomplishment for the day. I don't think I appreciated how much I was supported and loved back home. I like to think I did. That I said thank you as much as possible. That I framed phrases that could accurately communicate the fact that I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for my friends and family. I could pick up the phone anytime at my last job and with my voice shaking from holding back tears explain to Julie I couldn't come in that day. Or I was going to be late. And instead of getting frustrated with me she would commend my ability to call and communicate my struggles as opposed to hiding and running like I am so used to do it. The people here don't know to be proud of me for coming to work on time, because they don't know how much my heart and head ache every day.

I am still on medication. I had a great doctor back in Aurora who made sure to give me enough refill prescriptions to get me by until my insurance kicks in. And I made the effort of calling counseling centers today to talk with someone while I wait to be able to find a new doctor out here. Like I said, I know how this goes. I know that this ends. I know that I am this self aware enough of what I need to do to manage this and get through it to not take action. As hard as it is, as little as I want to. Want to know the worst part? Part of me misses that time before I understood my depression. Because then I wouldn't have the responsibility of doing something about it. Be ignorant to how or why my brain worked this way. Because then I wouldn't have to wage a war in my head every god damn day.

I moved across the county. I packed up my cat and flew away to make my dreams come true. They are coming true. I am grateful for the journey and I discover every day a new strength I have that I didn't know of the day before. But I'm still depressed. I still don't think very highly of myself. I still accidentally fall into bed with someone with the hopes that those few hours of validation with shake me out of myself. They don't. They never will. No man, no job, no state, no weather, no millions and millions of grains of sand under my feet will have a greater effect on me than my own sick mind. But you don't get to give up. You just have to keep going.