trying not to drown

Scott, Kristie, & Cerenna, at the end of the party.

I've been fighting the "black dog", as Winston Churchill called it; a bit of depression has come my way. I've been battling it since I was 12, so I should be an old pro at it. When I was younger I thought I could magically cure it and it would never return. Now I've accepted that it's just part of my personality, and instead I try and focus on ways to get through it. Taking care of myself, curling up on the couch and brooding for awhile, learning something new like trying a new recipe, or listening to music. Or, when I truly can't stand myself anymore, taking a sleeping pill and sending my ass to bed. Which is what I did last night.

When I woke up this morning, I felt the dark waves rolling up to me. It would have been so much easier just to pull the covers up and lay there. But I hauled my wallowing self out of bed and started my day. Spent time on a project I took home from work, drank coffee, made some healthy, yummy snacks for Donna and my trip to Canada tomorrow.

And then I went to my neighbor Scott's 40th birthday party next door. Kristie had asked me to be the photographer for the evening, and it was hard to be down while taking pictures of kids playing and Cerenna learning how to walk. I met so many great people - holding a camera and being able to walk right up, ask people to pose, and then staying to chat is a great icebreaker.

So tonight the goal is to hold it together, battle the black dog, and go to sleep early. What would Winston do? He battled depression his whole life, too. Maybe I'll read one of his books in bed tonight.

Must think positive thoughts. Must believe. Must have hope. Must keep going.