I dropped from a 16 to 11 on the app that tests for mood. That’s between last July and now, which as it’s defined by the app (hopefully designed by smart people, who the hell knows), suggests that I’ve gone from “moderately severe depression” to “moderate depression.” I feel much better than those five points would suggest. After so many years of battling with it, and always maxing out the numbers, it’s hard to explain how glorious it is to be consistently happier. Like, people wake up like that every day?
My chemicals were so messed up for so long, it’s hard to describe, more so now that everything has changed. Depression feels like someone beloved has just died, all day every day – that fresh, raw kind of pain. And panic attacks are like being afraid of heights and jumping out of an airplane, but a sustained rush of that feeling. People can’t see how difficult it is to manage, much less to thrive. I feel wildly victorious and bubbly happy when I’m doing well, because I have beaten back the wolves, even if no one else can see or appreciate the hard won victory. And holy shit they seem to have fully retreated, it’s so wonderful. I can still hear them howling in the moonlight, so to speak, but from a good distance.
Goals today: hard workout at gym class (done), shopping for weekly fresh veggies, paperwork, writing overdue article, running out that edge of anxiety that’s destroying my sleep. Then sewing projects. Phew. Love to all.
Go – Chemical Brothers