The gymnasium at a Catholic school I used to attend had this thick old rope that hung from a dusty rafter in the ceiling. In the six years I attended this school I once had the opportunity to climb it. Foam mats were arranged under it to convince those who attempted this challenge of some sort of safety. One by one, each participant took their turn. Some made it to the top of the rope and an echoing slap on the rafter became a symbol of celebrated achievement. Others did not make it this far, and I was one of them. I approached the rope with excitement, took the bristled old thing in my hands with confidence, and ascended. It wasn't a particularly difficult task. I climbed with ease until the rafter was only just out of my arm's reach. I could have gone further, but one thought stopped me: What's the point? Amidst the encouragement of my peers, I looked down at the gym teacher, shrugged, and gently made my way back to the ground.
Living with depression is a lot like climbing that old rope. I find myself in everyday situations I can't see to completion because of self doubt, unnecessary fear, or difficulty seeing the purpose behind it. Problems with ordinary, simple solutions become tedious or even daunting obstacles. The mental fatigue translates physically and I can feel everything around me slow down. Every action I take, even slightly, pushes against me as if I am moving through water. Sleep becomes a frequent escape, and other sedentary behavior only keeps me wading in pools of guilt and melancholy.
Depression can act like a pair of goggles, allowing me to see only a monochromatic version of a reality. In this lens, my self-concept is deluded. Negative aspects of myself and others are the most obvious because with this way of seeing, things that would normally signal satisfaction are transparent. Often in social situations I am overcome with anguish as my mind stubs its toe against some bad memory (or for no apparent reason at all). Isolating myself from others proves most effective in attempts to avoid these situations, though it doesn't ease the difficulty of wearing the goggles.
Seeking therapy is by far the best decision I have made in order to inspire balance in a tense relationship between my attitude and aptitude for living a healthy life. It gives me tools to maintain a positive self image, create meaningful connections with others, and continues to teach me how to lift that bluish haze called depression. It may never be something I can outgrow, but I have no reason to give up on the quest to manage it.
