Today is an Ugly Day

Ok, so maybe that's a slightly misleading title for my blog.

No, today was not ugly.  It was actually a rather beautiful 70 and sunny.  I woke up at 9, got my hair cut, picked up some sanding sponges, varnish, and brushes and worked on my new coat rack for an hour.  I then completed days 3 and 4 of my 30 day Buns, Guns, & Abs challenge before going for a swim at the gym, where I found out that I'd lost 6 pounds since finals ended.

The point is, this should have been a beautiful day.  So why was it ugly?

New readers to the blog: Welcome to where Sara tries to explain depression in a way that seems all-encompassing even though she's really not trained for it.

Ugly days happen.

We all get them.

That day that those jeans don't fit right or you wake up with a major case of bed head.
Those days when the girl or guy you've been trying to get to notice you still hasn't taken the hint.
The weekend after you somehow pulled off the biggest presentation of your career and yet no one even seemed to recognize the work you did.

Just those days when you feel ugly, think ugly, can't get out of "Ugly".  When your best isn't good enough and progress is seemingly marked by dripping molasses, only you can't see where it comes from and you can't know where it goes to.

These are the days when the fight is harder, the self doubt is more suffocating, the second guessing more costly (I spent way more than I should have on that varnish...).

There is a trend going around. #100HappyDays  The idea behind it is wonderful: Focus on the good stuff to remind yourself that, when there is bad stuff, it won't last all that long.  But sometimes we're so focused on trying to be happy that we forget what contentment is.

That is the cause of Ugly Days.  I have forgotten what contentment felt like.  I had forgotten to be me enough to be proud of me for what I'd done, not what I had done in comparison to someone else.  I recently started a DIY coat rack project.  It doesn't matter that someone else has finished one and it looks freaking amazing (http://knockoffdecor.com/), but I have forgotten to be proud of my initiative.

Sometimes, in an active and all-sharing online culture such as ours, it's too easy to see other people being absolutely amazing and getting recognized for it and then fall into a pit of apathetic worthlessness.

But I'm not apathetic.
I'm not worthless.

And better yet: you are not apathetic.
You are not worthless.

We can be content in ourselves.  Maybe we're not happy with the finished product, but we can be content enough to rest and tackle the next challenge when we're ready.

And that's all I can do for today.  So friends,  I will be content with myself for the evening and tomorrow, I will face new challenges when I am ready.

It's OK to have an Ugly Day.  Just put it to bed with the sun and wake up to a new tomorrow.

Goodnight all!

I Suffer From Depression

It's been a tough month guys.  My Grammy died just before the 4th of July (American Independence Day for any readers not native to the U.S.) and my great-aunt died shortly before her.  Not only that, but I have been on a jury for the past week and will continue to sit on it for a few more days and, while I can't say anything about the case itself until it's concluded (and I assure you, there will be a blog about my experience, like it or not), it has been a really tough trial, with allegations including kidnapping and rape.  Suffice it to say that my life is not exactly cheery at the moment.

Anyone who has read my blog before knows that I have had experience with depression.  I've said it before: Depression never fully goes away.  It'll dissipate for a long span but, when I think it's finally gone, and that I've finally beaten it, something will trigger a relapse and I go back to feeling worthless, empty, and worst of all (for me anyway) apathetic. Times like I have currently been dealing with do not, as you can imagine, make things any easier.

At one point in my depression I was, like Mr. Kevin Breel in the video below, suicidal to the point of sitting on a cold bathroom floor with a bottle of pills in my hand.  I didn't go through with it.  I was, as Breel says, "one of the lucky ones who went up to the edge but didn't jump."  And, also like Breel, I would be remiss if I said that I had not thought about suicide again.  But going to the edge, seeing the long and scary drop, has only made me stronger and I know that, having beaten it back once, I can beat it again and again and again.

Kevin Breel's words are poetic, succinct, and hopeful.  They provide understanding for those who have not ever suffered from the debilitating hopelessness that is depression.  They provide comfort and strength for those who have.  They are a call to action by those who are able and a call for relief to those who have been fighting the battle alone for so long.  We are not alone.  We don't have to be ashamed.  We are going to be OK.