Sometime last Summer, I saw a stupid ad on Facebook for a journal. It was almost like Facebook had my number or something, because if I have any weakness, it is for journals and stationary supplies. And Oreos, but that’s another story.
So I bought this journal, and waited a week for it to arrive. And at that point, my life was getting kind of crazy, so I just looked at the brand new journal that I had just dropped $40 on, all nice and shiny on my nightstand. Untouched.
So moving was really hard for me. Not so much the move itself, but the transition that comes with merging my life with another’s. H A R D. That coupled with being unemployed for A LOT longer than expected and planned for. And topped with castles crashing for all of the people in my life whom I love. My sense of self, the growth I’ve worked for, the emotional progress I have fought for— All gone.
I think that it was Thursday of last week that I decided to dust that journal off and put it to use. This isn’t a normal journal; it is pretty structured, and split up over a set period of time, with the expectation that it’ll be used in the morning and in the evening. Typically, this is the exact opposite of what I gravitate towards.
All of this to say this:
There has been a tremendous change in the way that we address things like depression in the last several months. Right now, if someone were to give me that standard, pro-forma questionnaire on depression, I’d fall somewhere between “should seek help” and “dear god, get this woman some help”. But I have been actively working (and struggling, tbh) towards addressing my depression in a constructive manner. I have been trying this ~new~ thing where instead of embracing that old friend known as Darkness, I have been fighting against it.
I have come to accept that I am the type of woman who needs structure and consistency and regiment. When I was younger, I was Spontaneity embodied. These days, I am the antithesis of that. And in that realization, I have begun the attempt at structuring myself through this bout of depression. So I take ten minutes or so every morning, within half an hour of waking, to fill out my journal and planner for the day. I take ten minutes or so every night before bed to jot down some thoughts about the day and to start my to-do list for the following day. I “schedule” time to be sad, if you will.
Is this a perfect solution? Hell no. It’s a laughable one. But the struggle day in and day out to barely function has me opening every single door in hopes that one will have the light at the end of the tunnel.
As we age, and become more disillusioned with things, it becomes harder and harder to find solutions to the problems that inevitably arise. We are all on the exact same journey. We all find ourselves sitting at the foot of our beds, unsure of how to. And unfortunately, we don’t all have the same doors to open for hope.
So until things either change for the better, this is the door that I’m going to keep open. And hopefully, my Type-A, insane structure will be enough to rid myself of the dark clouds that obstruct everything past the foot of my bed.