Recently, I saw a devastatingly phenomenal film, All of Us Strangers. It was powerful for me on so many levels. The lead character, the story, the backstory, the trajectory, the journey….Everything about it touched me so deeply. It reached all of my most vulnerable places and has taken up residence in my mind, heart, and soul.

I am learning something new.

As someone who has lived with depression all of my life, the concept of “sadness,” just sadness, and grieving, without sliding down into the abyss of the darkness….This is a whole new experience.

It happened again.

I sat down. And I couldn’t get up.

Well, let’s be honest. Of course, I could get up. I’m not physically incapable of getting back up.

However, there’s a difference between being physically capable and feeling emotionally immobilized.

Here we go….

Whatever you are feeling is completely acceptable.

If you want to cry, scream, laugh, rage, hide, smile, remember or forget.

It’s all acceptable.

Someone recently shared a meme with me. It showed a heart walking along the road carrying a big burden labeled, “past trauma.”

Wistful

It’s that time of year.

Actually, for me, that time of year starts around early September. That time of year that I can only identify as….Wistful.

There is a Buddhist story about a monk who wants to find a quiet place to meditate. After failing to find a quiet enough spot, he decides to get in a boat and go out onto the lake. No one else was around so he was sure he would finally be able to have some peace and quiet to meditate.

As I talked to myself, while washing dishes, something was said by someone that I thought was me. It didn’t sound like me, though. What that voice said was something that I had never said before. Something I did not even know that I knew.

When I first moved to Anchorage, Alaska, I was hired on at The Alaska Zoo as a gardener. Anyone who knows me would laugh at that. I know nothing about plants, flowers, or anything related to gardening!

Seven years ago today, on August 6, my buddy Carl graduated from Earth School. Leaving me without my Guardian, my Brother, one of my great Loves.

About six weeks ago, I decided to start a podcast to talk about how I live with depression. It has been a life-long companion, roommate, bully, and teacher. Choosing to talk about it, and how I have learned to navigate my life alongside it, seemed like a great idea. I could share my stories. I could help people. It’ll be awesome.

And then it came time to actually tell the stories.

Two days ago, I was expecting something delivered to my home. I was asked to wait outside because my house has no visible address on it.

I stepped outside my front door, phone in my hand, to watch for the delivery.

The night my Dad died, he was playing tennis. It was totally unexpected. My mom got a call that something had happened and she ran out of the house to find him.

My sister and I waited at home.

When my mom returned home, she came through the front door and walked right past us. We followed her to the dining room. She turned, leaned against the wall, put her arms up into a shrug and, through tears, said, “He’s gone.”

I was twelve.

I have lived with depression the entire 57 years of my life on this planet.

So, I started a podcast. Because, here’s the thing:

It’s the message that is important.

During my time working with a theatre company, I developed a modified version of the children’s game “Red Light, Green Light.” I used it with adults as part of an acting exercise.

Picture a grandfather clock. Tall, stately, with a swinging pendulum inside the glass door. The pendulum swings consistently, calmly, without emotion or opinion. We pull the chains to wind the clock and the pendulum responds. Always.

Richard Rohr wrote, “All loves are a school of love.”

I cannot even imagine a statement more true. For me, anyway.

As I sit with that concept and reflect on my past, two loves come to mind. Well, two human loves, because Maddie, my dog, is the best teacher of love there could ever be for me.

Living with depression is just that: Living WITH it.

Just like any other “chronic condition,” it is not about the suffering or the struggling or the victimization. It is about the Living with.

When we are dealing with physical pain — chronic, tormenting, persistent — it can be difficult to function. To pay attention, to focus, to organize our thoughts. And if you’re someone like me — who is also battling depression on a moment-to-moment basis — adding pain on top of that is kind of a nightmare scenario.