Fightin' Words

Depression, with its iron tentacles, has pulled me under again.  I thought that since my diagnosis of clinical depression and a generalized anxiety disorder in January 2000, I had finally outrun that dark heaviness.  I had felt comparatively content for the last few years.  Anxiety still plagues me, but I had hope that since I "conquered" depression, I could vanquish my anxiety, too.  Eventually.  

Ha.  I was wrong.  Depression, that tenacious bastard, has moved in again.  I feel stalked.  

But I'm not done hoping or fighting for relief.  And that's where running comes in...  

Depression leaches all the joy out of my life.  Color is subsumed into flat gray.  But as I run, joy nudges its way back in.  I feel lighter.  I run out from under the suffocating sadness.  

Depression shouts at me that I am a loser.  Worthless.  That I can't do anything well.  But when I run, I reclaim some of the confidence that my depression claims.  I strengthen that part of me that I always like: the athlete.  The bad-ass chick that loves to run up mountains in the rain.  

Depression convinces me that I'm a failure.  At everything.  But when I run, I'm succeeding at something.  It's tangible and obvious.  Especially when I notice my progress over time.  

Depression constantly screams at me that I'm fat and ugly and therefore, totally unworthy of attention or love.  But running reminds me that even while I struggle with loving my body, my body can do some impressive things.  And I am lucky to have this body!  Paradoxically, when I am looking my "worst" (post-hard run/race) is when I feel the most beautiful.        

Bloody, battered and bruised (but so happy!) at the end of Mt. Marathon, 2012

Depression also makes me even more dramatic.  Sorry.  :)

Depression makes me feel lonely and invisible.  But when I run, and especially race, complete strangers cheer for me.  And my favorite cheerleaders are always at the finish line, if possible, to bestow hugs and kisses on my sweaty self.  They tell me they're proud of me and remind me of how much I am loved.  And then they take me out for donuts.  Suh-weet!    

At my first post-Tess race, a 5K, in August 2014.  

I love seeing these faces after my races (Maddie's too, of course!).  :)

Depression tells me that I need to make major life changes RIGHT NOW.  Luckily, that urge is usually satisfied by signing up for another race.  Phew.  Well, this round of depression also led to a new piercing.  Nothing too shocking, though.  :)  

(My next half-marathon!)

Depression tells me that life really is a big, shi*$y joke and that the only solution is to embrace bitterness and give up.  Running reminds me that I am not a quitter.  I never walk until I've crested the hill.  I don't stop running until I've crossed the finish line.  I do each and every interval, no matter how tired I am.  I am more tenacious than depression.  

At the top (finally!) of Mt. Marathon, 2012

Running saves me.  It helps to magnify my good qualities and minimize the ones I'm not proud of.  It lets a shaft of light pierce the heavy black cloud that depression drowns me in (see?  Dramatic!).  :)  

I am so grateful for my strong legs and my stubborn heart.  Good luck, depression.  You'll need it.