I don’t remember when I started writing this. It’s been a while. But I’ve kept it, because I wanted to remind myself that my days of depression are fleeting. And that yours can be as well. Let me know if you can relate. I’m holding out a handful of hope for you.

The not-sleeping-thing should’ve been my first warning sign, but I ignored it. Then I lost my notebook. And I lost my words. And everything moved like molasses in my brain.

Now there is today and it won’t go away. “It” being this fullness on my chest–this want to sleep the day away–hide from whatever it is that has my heart pounding like it is–my heart so fast and my brain so slow.

I haven’t felt his way in a long time… But I’ve felt this way for years. Distraction is my best friend. Distraction in writing, in singing, in doing something other than looking inside. It’s a shame that creativity necessitates introspection. That’s just my luck. So, I go looking for distraction. She either writes or runs. Today she wants to run.

She’s fighting the instinct to curl up deep down inside herself and hide…. hide where the quiet is. And where the words are. The real words. Not the other words that are made up and saved up and played up.

But the real words don’t come easy. And they don’t write easy. And they don’t read easy. The real words bring release and reflection, but introspection isn’t always the best method of chasing it all away. Sometimes it’s best to hide from what’s inside until it quiets down, chased away by sunshine and vitamins and balance.

So where do I hide?

Distraction.

There are still days, and when those days come it feels like forever. I’m so glad that it never is forever. And I’m so glad that those days don’t come nearly as often anymore.

Hope.