Small Victories

For weeks, I've been whispering to myself "small victories" whenever I catch myself accomplishing something not particularly extraordinary, but nonetheless a victory for me.

• Having a client rate my material. 
• Realizing a new success at my day job. 
• Finding out I overpaid my gas and electric by so much I won't owe either for at least two months. 
• Thinking I ate crap all day, only to realize I still maintained my nutritional goals. 
• Getting some amazing sleep that's been much needed
• Maintaining my responsibilities while balancing my friendships. 

Nothing has been worth memorializing. Nothing has been much more than what I could expect any day. But, as I am one to openly discuss my symptoms and whatnot, it's the small victories like these that got me back again after two weeks of debilitating depression. After family and friends showed very real concern, to the point where I felt pressure from not only them but myself to seriously consider immediate professional interference. It was like there was no light, just darkness, and therefore no bright side to look for. I tried to keep my head up the way I normally do, but this depression wasn't going down that easy. It was a monster set out to devour me whole. Circumstances leading to it had made me feel betrayed, lost, hopeless. And that just isn't me. I don't like feeling that way, as much as it may be understandable. I don't like holding grudges or being angry, I'd rather forgive. I don't like feeling uncertainty and despaired, I'd rather feel confident and eager. While I overcame the betrayal, I couldn't quite shake the rest. Slowly, I sunk further. Not leaving my house and turning off my phone, even though I had made plans. I just sat. I didn't really cry during the day. I didn't really do anything. I just sat. No TV. No radio. I just stared off. And then, although I wasn't tired, I would go to bed, convincing myself it is an acceptable time to turn off my head for a while. Only then would I cry. And it wouldn't stop. For two weeks this routine went on. Stare blankly, crawl in bed, cry until 2am, wake up at 6, repeat. Though every other method to pull myself out that usually worked had failed, I kept whispering "small victories" . Not just in my head, I whispered it out loud. And seeing it now, that's really all living with mental illness is. A series of small victories helping you to overcome your greatest obstacle.

Thank you to those who provided me with such tremendous support throughout. I know how difficult and draining it is for me when I fall into depression, and I can't imagine how helpless and confusing it must be for you all. Even though it sometimes didn't seem like I was hearing you, I always was. Your kindness and love is no small victory. It is an immeasurable triumph that I am far too proud to have won.