My absence

One of the hardest things I have ever had to face in life is depression. I seem to always embody a positive attitude externally no matter what is happening inside. I have taught myself to suppress fear, panic or any display of stress; so much so that I often do not recognize my own stress. But sometimes it goes too far. About a year ago today I started having difficulty breathing every time I exercised and it took me months to even realize that it was the result of panic. Though my body constantly goes in to fight or flight responses, that are so significant that I have difficulty breathing, I rarely feel fear itself. It has taken me about six months to even recognize that I was panicking and even longer to except it as truth. Enduring hardship has become second nature and it has become difficult to even grasp that I am having problems.

This is both a godsend and a terrible problem. It seems that I usually recognize emotional issues when they are far too severe. This is what has happened recently. I don’t know why nor do I care. But for the past few months life’s little curve balls have been difficult to deal with. I began to repeatedly imagine death at my own hand. Things got really low for me no matter how good life was going. I would try and try to put on a happy face but when the slightest problem would arise all I could do was wish to end it all.

Something needed to change. I put some non essential things on hold (namely this blog and some of the incomplete assignments I had to make up from last semester) and I began to be brutally honest with myself and my therapist. I felt and at times still feel a great bit of shame about this depression but I have discovered something amazing. Though I felt like people would think less of me for telling them this I have found the opposite to be true. My therapist explained to me that suicidal ideation was a natural physiological response to depression caused by trauma. I felt compelled to share this with Rachel and was terribly frightened that she would be ashamed of me. To my surprise she was only sympathetic and supportive. The whole process only strengthened my resolve.

Still despite this my refuge has been the trails and the gym. I know that I will never actually hurt myself but I have been murdering myself in the gym. I have set new personal bests rowing and on the Stairmaster and have finally began to improve my speed when running. I am on track physically to get back into my prime again. Pushing yourself to the next level is similar to depression. To get past it you need to recognize how much it sucks, accept it and push past it. It always seems to me like a weaker part of me is left behind. Making the body stronger naturally helps the psyche.

More importantly becoming a stronger endurance athlete helps me understand that I may not have ability that I once had. But that I can make myself better every day and though I may never be who I was before I can still be who I want to be. It makes short term memory, constant migraines, and the simple fact that when my excited puppy accidently pommels my forehead with insanely hard head (causing me to be dizzy, nauseous and giving me a terrible headache) easy to take. I can’t and will never be able to take these problems away. But I can still accomplish all my goals if I focus on what I can improve and rather than on what I can’t.