the way in

I went to see a dear friend today and she reminded me, as she always does, that the little struggles which sometimes threaten to overwhelm me are just that - little. No less a struggle, of course, but when kept in perspective with the great wide world and the endlessly expansive universe, hardly worth losing your head over. I am so grateful for her presence in my life, she has taken me by the hand so many times and shown me how to save myself. And every time, it seems a little harder to get lost.
Now that I'm awake again, the world seems literally buzzing with potential. Quiet, determined potential. Like the hundreds of tiny buds on our peach tree, which has for many years been my anchor. Its branches are reaching higher this year than they ever have, and it is fit to burst with impending blossom. Just to add to its mighty promise, there are three egg sacks on its branches that have been laid by praying mantis, the little holy men of the insect world, harbingers of good things and prophets of positivity. Amen to that.

truth, beauty and chaos

When I wrote about my happiness a little while ago, I mentioned (twice) that having a baby had bordered on catastrophic for my mental health. This may alarm those of you who now know that I'm pregnant with my third child, but rest assured I am not alarmed. Alert, but certainly not alarmed. There are moments, I confess, when I have a slight panic about the prospect of raising three children, of welcoming a newborn baby into our lives, which have just recently seemed to be a little smoother, in a moments-of-complete-chaos kind of way. But then I focus on why I wanted to have this baby, that feeling at my very core that believed it would be so right. It's about lots of things, but mostly it's about being true to what I believe in. Trusting myself. Sometimes when people find out my news I sense shock, or pity, or even ridicule. It's not for them to say, of course, and not for me to know if I'm just imagining it. It doesn't matter in the least when I'm focusing on the truth and beauty of the journey we're on, all the little and great things that lie within. Along with moments, I'm sure, of complete chaos. How else would we know we're alive?

the pursuit of happiness

My happiness is a work in progress. I’ve struggled with depression since I was a teenager, hit rock bottom in my early 20s just when life seemed to be giving me everything I’d ever wanted, used medication, found it didn’t have all the answers, had a baby and teetered on the edge of the abyss again, used medication again just to keep my head above water, had another baby and fell so far into the abyss I thought I might never get out, used medication as a lifeline and eventually realised that there had to be more to it than that.

So here I am, more than 18 months after pushing aside the medication option and putting everything I had into the alternative. I’ve learned more about myself in that time than I knew going into it, and while I still have my bad days, they are much less frequent and when they come I am ready for them.

I work at my happiness now, but as time goes on it takes less and less conscious effort. There are things that I know will make me happy, and not in a superficial way. They make my soul happy, and stave off the blackness. It feels like the happier my soul is, the more resistant it is to the blackness. It’s multiple coats of Teflon, every colour of the rainbow. Sometimes it helps to make a list:

1. Go outside. Feel the sun, or the wind or the rain as the case may be, on your face. It’s called nature and some days it’s your best friend.
2. Put some music on. Dance. Sing if you know the words.
3. Learn the words. To anything - Somewhere Over the Rainbow, My Favourite Things, Morningtown Ride - and sing them. Loud.
4. Write it down. All of it.

Next week I’m going to a conference in Sydney called Happiness and Its Causes, mainly because when I saw the flyer for it some months ago I just knew I had to get there somehow. So now I’m going, and I don't want to leave my family for two days and two nights but I have a feeling I will not regret it. Part of me is still frightened by the world out there but I’m on the journey now and there is no going back. Enduring stress to find happiness? Let’s just say it’s par for the course.

not drowning, wavering

I should clarify that when I say I have made a decision, it generally doesn't mean that will be the last decision on the given subject. My decision is not final. Correspondence between me and myself will frequently be entered into. So for all those who haven't long since given up caring, here is my position as of now. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.

here you come again

It comes down to this: my children deserve to have a happy mother. They deserve to see me smiling more times than not, they deserve to hear me laughing and know that all is right with the world (at least the world that exists within these four walls). I have no right to deprive them of that. So while the past weeks have not been in vain, and I have learnt a lot and am still learning how to deal with my depression, I have made a decision. Mr Zoloft, just when I'm about to make it work without you, I want you to hold my hand again.

Because today, and several times in the past couple of months, it's just too bloody hard. Right or wrong, I'm tired of having to use every fibre of my being just to be able to get out of bed. To fight for nothing more than a feeling of not being depressed for a day or two. That's the reward. Not sheer unadulterated joy or heartfelt happiness or anything remotely resembling those things. Just head-above-water. I feel like I'm trying to run a marathon but to get to the starting line I have to climb out of a forty-foot hole. Even if I get to the top, my race is already run.

So there it is. All my reasoning, and I've needed quite a bit. But ultimately I think I deserve to be happy, and that right there is a major step forward from where I was six months ago. I think I deserve it. I know my children do. And even if that's all my knowledge, it has to be enough.