Life Without Bootstraps

Depression is an illness many don’t take seriously. I have tremendous admiration and respect for anyone who deals with it.
I’ve never suffered clinical depression.

I am currently suffering environmental depression. The very idea that one could exist in this state endlessly, without a way out, without a rational connection to something that is happening chemically, but exists just as viscerally, terrifies me.

This morning, having reached the end of my rope and discovering a seriously frayed and unreliable knot, I got a phone call from a friend who lives with clinical  depression and is in addiction recovery. He is one of my oldest friends, and might be the bravest person I know.  As is so often the case in moments like these, an angel whispered in his ear at exactly the right moment. He called when I needed him most.

“How do you do this every day?”

“Medication, meditation, a wing, a prayer, and really good friends,” he said.

We vented, ranted, and he did me a favor. It meant I could finish this day without dissolving into completely useless tears.  It also gave me the push I needed to get through a week that is going to SUCK. Life sometimes does, and knowing it’s coming doesn't always help. Today I can just know the suckage is headed this way.  I’ll stop whining, wipe tears that were an indulgence, and go do what needs doing. I’m lucky. I have incredible friends, and amazing man, a furry best friend who warms my knee, and bootstraps.

Tug em if you got em, kids… life without them is a lot harder.