Well… nothing really. Except for a pulled knee everything was normal. I ate food, met with friends, swam in the ocean, went to the gym, journalled, and worked as best I could (until the end of the week when the walls began to close in).

This is what having a mental illness looks like sometimes. Without any identifiable reason I simply became depressed for a week. Duration is critical, extend that line another five days down and I am in real trouble!

That is what would happen in the past – short depressive episodes triggering months/years of feeling down, like this:

• Feeling depressed in the moment would cause me to abandon what made me feel good (because I was incapable of feeling good so what was the point, right?).
• Embracing the disquieting inertia and numbness, I would burrow further into the “comfort” of unfeeling and isolation.
• Passions and responsibilities were put on ice to wait for the sun (backsliding).
• Hey presto, a dark week has now become my personal ice-age.

In short, a terrible way to bake a cake.

A better recipe: hold onto buoyancy even if you don’t feel buoyant.

This means glum walks around the block, uninspired trips to the gym, half-hearted patting of dogs, cooking tiresome and tasteless meals. It sure feels like going through the motions… but the motions still put helium in the balloon, even (especially) if you hardly notice it.

Then one Sunday afternoon a bunch of happy beach kids will challenge you to a cartwheel-off and whoosh!!