It’s only in looking back that I realise I was depressed these past months.
It’s only in looking back that not wanting anything more than sleeping on the weekends seems like a clue to a low mood.
It’s only in looking back that finding myself unable to work on my book or rejoin the choir seems telling and weeks of easy tears seem abnormal.
I think when you’re depressed it’s easy to miss it, even when you have a history. Maybe because you have a history. A little depression is just a common state of mind, so who’s to say when it is becoming a problem, when it is becoming “clinical.”
But today I went for a walk, even a little run; I enjoyed becoming breathless – it didn’t take much. I raised my face to the sun and my arms to the wind. I spread the fingers of my hands and felt the air between each one. I felt myself opening up, and wondered – not for the first time – where have I been?