It is often called mental health days, emotional well-being, and in reality it is debilitating and dark. Maybe it was the eclipse portal, the infamous Saturn return I am inside of, or simply depression come a-knocking. No matter — it took me out for 48 hours. In the past it has been much longer, and each time now, I simply say hello, what do you have for me?
It was like an old friend coming for a visit, maybe not the one you clean the house for, but the one you welcome because if you lock the door they will come through the window they know isn’t locked. They don’t take their shoes off like you prefer, and they talk with food in their mouth. However, the truth of things finds a way in and softens the edges, and it awaits the mycelium of your fabric. Reminding you that you are as much a part of the forest floor as the human networks you move within.
The remembering of the forest floor allowed space between the heaviness of this depression this friend brought with them. They didn’t mind us looking at this from various viewpoints, but never let me leave from under the rock until I was open and willing to experience the deep stillness alongside the deep disruption, all at once. My pivot to positivity, or the invitation to share a glass of wine, were rebuked, and the inner pressure became more, not less. There was no offer from this old friend to lighten the load, as they helped themselves to the food in the fridge.
So in I went, along a spiral, feeling this rock, this heaviness, this desire to sleep through it all from all angles and levels. I get nausea on rides at the carnival, and this was no different. I was crying to get off, the snot flowing across my lips, the saltiness adding to the open wound. The anger, the feeling of death that was sure to come if I let go and simply joined the water under the rock. I have heard so many times, be like water — Bruce Lee made it a slogan. However, the truth is that allowing the dissolution of something into the water, not knowing where it goes or what it becomes, is as close to letting go as it gets.
Acknowledged or not, we all have our forest floor, desert, ocean — pick your place. This isn’t unique to any one of us, although the path and name of our old friend may look and be different. We are all interconnected along the mycelium floor. It does feel like we are living in extraordinary times, but I have wondered — haven’t others felt that way too, for their time here. In the end it doesn’t really matter, in a world where we want everything to mean something, have a reason.
This friend of mine, who knows where all the unlocked windows and cracks in my foundation are, has come for much longer stays than 48 hours. One time they showed up with a suitcase. I tried to lock the deadbolt, but had forgotten about the hatchway door being unlocked. They never offer help, simply witness the process being experienced. I have tried to skip it so many times, only to have them revisit at more inopportune times. I have called for help at times. My best friend Yaya (my dog) doesn’t bark when this friend comes — she simply stays by my side until they leave. They get along well; my old friend often offers her snacks. Other times I have invited a loved one in without tidying up before they came, and simply asked for them to listen, so the craziness I felt in my head and heart could find release. For some of the longer visits, I have invited strangers into the cobweb-ridden rooms with me, to offer a new perspective and resources I did not have access to.
I want to share a few things I have learned from these visits. They are here to serve me, to have me look at something I wasn’t willing or able to before the visit. I have also learned that the negative voices are not true or false — they are for exploration, and each one is asking for something. More often than not, for me it ends up with a thank you — that may have served me at one point, but it no longer does, you are free to go. When I was first taught this way of relating to this inner experience, I used it like a sword, wild and fearless. Over time it has come with much more tenderness and grace.
This friend of mine, depression, has been a tumultuous one at best. While I no longer dread their arrival, I do take it seriously and resource myself accordingly — if I see a suitcase, I ask for help quickly. I no longer wear the mask of success to cover the truth of struggle, or the one of perfection in the desire for acceptance. This space is messy and magical, and holding both loosely is what I find to be the calling of being human. It allows us to spiral in a way that honors who we have been and who we are becoming.
I am no longer the one holding. I am the one releasing.
If you’re struggling right now, please don’t carry it alone — reach out to a friend, a doctor, or a crisis line. You deserve support, not just survival.
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I'm pretty lucky. I've only felt that kind of feeling one time and it was fleeting. It lasted for only a few minutes. The day I was diagnosed with cancer. It left quickly when my partner took me by the hand a simply said "we'll do this together ". And we did. Just like the other ups and downs we went through in 50+ years of being together. Hard to believe if you know me at all that I was lost for words. I listened. She talked. We dealt with it. I got to ring the bell. I'm pretty lucky.
I have a friend who struggles, at first so hard to understand but with waiting patiently, trying to - I realized I can't but I can just be there when needed.