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| Photo Credit - Brandon Scharr |
I recently had an unexpected and unwelcome house guest. He signaled his arrival in his usual obnoxiously intrusive manner—relentlessly ringing my doorbell and demanding immediate entrance. When I opened the door and witnessed his all too familiar maniacal grin, I was filled with exasperation coupled with a severe reluctance to let him enter.
His name is Depression. He has visited several times. Always uninvited and leaving a trail of disorder and ruin.
The battle of wits between Depression and me, and his unwelcome visits, has always been an intense struggle. I stand on one side, a strong and determined individual who has spent years developing my mental and emotional fortitude. On the other side, Depression, a cunning and insidious enemy who has plagued me for years.
Now, there he stood, again, on my porch with his oversized bags of anxiety, hopelessness, pain, exhaustion, and despair. He forced his way into my foyer pushing past me, attempting to throw his filthy, tattered baggage at me, which I refused to intercept. Noticing my lack of hospitality, he looked at me curiously, squinting his eyes, and slowly advanced his ugly visage closer to my face. I stood steadfast, unaffected by his bullish nature and stared back with an unwavering intensity that unnerved him. He cocked his head and grunted, sizing me up. “What, no welcome back?” he sarcastically chided. Depression could sense there was something different about me this time. He seemed excited about the challenge I was presenting yet uneasy about the position of authority I was exuding.
I pointed my finger to the right and signaled him to the living room. He looked surprised by the intensity of my command. He slowly and cautiously lumbered to the couch, never taking his eyes off me. “Sit,” I instructed. He sat deliberately with measured curiosity in this transfer of power being skillfully played out. I promptly sat down beside him, ignoring his snarls and attempts to intimidate me with his size and presence. I boldly locked eyes with him. He grimaced slightly and readied himself for my next move, and we took a collective breath.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” I began. “It’s clear we’ll be coexisting in the same space for the next several weeks; however, this is MY house and there are rules of engagement you will abide by while here.” Depression folded his arms and smirked, as if to say, “Oh, this is going to be entertaining.” “We’ve done this dance before,” I continued, “but, I’ll be leading the steps this time.”
“You can take the downstairs guest room. The reason is twofold: First, my bedroom is off-limits. It is my sanctuary from the stresses of the day. It is where I begin and end my day. You will not be allowed to determine the outlook at the start of my morning or torment my thoughts at night with your relentless mental overplay and anxiety. Second, I want you as far away from me as possible while you’re here.”
Depression became angry at my cold hospitality and started to lean in toward me. I put my finger up to his face and said, “Stop, right there.” He halted, with a twinge of surprise, keeping his gaze fixed on me. “Again, this is my house and you are a guest here, albeit an unwelcome one at that.”
“My mediation space is also off-limits,” I continued. “It is sacred and hallowed ground. And, as you are witnessing, it’s where I’ve equipped myself with the tools to overcome your abuses and traumas.” Depression looked at me with deep contempt and a boiling uneasiness.
“You can roam the rest of the house as you like, but you are not allowed to get in my way. And, don’t even think about unpacking those garbage bags you call luggage.” Depression’s frustration with my rules of engagement heightened. He began to breathe heavily and tightened his lips. He resembled a child forced to endure the summer with his excessively demanding and eccentric aunt and uncle, fully aware that the coming weeks would be woefully challenging and distressing.
Depression doesn’t do a one-night stand. On the contrary, he’s the consummate squatter. Depression took up residence for nine weeks. We ate meals and watched TV together. He drove to and from work with me. We did housework, gardened, worked out, and ran errands. We socialized with friends, and he even accompanied me on a few dates. He tempted me with trauma from the past, vitriol from social media, and moments of self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. He was relentless in resurfacing recent hurts and losses.
Depression is a formidable foe and an unruly house guest who requires my full attention and all of my mental and emotional resources to overcome. During his visit, his strategies became more intense and persistent. There were moments when I grew anxious that he might prevail in this battle of wits. He was ruthless in his attempts to drag me into his putrefied pit of despair. As the weeks wore on, I learned to anticipate his attacks and took action before he could gain a foothold in my mind. I would counter his assaults with positive thoughts and actions, employing various strategies, such as exercise, therapy, meditation, faith, self-care, and leaning deeper into my trusted circle of family and friends.
I have learned to be the master of my own mind. Over the years, I’ve built a mental and emotional defense. And it was clear on this particular visit that Depression was no longer able to breach them, and I had gained ground against my hostile house guest, solidifying my fortitude.
On the eve of Depression’s last night with me, it was as if he had reconciled that it was time to vacate. Seated at my dining room table, he remained silent, his demeanor speaking volumes. His spirit conveyed a resounding acknowledgment of defeat. No words escaped his lips, yet his expression whispered the message loud and clear: “You've won.” In that moment, a bittersweet triumph washed over me. For too long, Depression’s visits had cast a dark shadow over my life, clouding my thoughts and stealing my joy. But now, in this profound shift of power, the tides had turned, granting me the strength to confront and conquer his adversarial prowess. And though there were minor wounds incurred that have now fused with the scars of the past, I am stronger and more resilient for having, yet again, faced such a formidable opponent. I could sense the surrender in his eyes, a poignant recognition that his hold over me had finally been broken. Though his silence prevailed, its eloquence echoed through the room, marking the end of an arduous visit.
On the dawn of the following morning, I eagerly bid Depression adieu and watched as he slowly faded from view and reveled in the liberation that washed over me. Within my soul, a mix of emotions swirled—a blend of gratitude and strength with a flicker of apprehensive hope. The burden that consumed my every waking moment during his visit had finally lifted. Though uncertainty lies ahead, I hold a steadfast confidence in my resilience and determination to navigate the path. As the taillights of Depression disappeared from sight, I whispered to myself, “Goodbye, old foe. Until next time.”
©2023 LoriAnn Boyer - All Rights Reserved
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