I spent a lot of time in the garden this morning. I like my Sunday mornings pulling weeds. Around 8:00 I have the garden to myself, listening to the birds and feeling the dirt underneath my fingernails. I spend my time digging around my head as much as in the dirt, and this week was no exception.

Things have been a little tough lately, and I feel at a loss for how to smooth them over. I can’t help but compare myself now to the self a year ago- more sex, less stress, more energy. Then, not now. I worry that I’m falling back into old habits and that I haven’t made as much progress as I thought. Those are the dark thoughts.

My garden thoughts are a little different- more dewy, more forgiving. I have been working hard to understand how I handle stress, and how unforgiving my libido can be. I realize now that I struggle more with depression than I thought I did- I have my big seasonal cycle, but I also have little spots here and there that sneak up on me. My energy levels are way down—I set aside the evening and night to do things that are meaningful to me (write, photos, time with Rob) to free up my days and let me get done what I need to (work, groceries, cleaning, etc.), but by the time MY time rolls around, all I want to do is sleep. I know I’m not trying to do too much during the busy times—my old self would be mortified at how little I accomplish these days— and I just don’t know how to solve it. I’m practically immune to coffee and sugar doesn’t jive with the needed weight loss.

I’m terrified because this is one of the few things that can’t just be fixed by changing my schedule, my job, my habits. At least I don’t think- and that seems to be the most terrifying part. I can’t say I know anyone who successfully manages their depression- I’m a bit without a resource. I’ve toyed with the idea of a therapist, but who’s to say that’ll work? And it’s not like my company is paying for it. What if Freud was wrong? What if talking about it doesn’t do a damn bit of good?