This is 40: Or How I Spent My (Incredibly Long) Summer Vacation

On July 31, 2009—29 days before my 40th birthday—I walked away from my job. Period. No new job lined up, no clear idea of what to do next and only the flimsiest of plans for supporting myself. Just a need to step off the ledge—not to go “splat,” but as a leap of faith. I could see it in my mind's eye—the wind in my hair, arms wide open. Freedom.

I had been depressed for 5 years. 5.

And I had had it.

Sometimes I miss my office

Who am I kidding? I ALWAYS miss my office.

Late last April, I left a reporting job I’d been at for almost 3 years. It was my first—and most likely only—job with an office.

And it was great. Who wouldn’t happily abandon cubicle-land for their own office? I had a window. With a view of….the side of Union Station!! Woo hoo! And if I squished the left side of my face up to the window and craned my neck, I could look up First Street and see the Capitol dome. Or, closer by, the every-other-week convergence of emergency vehicles for yet another unattended package in the train station. And who could forget the summer of striking, chanting, workers and their giant inflatable rat?

Bnd it wasn’t just the view. I could hang some nice pictures, turn my music up pretty loud (actually I sometimes used to do this in cubicles too), put my feet up on my desk, and shop online without looking over my shoulder. In short, I had a DOOR. Pretty damn handy. Because even in at a company with a “nap room” and all sorts of wellness programs, lying down on the floor to meditate (and no that’s not a euphemism for sleep) in a cubicle is pretty awkward.

All we can do is keep breathing

I wrote this a while ago, intending to post it to some anonymous depression-focused blog I created, but it's part of who I am (sometimes) and I think it really belongs on the Chronicles. I don't feel the need to be anonymous anymore.

I like "Grey's Anatomy." I think at its best, the show can be genuinely moving. It's no "Buffy"--pondering the nature of good and evil and what it means to have a soul. But definitely glimpses of the simultaneous fragility and resilience of the human heart.

I also really like its music. I'll leave it to others to analyze what that says about my hipness or lack thereof, but I enjoy what I find. And sometimes I find pieces that resonate. Like the song I currently can't get out of my head: "Keep Breathing" by Ingrid Michaelson:

I want to change the world. Instead, I sleep.

Wow, did that catch my attention the first time I heard it. Not that my aspirations were ever quite that lofty, but there are things I thought I would do and I haven't. Projects I want to do, but don't. Specifically, this current relapse has been all about apathy. A lack of desire and energy to do anything but keep body and soul (and my dog) together. Like the song goes on to say:

All that I know is I'm breathing.

Pretty grim, right? And it's definitely felt like that sometimes. Full on episodes of that scary nothingness that is woven into the fabric of depression--what I like to call "the abyss." But I also find another meaning in the song--a subtle shift in the lyrics:

All I can do is keep breathing

Like, as long as I'm breathing, anything is possible.

Breath, in various contexts, is kind of a personal touchstone. Like another song I picked up from Grey's: "Breathe (2 AM)." The tension--musically and lyrically--continuously intensifies, as life throws itself at the narrator, building into a crescendo. The movement and urgency are reminiscent of developing panic attack. Pulse racing, brain sprinting as you try to just hold it together. And then you remember:

Breathe, just breathe.

Taking deep, measured breaths has been a major coping mechanism for me for so long, and while sometimes, during really sustained bouts of panic, only a little valium will do, I like the reminder that sometimes it's possible to just pause and slow it down a few beats.

Or, as the great philosopher and poet Paul Hewson (aka Bono) would say:

And if the night runs over

And if the day won't last

And if your way should falter

along the stony pass

it's just a moment

this time will pass.