On the struggle against depression.

Sinking into that low, that desolate cave where I can't pull myself out, I wonder, I wonder. I mostly wonder how someone like myself can get so low. I can't fight the mindlessness of this feeling. Darkness overcomes me and I can't pin-point it. No, that's a lie. There's always a small reason. I feel so overwhelmed by my life that I can't fight the anger that crashes over me. I am angry. I am depleted. I am washed away from myself. I feel like someone else is taking over.

The monster resides.

I remember a few years ago, I was on a camp. I was standing outside at two in the morning, in the middle of a forest. And I looked up at the sky and I saw the stars, the moon, the pretty picture clouds hanging over me, and I breathed in. Deeply. My whole soul breathed those clouds in and I felt complete, knowing that those clouds were nurturing my heart. I remembered thinking, "nothing else matters". And I felt truly alive again.

That's me. The "me" in the forest is the real me.

But I hate this monster who keeps taking me over.

Last night I had to fight it, fight it, scowl it away with every breath of my being. I was so depleted. I wanted to be invisible and not feel the pain anymore. I wanted to go on fantasy holidays and never return. I was going to write a post, but it would've sounded too damn depressing.

And then I went to yoga. It took all my willpower to go. And as I lay on that floor in the starting "rest" position, I fought off the anger that kept trickling over my throat, constricting my air supply. I fought it, I fought it. I tried to hide the furrow in my brow. I tried. After a while, my breathing felt less ragged, more composed.

I moved into the next few yoga stretches, and I hurt. I wanted to scream. I wanted to walk out.

After another twenty minutes, I was completely focused on my body. The strength in my thighs. The weight pushing against my shoulders. The beautiful curve of my leg as I extended upwards. My hands reaching forward in grace.

I felt it, I felt it. My body coming alive. My soul reappearing. It seems that my soul is so interwoven with my body. My physicality, my sense of being. It makes me feel alive, it makes me feel strong, composed, in control.

I realised that I only feel this angry monster overtaking me when I lose control. But when I regain control of my body, I regain control of who I am. My happiness.

This is why I can never label myself as a sad person. My whole heart is gracious and happy. My innermost being loves the beauty and intricacies of life. But when the monster reappears, I fall far away from myself. And sometimes I find it very hard to return.

I contemplate how hard it must be for someone who doesn't feel as innately happy as me, to regain control over their feelings.

When I am in yoga, sometimes I feel as some people would feel in church. Relief. A sense of God.

I feel something powerful within myself. I think I have God within me. When I feel myself in full control of a pose, strong and free and capable and powerful, I feel that a spirit resides in me, whispering the way. "This is me."

And the monster dies. I am free.