“How are you?”
“I’m doing better.”
Better isn’t equivalent to good. The -er indicates a difference from a previous state. Last semester, I wasn’t doing so well, but now I’m better. I’m not wholly healed though.
“Better? What do you mean?”
Well, I don’t know. All I can say is last semester is when I felt like I had fallen into a deep ditch and I had no intention of crawling back out. In fact, I was content on the ground. My body didn’t ache. My heart wasn’t broken. My mind was empty.
“How did you fall?”
I’m not sure. I can’t trace my depression back to a single source. It wasn’t because of a boy nor was it because of my busy schedule. And I can’t tell if my diluted relationship with God was a factor. All I can say is that I fell and it felt really good to turn my back on everything else.
To be honest, nothing changed and that’s my biggest fear. What if I wake up and I’ve fallen again? I get the itch to stumble every now and then. I’ll wonder, “could I skip these classes and still pass? what if I called in sick to work? do I really need to meet up with them?” The list of possible ways to avoid all interaction, to stay in my room, to not get up still exists. I push it out of sight, out of mind, but it bobs up like a buoy.
There isn’t a lesson learned from this experience because I think I’m still going through it. I haven’t yet climbed out, but I’m on my way.