As I’m lying down with my little one for his bedtime snuggle, I’m realizing that I haven’t retreated to the fantasy world that gets me through depressions lately. At first I though it was the magic pill I’ve been taking, but I think something better is happening.
When I first started taking the pills, I tried to get in and I couldn’t. Something was blocking the door. It wasn’t me, it was the pill. But in the last few weeks I’ve begun taking care of my physical health, and while that switch took a herculean effort to move to the on position, it’s like watching a compact fluorescent’s power grow as it absorbs powers. At first it’s only little successes, but then a sense of physical well being takes over, charging the mercury until all the rooms in my head are bright, and my vision is clear.
Now running about a mile or mile 1/2 a day, hoping to get up to three so I can run with my sister in August, I’m starting to feel the effect of a natural magic pill. As I was lying next to my beautiful sleeping boy, I noticed I still couldn’t get into the room, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t need or want to. Some of that need may have been quashed by pharma, but it’s nice to know that at least some of that lack of desire may be my own doing.