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It’s like burying your feet in the sand. At first there’s warmth and pleasure as your scrunched toes dig deeper into the earth, disappearing beneath the service of the thousands of tiny, soothing grains. Then, as you slowly pull your feet back out, the tiny grains stick to you and scrape against your skin as you try desperately to wipe them off. So you leave them there.

That’s what depression is like for me. Sometimes I want nothing more than to sink into my misery, to fully immerse myself, and dig my toes down into it. It’s comfortable there. But, as I move around in it, the tiny particles of misery start sticking to me and as desperately I want to rub them off, I don’t want to pull my feet out.

It’s like when you have a bruise or a scrape on your body and you keep pressing on the wound, even though it hurts. Something about the pain compels you to go back for more. So you do.

The worst is when someone tries to pull you out of your pit. They rationalize your situation and reason with you. They remind you that life is more than here and now and that you can choose what to focus on. And, damn, is it irritating!!

Because you know they’re right. And you hate them for it because it means you have to rub the grains of misery off and that’s no easy task. They cling to you, they cling to everything! You try to rub them off with your hands but they cling to those too. You try to wipe them off with a towel but they just scratch at your skin. It feels easier to just stay and wallow than to face what you have to do to free yourself.

But after you’ve rid yourself of the sand, your clean, dry feet feel fresh and new. You dangle them out in front of you and wiggle your toes; a smile erupts on your face, a giggle escapes your lips. And suddenly you remember what it’s like to be free and how good it feels to want to stay that way.

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