I can feel myself being lifted out of the morass of depression. The Wellbutrin is working. To help it along, I’ve decided to make a list of things that make me glad to be alive:
sobriety, my kids, medication that works, being gay, the grass beneath my feet, feeding ducks at the park, books (Middlemarch by George Eliot, Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot, The Complete Works of Shakespeare, The Republic by Plato, The Iliad by Homer, Eros the Bittersweet by Anne Carson, Lamb by Christopher Moore, and many more), the scent of flowers blowing through my window, the Internet, the revelations in picture form from the Hubble Space Telescope and the ground-based observatories, clean water, yummy food, my house, beautiful art from many different millenia, etc.
I could go on and on. There are big things to be thankful for, and there are little things. By reminding myself of these wonderful things, I lift my spirits. I begin to feel better. Isn’t feeling better what it’s all about?
I have to be my own best advocate, and it’s hard to do that when I’m depressed. I have to take responsibility for my treatment, and that means using everything I can to feel better.
Oh, I almost forgot. I’m grateful for coffee. What would mornings be like without it?