I find that the people who have been through a lot of hurt can be the most resilient. I like to think that even of myself. I took last week off from blogging to recover from a bout of depression caused by medicine withdrawals. It sounds personal and it is, but I think it’s important to talk about these things and to speak them into the world so that others, who may be going through similar situations, can find solace in the words I share. Those who are safely tucked away at home, hoping that there is a possible fix and praying that this world will come out repaired: you are resilient. You have found a way to adapt from car rides, subways, and buses to short walks from room to room. You have found the time to teach yourself a new recipe, have been supporting food businesses around you, or maybe even participated in the free meals offered by your community. People come together in times like this and it’s beautiful. Even when you’re laying down with the covers up over your head, feeling numb and like life has refused to show you a sign to go on, the same sun that has shone on you in your best moments is the sun that refuses to stop shining before it’s supposed to.

Your small and big sufferings. Your losses. The sicknesses. The way you carelessly throw another piece of clothing into the laundry bag knowing it’s going to hit week three and you still haven’t washed your bed sheets— this is the essence of what’s going to be in history texts. I wonder what photos they’ll put in next to the paragraph about the COVID-19 pandemic. Or will we just be a sentence? I get that. That this will be a blip in mankind and things will go on. Maybe things will go on differently, maybe there’ll be a revolution. All I know is that you’ve made it this far and you’re here. Don’t quit. But why, you might ask, I don’t think I can take it anymore. Breathe. You got this. 

When depression hits me, I feel like a force is pushing me down on my entire being. For others it might feel like sand pulling them downward just when they thought they reached the bottom, they kept sinking lower. Words like “one day at a time” “it gets better” “this too shall pass” “this is temporary” feel like lies. They feel like empty promises and things you think you should tell people who are feeling “bad”. Even with all the good intentions, all the thoughts and prayers and hopes, sometimes you just need to be… a bowl. You’ve fallen, you’re cracked, you’re in pieces. How can you possibly put yourself back together again? You try to pick up the pieces but they cut you and now you’re in pain and you’re suffering. Please, breathe. Call your best friend. Call a friend. Call a hotline. Drink some water. Drink some tea. Meditate for 1 minute, 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 20 minutes. Stretch. Take a walk (with a mask, please, and social distance too!) Do something artistic. Take a nap. Take a hot bath or a hot shower. Hug a pillow. Hug your roommate or your partner or your family member. Just don’t give up. With these support systems you’ll fill the cracks and put yourself back together again. You’ll be a beautiful bowl. Cracked but even more beautiful for it. Bolstered by the glue of those who are wanting you tethered to earth. We’re all here and we’re all experiencing this.

You got this, kittens.

*Kintsugi is the Japanese art of mending broken bowls with silver or gold powder.