My husband and I are pet sitting for three weeks, and I planned great things for our time in suburbia. Purge and clean the van! Build a small bookshelf behind the fridge (in the van)! Get ahead on homework (did I mention I started a second master’s program?)! Write the discussion for the manuscript I’m getting to paid to write as a research assistant! Start strength training again! You know what I accomplished after one week?

Nothing.

Each day I thought of the things on my grand list. The list I created when motivation ran through my veins. Or did it? As most of us know, it is so easy to write a to-do list. Delusions of all the amazing things you can accomplish dance through your head. The high feeling you get imagining the things you will get done is almost as good as completing the tasks themselves. Until you don’t complete them.

I am left with so many negative feelings.

Disappointment. Really? You couldn’t get your shit together during this prime opportunity that you might not get again any time soon?

Inadequacy. Other people would be taking advantage of this situation. Why can’t you?

Anger. Have you seriously just watched movies and played video games for an entire week?!?! What is wrong with you?!

Sadness. Great, now I have to continue to deal with a messy, dirty van that wreaks havoc on my mental health.

Fear. Oh my goodness, we have to submit this manuscript by November 1st. I need to get it to my professor by October 26th. I only have one week! And so many other things I need to do. Am I going to be the reason we don’t meet our milestone? Will this affect my professor getting a research grant in the future?

All thoughts and feelings. None of them good.

I am depressed.

In my younger years, depression wove itself into the fabric of my life. For years I struggled with depression. Eventually, I learned how to deal with my problems instead of ignore them or try to drink them away. I gained self esteem. I gained confidence. Confidence in myself as a valuable, lovable human being. Confidence in my capabilities to handle whatever life throws my way.

Now and again, mild depression creeps up to whisper, “Hello,” but I implement one of the many tools learned over the years to say, “Goodbye.” This time is different. The soft whispers went unnoticed. Perhaps the depression attempted to speak up, and I either ignored the cries or kept myself busy enough to not hear them.

I understand that it is not necessary to be productive all the time. That is an unreasonable expectation. Over the years, I also learned to take time to relax. I learned it is okay to be kind to myself when I can only do so much and celebrate little wins. This past week, I could not bring myself to do anything. When I realized my only small wins were feeding myself and walking, it finally hit me that I was depressed. Full-blown depressed.

This is not a deep depression, thankfully, but it’s not something I have experienced since my second divorce eight years ago (in case you didn’t know, this is my third marriage because third times the charm, or is it three times the charm?). But I’m depressed enough that my usual tricks to get myself to do something productive did not work.

Looking at my to-do list overwhelmed me. Intimidated me. My brain shut down thinking about all the items on the list. I continued to do nothing. Continuing to do nothing meant less time to accomplish my to-do list, which overwhelmed me, creating a horrible cycle of doom and gloom.

Enter to-do stacks.

Each of my to-do items is written on its own index card, and the cards are placed in a stack. I only see one task at a time. Has the amount of tasks changed? Absolutely not. Have I tricked myself into getting the tasks done? Absolutely. As I accomplish a task, I fan the card out on my desk so I can gaze upon all things I managed to do despite my depression.

Yellow cards are my normal to-do items. Orange cards are things I would like to do, but if they don’t get done, no additional stress is created. I also added green cards in the stack as rewards because my brain loves rewards. My rewards are also designed to help my mental health. For example, writing this blog is a reward, but it is also a journal, which means getting my thoughts on “paper” and out of my head.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a yellow note card staring at me, telling me I need to spend one hour on my manuscript.

Training Journal anxiety depression journal life mental-health