taste and see

 This past summer, as a result of a major depressive episode, I spent some time on a locked floor of a psychiatric hospital.  I've had these episodes before, but this one crept up on me and I suddenly found myself unable to cope with the idea of living.  Thankfully, I realized I was in an unhealthy place and was able to make the decision to be safe before I harmed myself.

In the hospital, they changed my meds and I slowly got a little better.  I spent days just laying in my bed there, emerging only for meals.  After about a week, I went home, still nervous about whether I'd be safe by myself, but unwilling to stay in a hospital that was a good distance from home and costing a chunk of money.  

It's been a long road back from that dark place - more med and dosage changes, lots of down time, an alternative treatment with a promising success rate.  I've made changes to my diet, pushed through the body pain and ennui to exercise more.  I've emptied my schedule of activities and limited my commitments.  I feel the stigma of doing less in a "do more" culture, but I have to choose my mental health over what society says.

Today I went for a walk outside - my first in awhile due to the weather.  I left my earbuds at home and entered in to this feast for my senses.

I felt the warm sun on my skin. The gentle breeze caressed my face.  

I heard the chick-a-dee-dee and other bird song (and earlier in the morning, from my deck, the call of Canada geese, coming home).

And the "Good morning!" of other walkers and runners.

And the "On your left!" of bikers passing me on the trail.

I smelled the slightly pungent scent of new growth, pushing up through the carpet of rotting leaves, and the waft of freshly laundered clothing as people passed by.

I saw kelly green growth of new moss, bushes budding, bugs sunning themselves on a concrete wall, tiny purple flowers raising their faces to the sun.  I saw a dad with two wee daughters, lovers holding hands, friends chatting, a boy on a tricycle with his mama following closely as his brother ran ahead.

I tasted the cool water from my rubber-encased, glass bottle, and the refreshing bite of an iced coffee from the cafe at the end of my walk.

There's a verse in the Bible that says, "Taste and see that the Lord is good."  In the dark place, that goodness can be hard to believe in.  I did find it.  I tasted it in the friends who checked in with me, in my husband's gentle care.  I saw it in the beauty of snow and the cozy comfort of a warm fire.  

Today, though, I feel a bit like I'm coming back to life.  Goodness, indeed.