Change It Up

In my mid-thirties, I grew dangerously depressed. I did not look depressed, if there is a look, did not talk sad, did not verbalize despair, but inside… I was losing any ability to feel. Love, anger, hate, hunger, fatigue, joy… nothin’. Why get out of bed ever again? I was the single parent of a young child, so the Slough of Despond was an untenable option. I could still think–thank heavens for that–and I asked myself: When was the last time I was happy? Most of my regular commenters have heard this story, and the answer that eventually surfaced for me was, “When I was a kid on a horse.” I got a horse. I cannot say, “All better!” but the black dog has never stalked me anywhere near as closely since. The horse and all the positive associations equines have for me were probably only a part of the recovery recipe. Physical activity that I enjoyed (as opposed to the other kind which I call exercise), being around people with whom I had something in common, making a space in my life that…