Every Saturday, Azyxa goes off to morning yoga while I do my best to sleep in. I’m usually recovering from the previous Friday of taking care of my niece all day. It’s become somewhat of a tradition for Azyxa to pick us up brunch after spending an hour at Elizabeth Street cafe hanging out with the bartenders. He loves to chat with baristas and bartenders and nerd out over liqueurs and special brews.
I will have barely been able to brush my teeth and wash my face before he’s had a full morning of productivity. He always tries to bring me brunch from wherever he visits after yoga because he knows I’m not a morning person. My idea of making an effort for breakfast for just myself is a slice of wheat bread.
While I’m a cheapskate and hate the idea of buying out for breakfast, I can’t say I ever complain when he brings me brunch home from Elizabeth Street cafe. They have the best french toast ever. If you order it at the cafe, it’s actually served with ice cream on top. yum! I don’t normally like to wake up (ever) but good food actually motivates me from out of the covers.
I’m currently trying to change up my lifestyle to be less slothful and depressing. It’s slow going but the last two weeks have been better than the last eight months. My best advice to those like me who have a hard time with life is to surround yourself with people who know how to find joy. At least, then you can pick up a few scraps of happiness every once in awhile.
My life in the past ten years have been plagued with depression and anxiety. It’s been an incredibly difficult journey to recovery. In fact, I’m not even convinced I can ever recover but my therapist often says that my disease prevents me from seeing that kind of hope. I rely heavily on my husband and Daisy to get me through the day to day.
I realize other people might not be as lucky to have support like I do and I often try to imagine what this experience would be like in solitude. I would imagine I would just spiral into oblivion because I would continually cycle the darkness. My nihilism knows no bounds.
I think so many others are in my position though, trying their best to show face and present a life worth living. At the same time, they might be fighting an invisible force of misery that continually creeps to the surface. Depression is a complex battle. Some people believe that you can always see it in others but my experience shows that until it is at its most extreme, you won’t be able to see it.
That’s why I value giving and receiving the small joys in life. You never know how valuable the tiniest of smiles and gestures might make in someone’s life. A young girl holding the door for me, a stranger smiling a hello, or colorful plate of french toast. Everyone deserves any scrap of happiness you can give.