One day at a time!

I am writing this blog with guidance from my psychologist. Since I have been on leave, I have been trying to focus on myself and honestly have not felt like writing. No blogs, no journals. Nothing. As she pointed out in today’s session. I need to write. Daily. Even if it is not for a blog post or journal post. To help me purge my brain. That begins tomorrow.

During my leave that started February 16^th, and didn’t get officially approved until yesterday, I have been hiking. Dr. Erin stated this is my time to focus on myself. As everyone who knows me knows. I worry about way too much. Even worse, I try to help and fix others. All at a price. I neglect myself.

This short hiatus from work is my time to focus on myself. To get me back to a good headspace. Using the tools that help calm me down. To ground me, even if only slightly. It all begins with hiking. I have hiked every day but 3 since I began my break from work. Sometimes with Mark. Others with Amanda or Amanda, but mostly alone.

Today was one of those such hikes. A short 4-mile trek at Harrison-Crawford State Forest. The hike took two hours, and I really had no agenda other than to hike to a particular spot, then turn around and come back. This loop called the Upper Blue River Trail Loop is not really a loop at all. It travels close to 4 miles one way, then you must return the way you came (or park your car at the end) traveling close to 8 miles.

This trail is magical for me. It crosses Rock Creek (which is almost always dry), then skirts by Blue River for some scenic views. At a further point along the trail, there is a resting point specifically designed for horses. There is a large picnic table, surrounded by three ties off stations for horses. After all, the trail is a horse trail that is shared by two-wheel drive beasts like me. I told that to a ranger once, and she said you can’t take cars on…. I stopped her and pointed to my legs. “Two-wheel drive.” She laughed. Today I stopped and sat at this table. I listened to the wind. To the birds, and to the silence of the forest. For a moment, the chatter in my head stopped too.

The frosted air bit at exposed skin, turning exhaled breaths into wispy phantoms that danced among the skeletal branches overhead. The air, crisp and clean, stung my lungs with each inhale, but it was a welcome bite that chased away any lingering anxiety. Each breath brought the clean, earthy scent, washing away the cobwebs of daily anxieties.

With every step, the rhythmic crunch of fallen leaves becomes a mantra, quieting the chatter in my mind. Here, amidst the whispering pines and the dappled sunlight, my thoughts slowly unfurl, revealing solutions and connections hidden in the undergrowth of my mind. The woods are not just a path; they are pathways to my mental clarity.

Sunlight, pale and diffused, struggled to pierce the dense canopy, casting long, spidery shadows across the snow-dusted forest floor. The woods turned into a cathedral of towering trunks, and sunlight filtered through the few remaining leaves, creating the effect of stained glass. The silence was profound, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of boots on packed earth and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the surrounding dense woodland. In the hushed stillness of the winter woods, every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig seemed amplified, a symphony of nature’s quietude that filled the space where words would normally fall. I felt utterly alone, yet the vibrant silence of a world waiting to awaken surrounded me.

Today’s trek, like many others, was a way and time for me to decompress. Like men at McDonald’s restaurants during late mornings, I attempt to solve the problems swirling in my head. Sometimes I come up with viable solutions, other times not, but each journey brings me a temporary peace.

Things I once cherished have slowly leached away, leaving behind an emptiness that echoes in my chest. The joy that once danced in my eyes has dimmed into a flicker, barely holding back the encroaching shadows of despair. Even the simplest tasks, once mundane, feel like mountains, their weight threatening to crush me into the cold, hard ground. This is the suffocating reality of depression, a thief that steals the vibrancy from life, leaving behind a hollow shell that struggles to remember the warmth of the sun.

Fog clings heavy, obscuring the vibrant hues of the world around me. Each step, each daily task, feels like wading through mud, my once-joyful spirit a deflated balloon, limp and lifeless. But somewhere amidst the gray, a flicker. A memory, a spark of a forgotten passion. Like a sculptor chipping away at stone, I unearthed it, piece by painstaking piece. It was a slow, arduous process, like coaxing a wilted flower back to bloom. But with each sunrise, the fog thins ever so slightly, revealing my passions of the world, a reason to keep chipping away. The battle against depression is relentless, but within the cracks, amidst the despair, lies the potential for resilience, and the unwavering hope for a brighter, more vibrant dawn.

Until next time,

Tim