They say small victories are still victories. I hope that’s true. I’ll have to take other’s words for it because I haven’t been feeling very victorious lately, especially with my depression kicking my butt. Life has been hard, but I recently had a day of small victories that I can put in my back pocket and try to hope they add up to more sustainable victories soon.

Monday was not the happiest day for me. I had a Ketamine treatment in the morning, and I sobbed through the entirety of it. I just felt so despondent, and I wished someone would tell me that there was reason to hope. I wanted to hear so badly that my depression would not last forever.

Tuesday, when I woke, I felt a little better. I didn’t want to trust the slight reprieve of my melancholy, so I took it minute by minute. I dragged myself out of bed and took my dog Lizzie for a 3.2-mile walk. At the beginning of my walk, I felt good and might have woken up the neighbors when I started singing out loud to my uptempo workout music. A few dogs might have howled in pain as well.

However, the walk soon turned excruciating because I quickly felt fatigued, but I kept going because, generally, the workouts that I don’t feel like doing are typically my best workouts.

When I came home, I felt a little exhilarated, especially when coming into the air conditioning and plucking a cold bottle of water from my refrigerator. I had other I hoped I would accomplish Tuesday, but I put that small victory in my back pocket and hoped the day would bring more.

Later, I dropped Daniel off at his psychiatry appointment and decided to go to my favorite thrift store instead of waiting in the psychiatrist’s office for Daniel to finish. I wasn’t sure I had the spoons to go to the thrift store. Driving sponges all my energy, but I tried to imagine how I would feel if I didn’t go and compare that to how I would feel if I went. I followed my thoughts to their conclusion, and decided going to the thrift store would be better for me than not.

I managed the drive, which I acknowledge was less than three miles, but driving takes a toll on me, even the shortest of distances.

I spent over an hour sifting and sorting through racks of all types of apparel, trying to drown out the voices inside my head telling me I’m too fat for that shirt and how those pants will never work with my body shape. Small victory.

I didn’t have a good clothing haul this time. I walked away with only an exercise top and two dressy-casual shirts, all for $5.00. But the victory was that I went, and that was worth more than any $3.00 Michael Kors shirt. Well, almost. 😉

After I left the store and unexplainable to me, my mood started to descend as the daytime began to expire and turn to afternoon and evening. There is something about the afternoons and evenings that just doesn’t want to cooperate with my efforts to feel better.

However, I had a reservation at my county aquatics center for the lap pool, and I really wanted to go despite the voices in my head telling me staying at home in bed would be more comfortable. As with my thrift-store thoughts,  I had to play the tape forward and consider how I would feel about myself if I didn’t do what I intended.

So I gathered all my swimming gear, and off I went. Another small victory.

My watch implied I did a great job for swimming 49 minutes, but I withheld the knowledge that I had to rest some of that time. At the beginning of my workout, I had to stop and catch my breath after 25 yards, one lousy lap. But I am not judging myself for it. I know if I swim laps on a regular basis, my athletic conditioning will improve, and I’ll be back to where I was last year.

I was just happy to be there. I know exercise for me is just another antidepressant that I need to take every day. It wouldn’t be wise for me to neglect to take my medication, so it’s not wise to neglect my exercise.

 Since the day was full of small victories, I celebrated that night with some coloring and my favorite tea.

I credit my improved mood on Monday’s Ketamine treatment, but the small victories on Tuesday belong to me. I fought my way through the day to stay out of bed, and that was all me.

My depression tells me lies and tries to discredit my small victories by insisting they are anomalies, never to be replicated. My depression tells me that I’m incapable of sustaining more victories. Whatever.

I will take the small victories I had Tuesday, and I will treasure them as tiny slivers of potential hope. And that in itself might be the biggest victory.

 Current Music Mood: Scared