Deep

I don’t know how to describe depression. I feel like I’m standing in a hole that’s exactly 1 inch taller than my reach. I see sunlight and happiness beyond the horizon of the hole. But I can’t claw my way to the top to get out. That’s my depression. Spiraling in to my own thoughts and seeing sunlight but failing to register its significance. It’s warm but I feel the chill of a fever. There’s food around me but I can’t satiate. A hole.

Japan was lovely. I left for my trip hoping to return with a sense of peace. I found myself deeper in a realization of how much inner work I have to do. It’s discouraging to know how insecure I am. It’s like my progress has been not only stifled, but negated. Being alone is hard. My brain is scary. I’ve been lucky enough to be spared from suicidal thoughts. The closest I get is indifference to my survival. I always know that things will get better. But sometimes it feels like I’m in the middle of the ocean on a partially deflated life raft. I’m alive. But my lips are dry from dehydration and my mind is spiraling from lack of human interaction.

At least I can reflect. I’m so upset that I’ve spent years convincing myself that I can simply “relationship” away all of my issues. I can work them away. I can be productive and run. I can starve myself. Insert distraction here and I did it. But there’s beauty in not being able to run away. The upside comes with knowing that I have to sit in this feeling. Knowing that I want to leave the world better than how I found it by fixing my issues. So I don’t pass them on. Also….my god is Japan perfect.

2/10 and it’s my last morning in Kyoto. I wake up to a headache because I arrogantly neglected a jacket on the night of my birthday and now I’m fighting a cold. I grab a can of coffee from the hotel vending machine while donning the provided robe left on my bed. The coffee is heated or iced depending on your mood. They think of everything. The perfection and attention to detail is a double edged sword. I appreciate and simultaneously lament on how much more thoughtful this country is than my own.

I step outside rubbing my eyes and watch a business owner pick up individual leaves with her thumb and index finger to assure no flaws for her customers. I walk in to the neighborhood cafe where the proprietor greets me with IRASSHAIMASE! I’ve never felt out of place. For as much as I stand out no one others me or stares. They smile, they ask if I need help, they enthusiastically compliment my efforts at broken Japanese. It’s gorgeous. I sip my pour over and try to feel the atmosphere. I’ll take the train back to Tokyo and then I’ll head to the airport in the morning. I’ll never be the same. It’s so dramatic to say that. But I realize this every time I walked down an alley way lit by neon lanterns. Each turn a new adventure and a new smell or sound…I’ll miss this forever. It feels like what community should feel like. It’s a perfect metaphor. Everyone wants to do better even when it’s harder. That’s what Japan means to me.

So here I am. For a few days it was jet lag. Now it’s life lag. I’m about to open the coffee cart. New things and beautiful happenings are on the horizon. But for now I’m alone. I’m alone. And that’s ok. But it hurts a lot.