Lingering effects I never wanted

While I was at the lowest points of the depression I experienced, every morning was a struggle. Typically a morning was preceded by a night of less than adequate sleep, ending at 5 a.m., when I woke to eat breakfast and prepare to be to school by 7 a.m.

Every morning was filled with dread. Every morning was dark, difficult, and a struggle. Every day I wanted to give in and not leave the house. I was anxious about going, and I didn’t want to put myself in a place where that anxiety could grow and my feelings of hopelessness would increase.

Over time, those feelings became associated with volleyball–all vitality my passion for it brought was sucked completely out of me. It once was the haven to which I fled when the struggles of the day were over. Now it is the main trigger for depressive thoughts.

Now, I am mostly through the depression I experienced while teaching. I’ve had healing that allowed me to regain love for life and for moving and doing new and difficult things.

But my anxiety toward coaching volleyball remains.

I don’t want to think about the fact I have to coach a tournament today. I just don’t want it. I know I’ve written about hating volleyball and about having brief moments of enjoyment while coaching, but right now, I can’t convince myself to get out of bed and shower so I can be halfway presentable for the day.

And when I can get out of bed, I know I’ll have the same feelings in the shower–a place that once was energizing, not enervating–I did before school: dread, worry, near breakdowns, occasional, breakdowns. Nothing logically founded, but everything vividly real, nonetheless.

Volleyball brings me no joy. I feel the same way about coaching volleyball that I did when teaching school. Cognitively I want to enjoy it. I know I should. But I cannot convince myself to enjoy the experience, even though I know nothing unfortunate will likely happen, nor is there any reason to be anxious about it.

Eventually, I hope healing will occur. Possibly time and separation will heal the wound. In the meantime, I’ll do the same thing I did while teaching: force myself to get up and out and rely on my kids to provide some amount of vitality.