I arise after a fitful night of waking up several times and gazing at the digital clock striking 3:47am.  I am exhausted, depressed, anxious and emotionally swimming in a murky swamp.  The swamp engulfs me as feelings of hopelessness stab me in the heart. My wife kisses me goodbye and I miss her as soon as the door closes. I don’t tell her how I feel because I don’t want to wreck her day.  I don’t want to be selfish.   I feel lost, lonely and alone. I tell myself that I try so hard to be a good friend, husband, therapist and writer, but feel like I have failed to make a difference in anyone’s life.  I don’t always feel this downtrodden, but when I enter this dismal space, it is nothing but stark gloominess.

I am confused how to deal with a self-destructive friend.  I should just let her go.  My father died suddenly almost fifty years ago and I am frequently overwhelmed with the traumatic memories of his death and knowing I have lived most of my life without him. There is always some personal drama to become immersed in. The day is filled with a sunny promise, yet I am filled with darkness.

I get out of bed because my back hurts and I know that I have to start my day.  I know depressed people who cannot get out of bed and that possibility never arises for them.  I know I am lucky that I am able to force myself to function. Besides, I am too anxious to lay around with my own thoughts.

The constant anxiety; worry about not measuring about to others standards, worry about meeting my own unreachable expectations wears me out and then I become depressed, melancholic and uncomfortable in my own skin.   I feel backed into a corner and know that my life is going downhill from this moment on.

I never feel suicidal, but I do have my downcast existential moments where I wonder if I should just give up and live in a cave by myself.

Then something magical happens.

I open the dresser draw and put on my running shorts, shirt and sox.  I tie up the laces to my shoes and then get the MP3 player and wireless headphones.  I create music playlists often and today I start out listening to Mary J. Bilge’s solo version of the song called One (written by Bono).

My feet hit the pavement as I hear the rich, soulful, warm voice of Ms. Bilge.  It is like the depression is lifting already.  My legs are sore and stiff, but I feel myself loosening up as I begin my five mile run.  I run about thirty miles per week and I am now sixty-five years old.  I take a moment to marvel at those facts.

Mary is singing, “Have you come here for forgiveness?  Have you come to raise the dead?  Have you come here to play Jesus to the lepers in your head?”

I listen to the lyrics and melody as the sweat pours down my face and I am amazed that she is perfectly describing my descent into hell and her voice is raising me out of purgatory.  I keep looking for forgiveness and acceptance from others when it needs to come from within.  I know that this is also a catchphrase like you cannot love others until you love yourself.  Catchphrases can also be true.

Many folks take anti-depressants and anti-anxieties.  I prefer to run. Running changes my brain chemistry where the endorphins are released.   They make me feel alive, alert, excited and present.  I notice my legs rotating faster over the asphalt.  I am amazed at how fast this senior citizen/social security eligible man is running and gratified to know that this man is me.

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