One year ago today, I was somewhere else.

And I’m still dealing with the after effects of the experience.

I have never considered myself someone who is easily jostled by the curve balls that life occasionally lobs my way.

But here I am, one year on, and I’m still dealing with it.

I don’t like to use the D word, because it fills me with unfair preconceived and inaccurate notions of weakness and limitation.

However, having recently decided to make whatever positive changes that are within my power to make, to put myself where I would rather be, I guess I recognize that it can only help me if I acknowledge what is going on, and has been going, for these last three hundred and sixty five days.

The truth is, I am depressed. Not in any easily diagnosed or readily solvable way. More like a “hurting to my core, feeling directionless and a variety of unhappy emotions” kind of way.

But this isn’t the end. Nor does it have to be. Every day that I move further and further away from the moment my depression began, I get closer and closer to the moment my depression will end.

And that is something to look forward to.