Depression is a tricky monster, one that climbs in from the shadows when you least expect it, and then plunges you into a dark hole with no visible escape route. It strikes indiscriminately. For me, the monster made a return visit about a month ago, coinciding with what would have been my dad’s birthday, which is followed closely by the anniversary of his death, a double blow to my heart.

In the midst of grappling with the still-present sting of grief and loss, I’ve found myself sinking deeper into the crevices of depression. Staring at my computer each morning feels like being enveloped by an oppressive fog. Doing anything other than sleep requires massive effort when I feel like any glimmer of hope or joy has been shut down. Frustratingly, my migraine symptoms have gotten better as my depression increases, two opposing lines in the graph of my life.

My psychiatrist added a new medication, and I am cautiously optimistic. But, being only on Day 2, the climb out of the depression hole feels daunting. I’ve been here before. I know I’ll reach the surface again, but clawing to the top takes so much more than slipping a pill in my mouth each day.

To anyone who finds themselves in this hole with me, know that you are not alone. The poet Rumi says, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” May we find solace in our scars, knowing that they are a testament to our strength and resilience in the face of depression. And may we emerge from the fight against this monster renewed and revitalized, ready to embrace the light once more.