Year 5. Day 2. Celebrating Life.

Last night wasn't the greatest one for sleeping. It wasn't the worst one either. I wonder if my sleep schedule is possibly so sensitive to caffeine that the tiny cup of tea that I had at the Korean restaurant last night could have thrown things off? Or maybe I need to adjust the amount of melatonin I'm taking to sleep again... Guess I'll have to watch and wait on that one.

Thinking about the fact that I have U2 tickets is still bringing a smile to my face.

It's year 5, day 2. I feel like celebrating that these days. I think it's hard to explain unless you've been through the kind of depression I experienced for seven years, followed by that remarkable moment of healing, a few very good years, and then two very challenging years. It's probably hard to explain unless you've had the experience of being two days shy of the 4th anniversary of your healing, and for the first time in four years, as you ran through the mental "am I depressed" checklist, you realized that the honest answer was "I don't think so, but I don't know." "I don't know" is a pretty hard thing to hear when you've been clinging to healing. All of that comes together to have me in a place of wanting to celebrate each day that I am able to get out of bed. Each day that I wake with a commitment to find joy somewhere in the day. Each day that is maybe even just a tiny bit less "low" than some of the other days.

I did a bunch of health research on the weekend. I'll probably talk about some of it when I've had the time to process a bit further. I'm in a place of re-evaluating a number of things to do with my health and daily life. Budgeting. Making some lifestyle and diet changes. Just generally trying to do everything possible to recover from the place I've been for the last few years. To choose life. To be deeply joyful.

For the last day or so, the beginning of my favorite Psalm has been playing through my head and reminding my heart of healing and hope. It was a Psalm that I encountered in the days when I was first realizing that that evening of conversation and prayer with my friend on November 1, 2005 was far more potent than I realized. I knew I felt better, but it was a slow process after so many years of depression for me to be able to acknowledge and say with deep confidence and an incredibly grateful heart that I'd been healed. It was in that time period that I came across Psalm 116, which still holds incredible (and maybe even deeper) meaning for me now.

The verses that have been repeating in my head read:

I love the Lord for he heard my voice.
He heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I have breath.

Amen and amen. This is a day to celebrate that my cry for mercy was heard, and is heard. And I will call on him as long as I have breath.