14.  Stillness
One of the most insidious aspects of depression is how it robs you of movement.  You are so drained of energy, so devoid of caring, that sitting becomes your norm.  Sitting or lying down.  And you don't do anything, because you don't care about anything.  You just sit still.

The best indicator of how deep my depression is is how much time I want to spend in bed.  Not the usual "I love naps" time in bed.  No, this is I can't think of anything to do but go to bed.  The only thing that comes into my mind to do is go to bed.  If all I want to do is be in the bed, I am in a very bad way.

Knitting, however, is being still and getting something accomplished.  It's one of  the best things about knitting to me --- that you can sit still and have something to show from your motionlessness.  And when your body is still, and the clicking of the needles and the movement of the yarn are in that glorious rhythm, you aren't only still, you're peaceful.  You're meditative.  Never say to a knitter that knitting isn't therapeutic.

Depression --- at least mine --- makes my mind race when I'm trying to rest.  I can't fall asleep without copious amounts of drugs, because racing through my head are all the things I didn't do that day, all the things I didn't do that week, all the things I haven't done since I've been out of a job.  Trying to keep up with those sprinters are all the pronouncements of what a failure I am, how hopeless my life is, how deeply and permanently I'm damaging my children.  Depression makes you look still, but your heart and mind are speeding along lonely, treacherous, unrealistic roads.

I long ago realized that if I could have any single non-material thing in my life, it would be peace of mind.  Peace of mind and stillness go hand-in-hand to me.  And they are both powerful and powerfully healing.


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