Sometimes You Just Need To Move.
I was deeply depressed freshman year of college.
My Mom had died, I’d been disowned, I was $10,000 in college loan debt,
and I had just found out that the dorms would be closed for Thanksgiving.
I had nowhere to go.
I was living in NY, far, far from California. I literally had a quarter in my wallet. And I was literally going to have to ask someone if they would be willing to take me home. This was pathetic.
I felt incredibly lonely and terribly, terrifically sad.
I was sinking. I felt heavy and dark deep stormy gray. I didn’t want to get out of bed. All I wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up.
I wanted God to erase my life..
He didn’t.
I stayed in bed for 2 days. I knew I needed help.
I knew I needed to move.
I went to the nurse and said,
“I’ve got to talk to someone.” The college gave 4 sessions free. Free counseling. What a huge gift!
The psychiatrist was firm. I had to start taking care of myself, or…
I cried the whole session. Sobbed. He handed me tissue
after tissue, one by one.
I thought it odd that he didn’t just give me the box. It made each tissue deliberate. And then I realized, he did this so he could keep
reaching out to me. He was helping me take care of myself, blow by blow.
The box was empty by the end of our session. I wanted to buy him another box, but couldn’t with only a quarter to my name.
He gave me homework.
He asked me, what was one thing that used to do that gave me joy.
I told him nothing would work.
He said that he didn’t ask that.
I told him I used to love to dance. I used to love to move.
He told me that my homework was that I had to dance for an hour a day or I was not to come back.
He wasn’t warm.
I told him I didn’t want to.
He said that he didn’t ask that.
He acted like he didn’t care. His whole focus was,
WOULD I DO IT?
This bugged me. I wanted him to care. I didn’t say anything except, a begrudging, yes.
The first day I forced myself to go dancing. It was stupid and a complete waste of time.
The second day, it was horribly boring and I knew that wasted this time.
The third day, I was really pissed, so I took music. I felt angry, and I moved awkwardly and harshly.
The fourth day I filled the time up with a lot of leaps, drops, and some runs.
The fifth day, I danced. Truly danced. Not very good, but I moved.
I went back to the Dr.
He asked if I’d done it.
I said yes.
That was it.
I asked why he didn’t ask if I’d liked it?
He said that that wasn’t really important, only that I did it.
I asked him why?
He said,
“Now you know you can make yourself do what you don’t want to do. With that knowledge you can do anything.”
I told him that it was important to me that I enjoyed my time.
I laughed. For the first time in 10 days.
I got it. He had helped me. In so many ways, not only to move mentally, emotionally, and physically, but also in wanting to care about me.
I asked if I could give him a huge hug.
Where are you frozen, stuck in gray, hurting?
Where do you need a hug? Or who do you know who could use one?
Sometimes all you need to do is… move.
