I’m going to violate one of my son’s rules of writing and lay out my message rather than hiding it within an anecdote.

It’s no secret to anyone on the planet that I stepped into a depression two years ago and have been wallowing there ever since.  I remind myself that what I feel stems not from “depression” but “situational sadness”, what social scientists used to call “a normal reaction to an abnormal situation”.  Death, divorce, distance.  The three Ds of my life adding up to Doldrums and Despair.

Before all that began, I started down this public path of self-improvement, and I stayed on it.  I know this has led to some uncomfortable reading.  But I had determined to reach my best self.  My motivation shifted, but my determination never flagged.  So on I went.  My mood sank and I wavered.  Nonetheless, I persisted.

A while back, I posted the ten things never to say to someone facing tragedy.  Today I’d like to share “the best advice I’ve gotten for dealing with sadness and grief”.  “Get help” did not make the list, by the way.   Talk-therapy works for some.  I have tried it a few times over the last forty years.  For various reasons not worth recounting, it’s not my cup of tea.  It works for many, but not for all.  Nor did taking a course appeal to me, or joining a group.  I won’t belittle any of these recommendations.  If they work for you, marvelous.  Certainly, employ those techniques.  I recommend them to many of my clients.

So what is working?  Two things:  Water and exercise.  Yes!  Drink water; and move your butt.  I’ve heard these two admonishments off and on over the years from doctors, family, and friends.  I’ve even given the same advice to others.  But after the last two years of intense and sometimes maudlin self-reflection, I’ve decided that drinking water and exercising critically impact my ability to unleash my inner joyfulness.

I started drinking more water in earnest again two weeks ago when a scary cardiac episode turned out to be dehydration.  As always happens, my efforts tapered after a week.  Then last weekend, my son said, “Mom, are you drinking enough water?”   He’s big on water, that one. After a gloomy exchange, he texted me in all  caps, DRINK WATER.  I grabbed a glass and kept it filled all weekend.

As for exercise, that’s just common sense.  If we sit and stagnate, our limbs grow rigid, our hearts close off to the world, and our minds shut down.  I know about vitamin D and sunshine.  I vaguely understand that movement stimulates the production of endorphins, those natural opiates.  Perhaps the effect lies in the purely physical.  I think it’s more.  I think when we lose ourselves to the motions of exercise, our mind and whatever flicker of spirit or soul dwells within come to that focus as well.  We harmonize our being.

So here I am:  Effectively Monday, the first day of my workweek after the holiday.  I ache in every fiber of my being from yardwork, closet-cleaning, and laundry.  I pushed myself to add regular time to my stepper routine this weekend.  I drank so much water my back teeth floated.  I started the weekend in an ill-concealed funk which exploded on Sunday during a phone call with my sister.  But I pushed through.  (I give Joyce partial credit for listening.)

The Key to Happiness?  Well, find your own —  happiness lives inside of you, and only you can release it.  For me, drinking lots of water and moving my body enables me to quiet my troubled mind and let the rays of joy begin to  pierce through the muck that’s settled on them.  For you it might be dark chocolate and binge-watching chick flicks; or hours of reading Sara Teasdale outloud.  But the key exists; and you can find it.  Don’t look for your joy to come from outside.  It dwells in you behind a shuttered door that only you have the power to open.

It’s the fifth day of the thirty-first month of My [Never-Ending] Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.