Natalie Weiss

This winter has been especially difficult. Gray day after gray day, lingering injuries that diminish the fulfillment of running, few and far reasons between to leave my apartment.

Since January 1, I’ve been filling out a planner each morning and evening. This past week, I missed two days. The motivation just wasn’t there. I’m filling out the recap of this week now, and, while painful, it is a good reminder of where I was, where I am. There’s a prompt that reads, “The main struggle I faced this past week was…” I answered: “Depression – this season really snuck up on me, and I don’t have the usual distractions to turn to (alcohol, food). It’s apparent in my entries just how much I’ve been struggling – in spirit, emotionally, and with motivation.”

I’m on Day 28 of the Whole30 program. The Whole30, in short, is an elimination diet structured to reveal food intolerances and dependencies. This is my fourth time completing the full program, and it’s actually been fairly easy. There are better food products on the market now. I can make meals with compliant, sugar free ketchup, bbq sauce, and even plant-based queso. I am also much better at cooking and have more tools at my disposal than ever before. The meals are the easy part. The difficult part is feeling like a social outcast. There are very few restaurants I can go to that offer 100% compliant meals. I can’t drink alcohol. My diet is squeaky clean, and, while ordering a club soda and lime is just as easy as (and cheaper and less calories than) ordering a beer, hanging out late into the night with others being fueled by alcohol is not. Neither I nor my friends are doing anything wrong – we just have different intentions.

I can no longer use alcohol or food binges as distractions. To be clear, I never wanted to. But life happens, and a drink out sometimes turns into a couple drinks and then a shot and then another. There’s a time and place for a good night out on the town. But I recognized that I was partaking in quite a few too many nights out on the town. I was distracting myself. I was gaining weight. I was waking up on the weekend hungover and empty. I was not living in alignment with my values, my goals, my purpose. So I chose to do the Whole30 to start the new year, and I know I am better for it.

Those two things can exist together – I am better for doing the Whole30 – I am more clear-headed, focused, and intentional with my behaviors – yet I am experiencing a season of depression that’s reminiscent of my pre-medication days. I search for a why. I always search for a why. When I was in college, I entitled one of my writings, “Centered around the why-axis.” I still love that title. I am still centered around the why-axis. Hell if I remember specifically what centered around the y-axis actually means in mathematical terms. But in this life, I am focused on the why. I center my life, my actions, my thoughts around the why. The why is the point from which all other things commence.

So I search for the why of my depression. Am I not eating enough? Am I not eating the right things? Is it the weather, the lack of natural vitamin D? Am I not drinking enough water, or drinking too much caffeine? Am I not socializing enough, or in the most fulfilling ways? Should I be reading, writing, playing guitar – in short, exercising my creativity – more? There are so many potential whys. And, yes, they may all be factoring into this season of depression. It may be all of them; it may be none of them. Shit if I know. Sometimes the search for the why is fruitless. Inconclusive. Answers do not always come.

The follow up prompt in my planner to the one about struggling is this: “…and if I were advising or mentoring someone dealing with the same struggle, I’d advise them to…” I answered: “Do the little things – drink water, eat three full meals, take your meds, give yourself time and space whenever needed to feel what you feel, allow stress to work through your body, and find rest. Get blood work done, and advocate for your health.” I recognized as soon as I wrote it that this is wisdom. Extremely hard-earned, hard-fought wisdom. Wisdom that has almost cost my life. 21-year-old me did not have this wisdom. 27-year-old me did not have this wisdom. It has come over years and years of turmoil. And yet, it’s not necessarily even the full story. Each season of depression is always a little different than the last. No two seasons are ever the exact same.

And so I soldier on, keeping this wisdom front of mind, yet weary and ready for the cessation of this season. I soldier on, in search of whys instead of distractions.