I’m not shy when it comes to my personal experiences with anxiety-related depression. However, there are two distinct camps on the topic of depression: those that do something about it, and those that don’t. I find myself in the former, taking my little pill every day (it’s getting smaller, too!), having done my rounds of therapy, and possessing an intense desire not to let this ever come between me and living.

Some say it’s too easy for me to say this without having experienced the depth of darkness that others seem to be in. Others agree with me: suck it up. I can’t really engage in the contest of “who’s more depressed? I deserve more sympathy! me me me!” Instead, I’m going to just focus on me, what I’m doing for me, and mostly, the “doing” part.

No, I’ve never entertained thoughts of suicide - not for one damn second. I couldn’t do that to my family, I’m sacked with too much responsibility, plus I was raised a “pull up your bootstraps” kind of gal. I have had a day or three of staying in bed (thankfully none in a good long while). Those days are hard, especially when you’re facing some unpredictable options. My imagination has a tendency to run wild with terror in the face of certain prospects (what if this? what if that? zomg, it’s too much!). If I don’t have the balls to face the issue, then I’ll slink back to that dark, cool spot on the bed and hide like a coward. Coward is the perfect term for it, as I consciously know what I’m doing and give myself shit for doing so the entire time. Nothing like being depressed AND giving yourself crap for it. I don’t care, though. I’m never going to that dark place again.

When I saw these prints on Etsy, I knew I had to have one. Their messages ring out loud and clear:

“Do something about it.”
“Get on with it already.”
“Quit your bellyaching.”
“Get your sh*t together.”

A simple, beautiful reminder to just do it (minus the swoosh).