It’s been a week since I started the final stage of my medication taper, dropping from 300mg a day of Wellbutrin down to 150mg, and I feel pretty good. Although I keep (metaphorically) looking over my shoulder to see if my depression is lurking, my symptoms are the mildest they’ve been in two and a half years. The stress and anxiety created by quarantine in the time of COVID notwithstanding, I register a sense of optimism for the present and the future. After such a long drought, it’s a strange sensation, but I like it. I find myself less concerned with potential future scenarios, whether they include continued good days or a relapse into the darkness. Rather than game-planning what may or may not happen, I’m experiencing just being where I am at the moment. I think this is what “being present” means.
I recognize this feeling as hope and it brings to mind a line from one of my favorite books, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. She writes,
Hope is not about proving anything. It’s about choosing to believe this one thing, that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us.
Seriously, Jerk Brain? 