Last night I had a pretty amazing experience, coming out of a canyon I had just been hiking in. Off to the west I could see a storm. Clouds, rain, lightning. As I continued hiking I could tell the storm was moving east—toward me. I wondered if it would get to me before I made it to my car or if it would sputter out and die. I stopped to take pictures, but then quickened my pace, just to be safe.
I continued to watch the storm moving closer to me, until rain finally hit me. It felt good at first because it was so hot, but soon it started pouring on me. Not only was I drenched in sweat, but also got soaked from the rain. I’m not a runner, but I ran as fast as I could down the switchbacks that led to the trailhead and my car.
After making it to the shelter of my car I thought about how this is what my life has been like lately. The view of the storm was absolutely stunning, beautiful. There have been a lot of good things happening in my life—blessings and things to look forward to. But there has been a storm, too. Cold, wet and dark. The rain didn’t diminish the beauty, but the beauty didn’t take away the water soaking and chilling me.
The storm has been taking its toll. My depression and anxiety have been very, very bad. I still see the good, I still remember to be grateful, and I do know that gratitude helps, but it also doesn’t just automatically cure mental illness.
I feel like I’ve been running—as fast as I absolutely can! But the storm has followed me everywhere I go. It’s pouring, it’s cold, it’s dark, and it’s relentless. I’m trying as hard as I can to find shelter, to remain grateful for the beauty there is, but the storm is still here. All I can do is continue trying and be hopeful that someday it will stop or that I will find that shelter.