Thanks for brushing your teeth

Bobbie Osborne via Getty Images

Every minute of every day there are millions of people silently listing the pros and cons of living. We tenderly maneuver out of a fretful slumber and swim through the strongest current of temptation that begs us to just sink back down sweetly, with eyes closed…indefinitely.

Then comes the task of balancing thought and doubt. What do I really need to get up for? An absolute answer beckons me upright with the promise of bitter aftertaste. Coffee.

Then, if I have managed to wake up in time to not be late for everything, it’s off to the shower to lather off the foul desire to quit everything. Minutes later, much less fuzzy and frowsy, I stumble along a path of poor decisions strewn about my floor and decide what I can wear to cover my battered mental state.

Appropriately bandaged, I head back to my steamy resting place to locate a toothbrush and apply the last drop of a minty paste out of a hard pressed tube. One more thing I continue to do each day that proves I am participating in this thing called life. Look at this flattened tube, once fat and firm, brimming with purpose. Each morning I get up I squeeze from it a little bit of meaning.

This is not a joke or an exaggeration, this is every morning with a chronic mood disorder. Choices made are victories; tasks accomplished are life achievements.

If you are reading this and can relate, Good Morning my friend. If you feel alone please know, from one survivor to another, that you are not. There is no easy cure for the plague that is trying to pox your soul. There is no pill to swallow that can bring back the time you have lost. But as long as there is another morning, there can always be another chance to brush clean.

Take notice world. We woke up today. We walked through our front door into the possibility of a day in which things matter. We showed up — bruised and disheveled — but with fresh breath and able, albeit rarely willing, to smile. And today, that is enough!

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