Finally Some Sunshine

Finally Some Sunshine 

by Madison Seegmiller

A warm late morning on a Tuesday in Rio Branco, a city that lies on the west bank of the Acre River in western Brazil. That April morning roughly two years ago marks a relevant end and beginning to my life as I knew it. It was twenty years into my life, and all my days were blurring together based on the notion that I was living almost entirely in my thoughts. Think of a time when you were staring directly in front of you, suddenly you snap back into reality with the realization that your were open, and your body awake but you were somewhere deep in your thoughts. Well that is how I would describe the way I lived for much of my time. In addition to that I had extreme fatigue. If I didn’t feel utterly numb, I was consumed by a deep sadness. When I felt one of those ways I often wished for the other. A third option didn’t have a place in my mind. 

This particular day consisted of none of that. I woke up without dread consuming me, but to the contrary to my typical reaction I did not over analyze it. Truthfully there was no analyzing of any of my behavior that day. I was present in each moment. Looking back I don’t know why it took me so long to recognize the unfamiliarity of feeling content.

It felt similar to the mindset of a child in the way that I handled each step of my day with the lightheartedness you would as a kid. Here is how the day went. After I woke up from the sun glaring through my window, I stood up with a clarity of mind, as if my nine hours of sleep actually did its job. I made myself something to eat. It was my usual, banana egg pancake. One banana, one egg, and  I felt subtle satisfaction from the simplicity of the recipe. I had not yet noticed that my brain was focusing on one task at a time. First getting the ingredients together, then whisking the bright yellow egg, and the under ripened banana. I briefly noticed the beautiful yellow colors and smooth consistency of the pancake mix. As I made breakfast I was not anxious about how I would feel an hour or at my most dreaded time of day, which was around seven o’clock pm. I was simply making breakfast. 

The only company I had was my dog Joon, an energetic young Lab. I remember feeling content while I sat at my table centered in my studio apartment. I decided to call my mom which is something I do daily. At this time my depression had become extremely severe, and on the bad days it was harder to reach out to people. In hindsight it seems silly how guilty I would feel that I was bringing people down. I worried that if they were having a good day, I would ruin it. I would especially worry about this with my mom. I hated that she worried so much about me, and I know so badly she wanted to hear that things were getting better. I don’t remember the specific reason for my call, but I do know there was no heaviness involved. The conversation was casual, but I was doing my fair share of talking. I hadn’t yet realized this next very simple moment would be a landmark, and a story I would tell more than once. 

​Still to this day my precious puppy Joon is a Labrador retriever, and that is exactly what she lives for. Retrieving. We don’t allow balls in the house because she gets so intense, but she is extremely resourceful. That morning while I was talking to my mom she found a plastic water bottle lid and set it on my leg. Without a thought I placed it on my glass table in front of me. Suddenly Joon's fat belly is sliding across my table with the goal of retrieving the small piece of plastic before she reaches the edge. Typically I would have yelled “Joon no!” and maybe gotten irritated, but rather smiled in shock, and immediately recognized a combination of love, joy, gratitude, and humor.  

​It would take me another essay twice as long to go into all the time and effort I put into getting feeling better, and in no way am I trying to portray that things happen over night. Possibly some pain never fully goes away, but merely am I highlighting my belief that things always get better. We all have unique causes, and resolutions to our pain but I believe a lot of the stuff in the middle is where we can relate. My pain began with the death of my father when I was a child, and this day represents my sunrise. I know it doesn’t seem like a life changing story, but for me it marked the beginning of a few life changing years. This was the day I first recognized my clouds of depression beginning to thin, and I finally got some sunshine. 

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7/28/2019

Madison Seegmiller