This past month has been hard. I've been in the trenches battling a particularly hard bout of depression and anxiety. Getting back from Christmas was hard, the New Year was hard and being cold all day every day is hard.

Apparently, this is the coldest New York winter in everyone's memory and by God, it's been brutal. I can barely park my car because of the ice wall that's formed along the sides of each street.

I haven't wanted to do anything but sit in my room, watch Dexter or Revenge (both great choices when you're already depressed) and knit my shawl. I don't want to go out, I don't want to see people. I just want to sit alone and sleep and feel sad. But, friends, this is counterproductive behavior and I don't want to be sad, miserable and lonely. I didn't bust my ass at graduate school for two years and move to New York City to sit in a basement apartment and knit alone.

So, I joined the Y, I've forced myself out of the house. I've talked to friends about how I'm feeling. I even went to the doctor. I hope I'm coming around, the last few days were a little better. I no longer feel like a boulder is sitting on my chest smooshing the air and light out of my soul. That's what depression feels like, like my soul is sick.