Sometimes You Just Need To Move
Sometimes You Just Need To Move.
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I was deeply depressed freshman year of college. Â
My Mom had died, I’d been disowned, I was $10,000 in college loan debt,Â
and I had just found out that the dorms would be closed for Thanksgiving. Â
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I had nowhere to go.
I was living in NY, far, far from California. I literally had a quarter in my wallet. And I was literally going to have to ask someone if they would be willing to take me home. This was pathetic.
I felt incredibly lonely and terribly, terrifically sad.
I was sinking. I felt heavy and dark deep stormy gray. I didn’t want to get out of bed. All I wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up.
I wanted God to erase my life..
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He didn’t.
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I stayed in bed for 2 days. I knew I needed help.
I knew I needed to move.
I went to the nurse and said,Â
“I’ve got to talk to someone.” The college gave 4 sessions free. Free counseling. What a huge gift!
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The psychiatrist was firm. I had to start taking care of myself, or…
I cried the whole session. Sobbed. He handed me tissue
after tissue, one by one.
I thought it odd that he didn’t just give me the box. It made each tissue deliberate. And then I realized, he did this so he could keep
reaching out to me. He was helping me take care of myself, blow by blow.
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The box was empty by the end of our session. I wanted to buy him another box, but couldn’t with only a quarter to my name.
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He gave me homework.
He asked me, what was one thing that used to do that gave me joy.
I told him nothing would work.
He said that he didn’t ask that.
I told him I used to love to dance. I used to love to move.
He told me that my homework was that I had to dance for an hour a day or I was not to come back.
He wasn’t warm.
I told him I didn’t want to.
He said that he didn’t ask that. Â
He acted like he didn’t care.  His whole focus was,
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WOULD I DO IT?
This bugged me. I wanted him to care. I didn’t say anything except, a begrudging, yes.
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The first day I forced myself to go dancing. It was stupid and a complete waste of time.
The second day, it was horribly boring and I knew that wasted this time.
The third day, I was really pissed, so I took music. I felt angry, and I moved awkwardly and harshly.
The fourth day I filled the time up with a lot of leaps, drops, and some runs.
The fifth day, I danced. Truly danced. Not very good, but I moved.
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I went back to the Dr.
He asked if I’d done it.
I said yes.
That was it.
I asked why he didn’t ask if I’d liked it?
He said that that wasn’t really important, only that I did it.
I asked him why?
He said,
“Now you know you can make yourself do what you don’t want to do. With that knowledge you can do anything.”
I told him that it was important to me that I enjoyed my time.
I laughed. For the first time in 10 days.
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I got it. He had helped me. In so many ways, not only to move mentally, emotionally, and physically, but also in wanting to care about me.
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I asked if I could give him a huge hug.
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Where are you frozen, stuck in gray, hurting?
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Where do you need a hug? Or who do you know who could use one?
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Sometimes all you need to do is… move.