I had several hobbies I really enjoyed before my major depression became as severe as it eventually did. One of those hobbies was fish. Not fishing for them, but raising them in fish tanks. I enjoyed everything about their care, and maintenance of the tanks. I enjoyed watching the fish swim. I enjoyed watching them eat, and how they reacted to me in a limited way. The type of fish I kept varied from the extremely gentle and colorful – like neon tetras – to the extremely aggressive – had to be fed live fish. When depression ruled my life, I took no interest in my fish, their care, and maintaining of their environments. I honestly was not sure if I would ever enjoy that hobby again.

On one of my trips to my old house, I did retrieve a couple of my fish tanks. One was a bow front 55 gallon tank, and the other was a little two gallon tank with a cool lighting system. When I had time I set up both tanks. In the past, I decorated my big tanks with a natural looking theme. This time, I decided to go with a completely different theme for my 55 gallon tank. I have decorated it with bright colors. There are still many more things I would like to add to it – bubble treasure chests, more bright plants, and etc. – but I am going to have to take my time – money issues. I have enjoyed what I have done with the tank so far.

I want active – but not aggressive – fish. What I decided to go with is what people often call fancy gold fish. Specifically, I want a black moor – has big eyes – and a bubble headed gold fish. Since they can get fairly large I will only have 1 of each in my big tank. I have not decided what I want to go in the little tank.

Yesterday, my mother – she was out with a friend – brought me home a surprise. A pretty, little black moor. Instead of being the usual all black, he is black, with gold markings. He looks so small in the big tank, but I think he is enjoying himself. He is extremely active – swimming all over the place. I have decided to call him Otto. I picked that name because of a book I had when I was a child. I cannot remember the name of it, but I remember how the story goes.

Basically, the little boy in the story gets a goldfish. He is warned not to feed it too much because “something” could happen. He names the fish Otto. The boy – like any kid, especially me – decides he would really would like to find out what the “something” is. So he dumps a bunch of food in the fish bowl. It is not long before the little boy figures out what the “something” is. The fish begins to grow, and grow. Soon he is too big for his bowl. The little boy puts the fish in the bath tub. Very quickly the fish is too big for the bath tub. The fish continues growing too big for the various things the little boy places him in. Eventually, the fish is placed in the town swimming pool. It is at the point, that the man who sold the little boy the fish – and warned him about feeding him too much – shows up, and is able to shrink Otto back to his normal size.

I am finding it very exciting, and wonderful that I am taking an interest in an old hobby again. I did not realize how much I had missed it until I started setting up my tanks. What a glorious mark of progress in my depression treatment.

55 gallon tank

Otto

2 Gallon Tank with blue lighting

Last week – when I went to group – I had the opportunity to have some one-on-one time with my counselor. It is the first time we have done that in a while. It was good. I needed the time alone with her to hear some ideas she had about how to manage some of the things going on in my life right now. At the end of the session, she reminded me of the attitude I had when I first began seeing her. Here is an example of the conversations she, and I used to have.

Counselor: “Why kind of things do you do to distract yourself when you are experiencing anxiety, stress or depression symptoms.”

Me: “Go to bed, and sleep. That is the only thing that works”

Counselor: “What about going for a walk, and getting some fresh air?”

Me: “Nope. My asthma gets in the way of doing that.”

Counselor: “Have you thought about volunteering or doing things for other people?”

Me: “Can’t do it. I always feel bad because of my diabetes, and asthma. There is no way I can do anything for anyone else”

Counselor: “Reading? Writing down your thoughts?”

Me: “No, and no. I cannot concentrate enough to do those things. Besides, that takes effort. I would rather just spend time in bed.”

My depression had so much control over my life that I had an excuse, and reason why I could not do any of the things she suggested. At that time, it seemed like everything she was suggesting took too much effort. Even reading a book. Spending most of the day in my pajamas – in bed – was all I wanted to do. My counselor’s purpose for reminding me of all the excuses I used to make was to show me how much different my attitude is now, and how much my life has changed.

I have a much more full life now than I have had in years. It has a texture, and a flavor that I cannot recall experiencing before. When I think back to when I first started my depression treatment – looking for any excuse I could to keep from getting better – and compare what my life was like back then to what it is like now, I am amazed. I do not think my old self would even recognize the person I am now.

My counselor gave me a wonderful gift when she pointed out the changes in my attitude.