According to the indications, the shelter is not too far away but it will still take me a few minutes to get there. I suppose H chose the order of all the places I’ll visit today so I wouldn’t take that long from one to the other. I would’ve done that, if I were the one planning. Plus, that way I don’t lose much time moving from one spot to the other and I can enjoy the day. It’s more efficient that way.

As I head to the animal shelter I wonder what kind of people I’ll meet there. So far I’ve met fabulous people that have made me happy with their kindness. It’s nice to see that there are people who can help others to accomplish things, even if these things are not strictly conventional. Knowing that there are people like the theatre geeks or Mr McDean make me have hope for the world.

I notice that for the first time in a long time I’m walking without listening to music. The last time this happened was because my headphones died and I hadn’t had the time to go and buy new ones. I normally can’t go out without my iPod because I just get bored to death, but today I don’t even feel the need to put the headphones on. My mind is just full of memories and anticipation that I don’t feel the need to drown my thoughts with music.

Music doesn’t only help to kill time in the tube or the bus, it’s also a shield from myself. If I’m not listening to music I can listen to my own thoughts and these are not the most cheerful ones. Sometimes listening to my own thoughts can push my to the edge and to be honest, I’m usually scared of the things I can think of. So when I listen to music I don’t necessarily have to pay attention to the tornado in my mind with pessimistic thoughts and confusion. Music helps me to focus on another thing instead of all the negative stuff surrounding me. I can listen to Dan Smith’s voice asking me if I’m going to age with grace and then I have two to options. One, I can actually think about that and get depressed because I’m certainly not aging with grace. Or two, I can just focus on his wonderful voice and think of his hair and how much I want to ruffle it, and his smile. Oh yes, that lovely smile.

Today… today I don’t feel scared of my thoughts because even if I think of something negative, there’s something I’m looking forward in the short time. That certainly helps. Plus, I really want to think and organise my own ideas and I don’t want the music to be background noise. H is doing all this for me, the least I can do is offer my full concentration to it.

I wonder why he chose an animal shelter. I never told him about how I’ve wanted to do charity or that I actually really love animals, neither have I told him about my condition as for him to think this would help me.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it and he just chose it because he likes it. That would make more sense, after all, he’s trying to show me his favourite places in the city with the goal of making me smile.

Anyhow, I’m just happy that I’m going to play with some animals in a few minutes. So I hurry, knowing that people there are actually expecting me. It’s surreal to think that my stranger is asking people to help, telling them that a girl named Maca will come and that they have to hand her a letter. It’s a good thing I told him my name; it would’ve certainly been more complicated without that. And it wouldn’t have been this fun if I had insisted on knowing his name. I remember the exact time when I “asked” for his name.

• • •

For the first in a long time, I had left home early, not because I went to bed early or because I had a good night sleep, on the contrary, because once again I hadn’t slept at all. I was tired but on time, which was a good thing because I was slower than usual and unless I wanted to kill myself in some stupid accident due to my clumsiness, I had to be extra careful. I was sure that by noon I would feel terribly and I would only want to go home, but attendance was compulsory on most of my courses so I couldn’t afford to miss more classes.

By this point I had been exchanging notes with my stranger for almost a month and it had become a daily thing, except for weekends when I stayed home and in my pyjamas unless I had to go out, meaning my mum dragged me out. I had to admit that finding a post-it was probably the main reason why I got up every morning, even if it had to be uni or something else.

My friends constantly told me that I should always give myself short time goals because I needed to feel a sense of accomplishment to feel better with myself. I almost never did. I always dreamt big and in a long term. I always looked forward to a far away future, and a future that was always uncertain. I never did much for myself in the present day. Moni used to tell me that I should finish all those stories I began, all those one shots I thought of, but I could never do it. I couldn’t be like her, who seemed to write and finish a whole book without a problem. I was always the one who had the idea but never finished it or continued it. She said that finishing a story, even if it was a one shot, would help me feel like I’m actually doing something.

Having something to look forward is not that easy. I normally would look forward to a movie or concert or a new season of my favourite shows, just to push me to keep going. But even those were always far apart and in the meantime I would have the time to feel miserable. But having those post-its actually gave me something to look forward every day. Something small yet important. Plus, I wanted to find it, not someone else, so I would wake up and go to my first class no matter what because maybe if I went later during the day the post-it wouldn’t going to be there anymore. And I wouldn’t feel complete until I left another post-it at the end of the day. It was like completing a circle every day by taking the note and then leaving one. It was like a small short time goal, the kinds my friends advised me to make. Even if these weren’t really important things, they were something and they were important to me.

That’s why even if I hadn’t slept at all the night before, even if I already felt like throwing up, I still left home and went for the post-it. By the time I reached the bench where I always found a note I was feeling feeble so I sat down and closed my eyes, hoping to feel better soon. Unconsciously, I reached to my right, knowing I would find a note there and even if I had my eyes closed, I found that piece of paper. Only then I opened my eyes to read it.

A collection of small victories can make you feel as good as one big victory, hence, well done for starting a new day. Keep going and don’t forget to smile (:

As usual, a smile crept to my lips after reading the note. That was pretty much like what my friends said about the short time goals. Small victories would pile up and give me that sense of achievement that I needed to feel a bit better with myself. If I changed my perspective I could realise that even leaving my bed in the morning was a small victory, especially for me. It wasn’t just getting up, it was gathering the courage to keep going even when all inside of me kept shouting to stay in bed and away from the outside world. Going to uni every morning was a small victory. Finding the post-it before someone else was a small victory. Leaving a note at the end of the day was also a small victory. During the day I could count many of these and seeing things from that perspective actually helped me to feel a bit better.

I read the note again before I pasted it inside the journal along with the many others which were all signed with a smiley face at the end. All these post-its were small victories and knowing that I had been gathering them all until then made me feel… well, special.

With no sleeping whatsoever the night before, with still a whole day ahead, I left that bench with the smile still on my lips and went to Uni. During the whole day I saw everything as small victories or small losses. It was a fun thing to do for a day and by the time I was heading home I was actually feeling quite well with myself because the amount of small victories was bigger than the amount of small losses.

During the day I had also being thinking how a complete stranger had helped me to go through so many times, and that stranger was someone whose name was a mystery for me. I couldn’t even say ‘thank you, John Smith’ or I don’t know, some other name. Many times I had wanted to ask this person for his or her name, but for some reason I felt like it was special because none of us knew the other, because it was a mystery. Because it felt great that a stranger, someone who wasn’t bound to help, was doing things for you. But still, I wanted to know without actually asking.

Sometimes the only way to get something it’s when you give something first.

Thank you, once again, for having the right words for me. I hope you also collected many small victories today  –Macarena

That was the first time I signed the note with my name and I did it with the hope that he would do the same. An invitation to give more information but without directly asking for it.

I left the note feeling so exposed. It was just my name and it wasn’t like it was some weird or made-up name, it was a very common one. I didn’t use my surname, so it wasn’t like someone was going to know it was me and not some other Macarena. It was just my name, not a picture of my face, but I still felt exposed.

The next day I was actually nervous, I didn’t know if this person had found my note or if this had got lost in the wind or something. I was nervous because I didn’t know if he was going to reply or not. By the time I got to the bench I wasn’t sure if my hands were shaking because they always shake or because I was nervous. I spotted the yellow post-it when I was still a few metres away from the bench and I almost ran towards it, but I didn’t because I’m in a terrible shape and because I just don’t run. It’s too dangerous for a girl like me.

I’m glad my notes actually help someone. I hope I can keep doing this, Macarena. By the way, I like your name (:

And that was it. No name at the end, not even a mention of his or her identity. This person simply rejected my invitation to break the barrier of anonymous people leaving post-its.

I tried to tell myself I wasn’t disappointed or hurt, but I couldn’t lie to myself. I really wanted to know who has behind all those kinds words, even if it was only knowing a name just to be sure of a gender. But clearly this person didn’t want to share that bit of information so I could only accept that. He was already doing a lot for me without having to, I couldn’t become greedy.

Well, not finding out his or her name was a small loss, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. It wasn’t the person exactly what helped me but the words and I didn’t need to know the name of the person, I just needed to keep listening to him or her and saying thanks in return.

At the end of the day I also left a note, wishing him a good weekend and I signed it as Maca, and since then I signed every other post-it the same way.

• • •

For a long time I was sad and a bit frustrated that my stranger never gave me his name but now I’m actually happy. It’s making all this more fun and memorable, and what’s life without good things to think of when you’re feeling down? No matter how this ends today, I’ll always remember this adventure as something special.

I stop when I realise I’ve finally arrived to the shelter. Right in front of me there’s what seems a house but with a sign that read GOOD HEART SHELTER and that it has a cute doggy and kitty cuddling together.

Feeling elated, I smile wide and I go right to the door, ready to meet kind people and adorable animals.

-:-:-

Thank you all for your comments. I'm glad you appreciate I'm dealing with depression, just remember endogenous depression is an illness, not a state as depression itself. It's different, due to this illness you are always depressed. It's way more complex than that, but to put it in rough terms.

Anyhow, you got the 200 pretty fast! I thought it was gonna take you longer so let's see if you now can get 250 votes. for the next update! It's a cute one.

Bel, xx