Mental Health and the Sound

 This story has been posed anonymously and is meant to reflect the changing weather in the Puget Sound.

Taking a sample of water in order to see what is living inside it is called taking a plankton tow. A special type of net and process is used to ensure the best sample of plankton and algae. I take a lot of these tows for my work with the aquarium, most of the time just for fun. In the winter, I’ll try to take a plankton tow occasionally. This is often disappointing, the rain and cold discourages the phytoplankton who need sunlight and warmth to survive, and without them there is nothing for the zooplankton to eat. Plankton come in waves, to find something amazing I have to know the right time. Plankton populations spike at the beginning of the summer, but quickly burn out and dip down only to get a burst of life again at the end of the season before finally dying until the next summer. Through trial and error, I found the best times to borrow my plankton samples from their home. I’ll see blimps of crab larvae as they swim rapidly under the microscope lenses; tiny, young jellyfish enungulating through my petri dish; dozens of barnacle larvae crawling along; and hundreds of perfect spherical diatoms dispersed in this lively little environment that is constantly overlooked. When it gets colder, all of this will be gone.

 I hit lulls in my motivation and mental state. I used to get lost in the vicious cycle of self-disappointment for not being able to fix my dips in emotion, which only further degraded my mental health. After all, so many peers of mine could take on so much more stress than I could with smiles on their faces, I couldn’t justify my frowning. Over time, this way of thinking faded into the background of my mind, and the idea of justification seemed more and more inane. There is no justification for the cycles of plankton, it’s just something that happens.

With my knowledge of this cycle, I took a life lesson from the ocean. Everything has its cycles; I have no reason to be ashamed of mine. Frowning has always been as much a part of me as smiling has been; I wouldn’t consider myself a pessimist, though. I am hopeful, and—more so over time—I’ve come to love and appreciate my life for what exists outside of me. The way my depression affects me is as natural as the way the seasons affect the plankton, and there is no way nor reason for me to try to make it go away. I’ve found ways to love existing even when I burn out or hit a stop in overall happiness; I feel I’ve grown to the point where I don’t feel angry at myself for the way my emotions express, and I can manage my motivation effectively to remain productive. During the winter, I can still find plankton in the water, just less of them and different species than during the summer; during a lull, I can still find pieces of life that make me feel happy, they just might come from different places.