I can feel it again.

That melancholy, the dragging not-quite-depression, the cloying bitterness of self-disappointment is sneaking back into my heart.

I don’t know why. I don’t know how.

Life is good. Life is so good, it’s almost hard to believe. My marriage has never been better, I’m working my dream job, and I’m constantly aware of how many blessings my life has been filled with over the past year.

So why is this feeling coming back?

My husband senses it, and I know it’s scaring him.

Not again, he’s probably thinking. Not this again.

He was a saint for surviving it last time; would I blame him if he couldn’t endure it again? I’m not sure I could.

How do I break through this funk before it spirals into the territory of no-coming-back? How do you stop depression in its tracks?