
10/12/2025
Depression seeps into life so quietly that one day you wake up and realize even the simplest things feel unbearably heavy. It’s waking up to mornings that feel insurmountable, when lifting yourself out of bed or brushing your teeth feels like scaling a mountain. It’s watching the world move in color while your own life feels paused in grayscale. And perhaps the hardest part—it’s wearing a brave smile while quietly coming undone inside.
This was the landscape of Nita Sweeney’s life. For years, she lived beneath the dense fog of depression and anxiety. A writer in her forties, she carried the ache of unfulfilled dreams and the sting of self-doubt, haunted by a whisper that said she was too old, too broken, too late. Therapy and medication kept her afloat, but she still felt suspended in place—longing for something, anything, to spark her back to life.
Then one day, while scrolling through the internet, she came across a phrase that caught her breath: “Depression hates a moving target.” Five simple words—but they pierced through the fog. Almost instinctively, she reached for an old pair of sneakers, stepped outside, and ran—just a few steps, just to the end of the block. It was messy, awkward, exhausting. But it was movement. And in that small, trembling run, a faint glimmer of light broke through the dark.
That fragile beginning became the heart of her memoir, Depression Hates a Moving Target—a raw, tender story about how running became both her medicine and her miracle. Through her journey, Nita gifts us lessons that reach far beyond running—truths about healing, resilience, and the quiet grace of starting over.
Here are six of those truths:
1. Healing begins in the smallest motion.
Nita didn’t chase marathons—she began with thirty seconds of uneven jogging. Every step was a dialogue between her courage and her doubt. Yet those shaky seconds grew into minutes, into miles, into races. Her story reminds us that transformation often begins not with a leap, but with a hesitant step—one that gains power through gentle repetition.
2. Movement soothes the chaos within.
When depression pulled her into endless loops of thought, running interrupted the storm. The rhythm of breath and stride steadied her. Her body became an anchor, her mind began to quiet. Each run didn’t just strengthen her physically—it offered a moment of peace, a temporary stillness inside the noise.
3. We heal more deeply when we’re not alone.
At first, she ran in secret, afraid of being judged. But joining a local running group changed everything. Surrounded by others, she found community where she least expected it. What began as strangers became support, laughter, and belonging. Nita’s story reminds us that recovery is not a solitary race—it’s often the people beside us who help us keep going.
4. Self-kindness is its own endurance.
With every mile, the inner critic followed: too slow, too awkward, too late. But she learned to respond gently—to say, I’m here. I’m trying. And that’s enough. Her greatest muscle became compassion. Endurance, she discovered, is built not only through lungs and legs, but through the tender art of forgiving yourself as you grow.
5. Purpose lights the path when life feels hollow.
When she signed up for her first race, fear tried to hold her back. But now, her movement had meaning. Each finish line became proof that she could endure, that her story wasn’t over. Even the smallest goal gave her a reason to rise, a reason to keep stepping forward when despair said there was no point.
6. Healing doesn’t mean the darkness disappears—it means you learn to walk with it.
Running didn’t erase her depression. The shadows still came. But now, she had something to reach for—a rhythm, a ritual, a way back to herself. Healing, Nita realized, isn’t about escaping the dark; it’s about remembering where the light lives, and how to find your way toward it again.
Nita Sweeney’s Depression Hates a Moving Target is a quiet anthem of hope. It honors the strength it takes to begin again, to breathe through pain, to reach for life when it feels far away. It’s about how movement can become prayer, community can become healing, and persistence can become love.
And maybe that’s the truth she leaves us with: if depression despises movement, then every step forward—no matter how small—is an act of defiance, of courage, and of hope. One breath. One step. One gentle return to yourself at a time.
BOOK: https://amzn.to/3KMemnN
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