I wish living with anxiety and depression could be easily explained, but it's not. All I can say is that the up and down rollercoasting (often, within hours) is exhausting. People more intelligent than I am have come up with clever metaphors and examples, but at the end of the day - they're just that - ideas that we use to attempt to compare an idea to something familiar. The dragging-yourself-out-of-bed difficulty of it all is lost in the translation.
But on those days when you are free and hope finds a way to radiate itself like sunshine through your lifestream, it feels like the moment before you open the front door, your friend waiting outside in the car to take you somewhere. Like hearing your favorite song playing in the grocery store as you're in the bread aisle. It feels like those golden hours peeking over the mountain and you're 10 years old, running around in cutoff shorts and tennis shoes with a lace that came undone. Like being on the swings pumping higher and higher before you decide to leap off, flying in the air, if only for a moment. It feels like laughing so much that you cannot see, and later when you go to tell someone, you cannot even start the story without giggling. It feels like you had to be there. Like getting into the car and deciding to go somewhere without planning anything in advance. It feels like a day where you lived your life instead of thinking about it.