When depression creeps in, I find myself avoiding the harshness of the day by sleeping. I crave the numbness that sleep provides, and it becomes increasingly difficult to leave the dark, enveloping folds of my blankets come morning. But it's dangerous to give in to the lull of sleep. Not only do I neglect my children and my duties, sleep does nothing to break me from the grip of depression. It is a false and all too temporary reprieve. I know what truly works: Early morning running, healthy eating, lots of sunshine, and remembering to take my medicine. But it's awfully hard to remind myself off all that when the alarm goes off at 5 am and the softness of my bed invites me to ignore the world.