I’m not gonna lie, I’m depressed. Not that I was lying before
when I pretended that I wasn’t. Life is a silly game, and a beautiful dance, It takes skill – to weather life’s storms.
(And we’ve been in a blow-your-mind-knock-you-down kind of hurricane!)
It’s a special skill to endure, to survive, to not
get
depressed. Even for people who aren’t inclined, as my doctor so kindly said. I’m inclined, thank you very much. My mind and body, the know well the slippery incline toward this sink hole.
Still, no matter what I know, no matter what I am told, what I tell myself or read, or have in my head from doctors, the evil voices in my head say – FAILURE.
I’m doing my best. I’ve walked fifteen miles this week and let me tell you it took me a whole month at least to gather up the energy to dust off the treadmill, plug it in. To only do that. Just to start, to begin again when I’m so damned tempted to give in to this beast,
the dark nights, the soulless thoughts, and the depravity which is my companion,
depression.
It’s a sinkhole.
Lordy, if there weren’t so many counting on me, I think I might collapse. You see I don’t care about myself and that’s a big part of the problem. I don’t care about me.
I live for others, mostly my kids, my mother, this house, and our life. I know this is wrong. And I’m not lazy, though the voices tell me I am. I know money doesn’t equate success, or my value as a person, and yet still, I quake in my soul as I lie in bed, hiding away under the heavy down comforter, with quick glances at the clock.
4:30 am is too early to get up, 5:00, 5:40, finally dragging my sorry self out of bed.
I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to take care of everyone. I don’t want to be an enabler.
And I am angry. Angry to still have an adult child freeloading living in my house sleeping till noon. Angry to have a teenager whose beautiful life is spiraling out of control into a major anxiety disorder. Angry because my husband still enjoys things, wants to be with friends and in this case spends a few minutes of music making downstairs. I don’t enjoy anything right now. I am angry that we cannot figure out what’s going on in my little boy’s brain. Angry that my teenager cannot, will not, does not read books. Angry that everyone gets hungry, on schedule, three times a day. I’m even angry that I have the space and freedom to go the three-hour doctor appointments with my mother up to three times a week. I’m angry about my priviledge. I am so sick of being angry.
This is simply part of the thermometer of my spirit telling me I’m
far gone, depressed.
And so, machine like, for a week now I have put on my workout clothes and the beautiful running shoes I earned this summer. I walk downstairs, set the machine to three miles, turn on the book of Hebrew, or Luke, or Matthew. and I listen for themes of Jesus seeing or hearing women.
I listen hard, I listen angry about this too, feeling that this is also something stupid that I accept, something about not caring about myself. Angry that the Church pretends women aren’t fully human, made in God’s image, just like men. I’m angry as I quickly jot a note on a piece of tape I’ve attached to the treadmill, looking for themes from the creator God, the Holy One.
It is a scribbled prayer,
Jesus sees me.
Jesus hears me that I’m angry
and depressed.
Jesus cares.
And people care, so many good people who reach for me. Know me. Care. And I’m not so far gone that I’m oblivious or ungrateful. And I’m not so far gone that I won’t get up when the alarm goes off and continue. I’ll continue to pray, because the anger is the depression speaking and I need to know
what it’s going on and on about. I know this — it’s not the kids, it’s not the so called problems, it’s not my hubby (for sure). It’s not a friend sick with cancer, or a child with mental illness, or an aging mother, or an elderly neighbor being committed to a home, or the sexist church.
This is about me. I’m not gonna lie, depression has come knocking. Now I have to listen.
Melody
Thanks, Jamie the Very Worst Missionary, for this.
Logic & Imagination 
Really enjoyed reading where you’re at right now…
LikeLike
thank you, it is a tricky thing to be honest. tell the story. embrace pain. be willing to accept and fight it at the same time.
LikeLike
Please take care of your yourself and your family as best as you can. I know that it is not easy feeling the things you feel and struggling with depression. But take solace in how far you have come and how you have managed to cope. Your family needs you just as much you need them. May God give you the strength to carry on.
LikeLike
Anthony, I am taking care and thank you for this concern. I have learned over the years some wise things to do when I feel myself slipping, and a huge (much more than most people realize) is movement; for exercise cures a world of pain. There is something powerful about it as much or more so than medication. Melody
LikeLike
Wow, I read this a few days ago and it is so raw and real that I told myself I needed to circle back a few days later. And here I am reading the post again and having the same thoughts about its honesty. You obviously aren’t posting here to be analyzed but I’ll just say when you look at what is going on in your life (see your summary paragraph beginning “what it’s going on and on about”) and some of your past history that you wrote about in at least one other post that I read, and you throw in any chemical issues involved with depression, you’ve got a pretty good prescription for feeling really, really bad. So, I’ll say I’ll pray for you in your struggles and hope it helps. I’ll pray too that the idea of “Failure” abates (you yourself called those the Evil voices saying that, and I’d throw in the word Wrong voices too–no one does all that you list that you do and is objectively a failure–how you feel about it is something else I’ll admit but feeling it doesn’t make it true). My wife and I have four children too (mine are all grown) and what you describe about some of your children is tough and that hurts too. But the cliche you’re not alone is also true and your readers really appreciate, and learn, and benefit by what you’ve written (this one has). Thank you for your openness and how you write about the things that you do.
LikeLike
bob, that was kind. i am not sure, at this point, why i write so honestly. regretting it? yes and wondering at my silly concept of helping others by my being honest. a cliche it seems, also. wondering about my own lack of boundaries in telling the truth.
yes, i’m a recipe for disaster and regret. i cycle down into low, dark, hellish places, the good news i suppose is i am alive, and i’m not using (in my case drinking) and i have many many people who care.
thanks for writing me.
LikeLike
I know this is no cure all, and that you’re talking emotions and thoughts that are very deep, but I’m reading a book that might give you some insight on some of what you deal with–at least the part of an introvert in an extroverted world. It’s “Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking”, by Susan Cain (hardback). I’ve found it a revelation. I do think what you write is important–important for you to say it and for others to hear it and relate to it. And I think that it’s really important to remember (as you said you do; that’s good), that in the midst of all you handle, there are “many many” people who care.
LikeLike
thank you bob. i will look for that book. i definitely experience the sense that i see and feel the world in an unusually deep, painful way. my spiritual director affirmed that in me, saying that i need to be less hard on myself and listen for themes in what i hear. it’s a long road to learn this skill.
LikeLike
I sent a response but I’m not sure it went through so I’ll say again that, based on what you say, I’d highly recommend that book by Susan Cain. She has a section on the “highly sensitive/empathetic” person that is really good and she also discusses the introvert in the church with a focus on Adam McHugh, who wrote a book on that subject (I haven’t read his book but I’ve heard good things about it). Your spiritual director has a lot of wisdom. And you’re right, Rome wasn’t built in a day. But good luck in moving toward it.
LikeLike
I did see your original comment, but I’m not seeing it now. Now sure why.
LikeLike