Another installment of the beginning of this story of mine...
November 27, 2012
I am so, so, tired. I want to shut down, crawl under my bed with a blanket, a pillow, and the dust bunnies (and I am not joking--I wish I were); and not talk to anybody until I feel like coming out. Which may be sometime in the next week, or sometime in the next month. But I can’t. I can’t be sick. Life goes on, kids need to be cared for, husbands need dinners and suppers and clean clothes (another exhausting job--I had no idea doing the wash took so much thought).
A few days later...
Another episode past and gone for the time being. Gradually, over the last few days, I have “woken up” and been more able to handle life. I got my house cleaned, the clothes washed. I have cut a few corners here and there, but the important things are done. I am able to listen to little voices chatter again, and even give them intelligent answers to questions, although I am not usually the one to initiate the conversation.
I feel that this is my burden; I don’t want to bother anyone else with it. Besides, most people don’t understand and just think I am being difficult because I am selfish. Or I have also been told that I am just a “negative person.” If the person who said that only knew how hard I have to fight, these days, to come across with some semblance of normal.
This is not the first time I have fought this monster of depression, although it is definitely the worst battle I have had so far. Often I didn’t realize that I was depressed till I was well into it--and even then sometimes not. I tended to blame other people when I was down, not realizing it was the way I was looking at things. But even if I had known, it may not have made a difference--until recently, I couldn’t put all this into words that would be understandable to someone who hasn’t been there. How could they know, if no one can tell them?
The guilt over not being able to keep life under control when an episode hits is sometimes overwhelming too--I should be strong enough to handle this; to not give in to pain, fear, and weakness. Or sometimes I think that if I only keep going, it would all go away--it’s my fault I am feeling so bad. I should just put one foot in front of the other. Then it would be better. I try. But I’m not sure which direction to head, in the worst of times. Then, I go hour by hour, or sometimes minute by minute, leaning so hard on the Lord to get me through the day that I’m pretty sure He is just dragging me along sometimes. I often can’t even pray, or read my Bible. In the middle of the most painful times, I am too tired or hurting too badly to ask God why this must be. And I don’t think I will ever have a complete answer. But in the middle of the worst, I have come to know Jesus as my very best Friend. I can’t explain it. I just know with a firm assurance that, in spite of how I feel, He is there and will never leave me.
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