My Story of Depression :: You Are Not AloneTuesday, February 21, 2017
I haven’t blogged in a while. There has been plenty that I’ve wanted to write. My head is bursting with ideas and words and stories…
But I have been very depressed.
It comes in waves.
Well, now, not exactly waves. “Coming in waves” makes it sound like I barely have time to stand up before another wave hits me and knocks me off my feet when it truly is more like a cycle. Maybe it/s like a moon cycle? But even that is too frequent. I would wager that my depression hits hard twice a year. Sometimes more frequently depending on what is happening in my life. I’m sure there are times that it rolls in like ripples after a giant boulder has fallen in a lake, but in the grand scheme of things, the deep, dark, terrible blues come fewer and farther between.
Which is good, I suppose.
However, when I fall into the big pit, it is really tough to get out.
This week, I smoked two cigarettes; it just felt like the thing to do. After the world stopped spinning underneath my feet, I tasted like an ashtray and my hair smelled bad.
That didn’t work (well, I mean, it sorta did, but it's not healthy).
Some folks might recommend turning to God for a respite from the darkness. That just aggravates me. I didn’t turn away from God to begin with.
Turn on worship music. That’s what I’ve seen some people comment to other friends suffering.
Not even a little.
Turning on worship music at any point these days makes my skin hurt. When you break up with the church, any reminders of the church kinda feel like what it must be like when a marriage dissolves and you get a whiff of a man wearing a cologne like your ex-husband wore (I really don’t know because I’ve not divorced or suffered through a breakup). But in either case, I’m not turning on worship music.
And that brings us to another point:
I know that my granny is probably praying that I return to church. I’m sure there are some well-meaning people out there that would try to gently tell me that I am suffering this depression because I’ve walked away….
That’s not the answer, either.
Deep down, I know what the answer is, but I’m not about to tell you in a blog post. I’ve just shared enough of my storm-clouded-feelings so that you know I’m depressed—so you know that you’re not alone.
Let’s be honest, we all fall into the hole from time-to-time. Sometimes, you might feel like it comes in waves, battering you. You might feel as if you barely spit out the sea water and wipe the salt from your eyes before another wave hits you hard. Maybe you feel caught in an undertow—a fierce, urderous, violent grasp that you might not recover from? Maybe it feels like this might kill you?
You’re not alone.
Dear heart, you are not alone.
That’s what’s important, right? Knowing that we aren’t the only ones feeling this way; that there is someone that will sit beside us and smoke a cigarette with us and gently touch our hand (because if you’re like me, you don’t want touched too much when you’re in the pit)? They’ll make you a drink and find a way to make you laugh for a little while. They won’t give up on you when the sun comes out the next day and the darkness is still there, maybe even thicker this time around. They will keep walking with you, standing with you, loving you no matter what…
And if you don’t have that, let me know. Don’t sit in the pit alone. Don’t fight the darkness alone. We all need to know we are not alone….
Even when the darkness tells us we really want to be alone.