Last Saturday was a rare and much-needed breath of air.
I had the energy to leave the house and run errands with Doug. We got groceries, went to the bank, and stopped by the bookstore. We listened to silly music in the car. Afterwards, we went to lunch and discussed everything from office drama to our favorite episode of Rick and Morty. I even worked on the blog, writing an emotionally exhausting post about how depression has impacted my faith.
Even with the perfectly lazy start, the productive day both with the adulting and the writing projects, a day I considered an all-around win-win, I was completely spent. It took 100% of my energy to have a good day. No wonder everything shy of a good day feels like getting hit by a bus.
On good days, I convince myself that I’m fine. I must not really have depression. I get glimpses of the old me, the girl who enjoyed laughing (not just sarcastically), the wife who flirted and joked with her husband, the friend who loved to catch up over a cup of coffee. I doubt my previous state of mind and dismiss any negative feelings as a fluke.
By the time I wake up the next day I can already feel the solid ground turning to water beneath my feet. I am pulled under – body, mind, and soul, into the darkness.
On these days, I know something is wrong with me. When I finally pin down one of the hundreds of racing thoughts in my mind, I recoil in horror. I am left with a choice – dive deeper into the darkness to process these thoughts and emotions in a healthy way, holding each one up to objective truths that I know and seeing how they measure up, OR build up the walls a little higher, shove the scary thoughts down a little further, and become numb.
Numbness sounds like a welcome state of mind. It’s certainly the easier choice. But, like most things in life, the easy way out is only “easy” in the moment. Numbness quickly gives way to worthlessness. “I can’t feel anything, I can’t do anything, I’m not worth anything.” Once the thought of worthlessness is planted it is nearly impossible to uproot. No amount of logic, kind words from friends, Bible verses, or evidence to the contrary can convince me otherwise.
Not that I would admit what I’m actually feeling; that’s far too scary. When people hear the words, “I’m worthless” they go into panic mode and scrounge around for platitudes and praise.
Again, I am faced with a choice. Do I sit back and listen to the voice that constantly asks, “What’s the point of this all anyway? Wouldn’t it just be easier to not be here anymore?” Or, do I somehow wait patiently for the Lord; for when He will hear my cry. “He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God.” (Psalm 40:1-3)
I know, I know. Praising God is just about the furthest thing from my mind right now. And maybe that’s part of the problem. Yes, I have depression. Yes, I have years of unresolved trauma. But I also have a choice.
Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength. – Habakkuk 3:17-19
Or, put another way, “Though the depression should not subside, nor the anxiety be quelled, the medications fail, and the therapy yield no results, the friends be cut off in isolation and there be no good days in the future, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord is my strength.” (Is it heretical to rephrase a Bible verse? I think the spirit of the message remains true… *waiting for lightning to strike me down*).
I don’t need more good days; I need more of God.