I’m having such a hard time right now.
It’s no secret that I fell off the blogging world. The truth is that I feel completely voiceless. This wasn’t meant to be a place to vent, and I have run out of things to say.
Confession: I battle with depression and anxiety sometimes, and my present living arrangements doesn’t make it any easier.
I had book reviews to do (which are still good books) and updates to give (my youngest was also diagnosed with ADHD but with medication and prayer he finished the school year quite victoriously) and I was swimming, running, and biking my little heart off.
It started with news from Venezuela.
My family was struggling. And protesting. And sharing videos… My news feed was video after video of people being shot at, run over, and beat by militarized police. Somewhere between the tear gassing of an elementary school (and my 18 month old cousin in the vicinity) and the assasination of a Boy Scout trying to “do a good dead” at only 14 years of age, it felt like I got punched in the gut and all the air knocked out of me.
I was there. I was tear gassed. I have not been able to return since, and I never wanted to leave in the first place.
Maybe this is PTSD?
About 60 days later it’s still just as bad. Men have been stripped naked and beat for begging them in the name of God’s Word to stop. Old ladies have stood up to military Rhino Humvees and been tear gassed and arrested. Medical students doing Emergency responder work (clearly identified by a green cross on their helmets) have been run over dead. Instruments dashed from musicians between the ages of 14-18 simply for playing the national anthem…
I’m not even allowed to look at the images any more.
So with this hollowed out feeling in my soul, I tried to keep moving forward. Take care of my kids and finish the school year. I’m trying to get us into our own home. Everything I try falls apart in my hands.
No matter what I do I just can’t seem to convince the mortgage company to preapprove us for a home loan.
So while I wait on that I try to do other things too, to pass time. Except I’m in physical pain all day, getting steroid injections in my joints, upping my chemo meds to fight my immune system which seems to have altogether given up on me and has decided to feed on my joints until I crumble.
60 days of not being good enough no matter what I do. Of hoping for good news, and thinking maybe we finally get good news, only to hear that we don’t really deserve good news yet, we’re not good enough.
While going onto a year of living in someone else’s spare space. Making dinner after the family who actually belongs here makes dinner. Keeping my dogs and my kids out of the way. Cleaning up when I’d rather be resting so our hosts don’t complain. Apologetically putting our food, our stuff, and our lives in the spare corners – boxed up and stacked up and on hold until we get our own house.
God only knows when.
Having a near suicidal break down on the recliner downstairs and being reminded that someone in our family is somewhere or did something they aren’t supposed to and instead of giving myself the time to cry a few tears, catch my breath, and address it when I feel good and sane enough to (like I normally would), I have to spring to action and fix it RIGHT NOW. Never mind all the other fiery hoops I’ve jumped through TODAY to keep this boat afloat, RIGHT NOW there’s a problem and it can’t wait.
I’m pretty sure this is what depression looks like.
I still get dressed, put on a smile, and take the kids out. To parks or play dates. To church. I get asked 15 times a day “How are you doing?” And my answer is still “I’m alright”, because I’m not but I just don’t want to get into it right now.
And everyone tells me to just wait and trust in God’s timing. There must be some truth to that cliche but it sounds like nails on a chalkboard by now.
And what can I do while I wait? I have lost all desire for the things that made me happy to be alive. Writing and blogging seem hollow and insincere. Running and biking is painful. I don’t even enjoy music anymore. The sunshine doesn’t invite me the way it used to because it comes with the price of waking up early to keep the vehicle and I already do that on doctor days to manage chronic pain so I’m too exhausted to go out and play.
All I want is a nap.
So what’s the take away here?
Maybe that sometimes even Christians who read their Bibles and pray every day have really bad seasons. Maybe that it would be fantastic if mental health issues didn’t carry such a stigma in the faith community. Maybe that it would be so much easier if adults could get help with mental health services quickly and effectively.
But definitely that if you are feeling the same way, you are not alone. And it’s not wrong to ask for help. And please, I’m begging you not to give up because I’m not giving up.