It has taken three days, but today I realized that I am depressed. I have a steady sadness and ache somewhere inside. It radiates mostly through my chest. It wasn’t until I looked at all the dirty dishes on my counter that I realized it. The glasses with leftover coke and melted ice looked hard and pointless. I wanted to reach out, pick them up, and let them slip, falling to the ground to shatter. Maybe then something would make sense.
Back when I was new at accepting that I have depression it would take me much longer to realize that it had crept in. It was like passing out. A darkness that started at the corners and slowly, slowly, closes in until all was black. Everything would remain blind and seemingly hopeless and joyless. Much slower than the dark the light would ease back in, also starting from the outer edges.
I catch it early now; like nausea and a watery mouth foretelling vomit. I pull my husband aside and tell him. I know he is not a mind reader, and cannot always tell if I am objectively emotional or battling illness. So, I tell him and he treats me with care and gentleness. I also tell him when it is not depression and accept his challenging, advising, and pushing me through my various emotions.
But not now. Pushing me during depression could shatter my fragile outer composure, dragging me from my internal focus at war with dysfunctional chemicals in my head.
It is good to accept what my thorn is. It is good to fight and identify patterns, to talk about it and mature within my illness. Still, at times it makes marriage, children, friendships, and life so hard. If my illness was physical at this stage we would be preparing to head to the hospital for support, tests, an Iv, drugs. But life keeps going on needing me. I just need to identify what these things look like when the misunderstood and misjudged illness is in ones brain.
Only a foolish diabetic would stop taking his insulin. Doing so, as with many other illnesses, can lead to death. So, I fight my disease, and know that it does not define who I am. Someday, I will be a restored oak. Strong, beautiful, with a spirit of gladness.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. Isaiah 61:1-3
