Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Dancing with December


O December

You never evade me.

My heart betrays me.

It’s a painful price to even look at you.

8 years passed.

In my head, she dies again…. Every time.

All treasonous senses so religiously remind me.

Time’s repetitious dance is my enemy.

If I could blot you out, I would.

Useless to pray you away.

My old love for you remembers better days.

Days filled with light passed, now clouded by darkness.

Days with joy and excitement passed, now knocks dread.

Warm family closeness wrestles isolation.

Why must I take your hand as you escort me through memories I wish I could forget?

Your swift movements lure me in, arms remain warm as the silent snow falls.

I feel your attempts to cover my eyes from the sight of her empty face, but it’s no use.

I hear your song, “Because of the One we celebrate this season, we have Hope…

It’s not that I don’t take solace in those words. I do.

It’s just the measure of my heartache is that great.

And you know this. Every year you know this.

You are one of the precious few who know me this well.

So this ornament, made with my own careful hands, will whisper in my ear

"Just breathe." 






(In memory of Sarah Layne Wing 9/7/06 - 12/17/06)


Monday, December 15, 2014

Awake: Surviving Depression


It's been 3 months since I've written anything. There's good reason to my hesitancy in publishing anything within those months. I've been unwell. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months of laying on the couch, in so much pain and weakness, watching my children fall into routine of taking more responsibilities because I was unable. Headaches and fatigue ruled my life and my mind became captive to it. My thoughts had no clarity, in fact the only thing that I could make out were words that said, "You are a burden." Those words drove me to desire death, so that my loved ones could go on with someone else, someone new, someone able. I never attempted suicide, but dreamed that God would just take me somehow. I had already been in the thick of the headaches, and the Spirit of God gave me strength and an oasis to spend the time I did with my Uncle Bud before and during his death. I found myself jealous of my uncle's passing, wishing it had been me. Any logic that was left in me said, "GO TO THE DOCTOR!!"

 I gave up. I surrendered. I tried all my natural home remedies. Any time I brought God up in it all, I condemned myself or felt God being passive to my suffering. I was in a physical, mental, and spiritual fog. I had successfully isolated myself away from most of my family and friends (because I "was a burden" remember?) My husband, (who is the best husband in the world, by the way) would come home from his stressful job to all the housework at home, five little kids yearning for his attention, needing his referee-ing. Not knowing what to say to me, he just held me. Whenever I asked, he held me. I would cry guilty tears of not getting anything done around the house. He'd coach me saying, "This too shall pass" but those words were muffled to my ears. I was stuck in "the now." I was overwhelmed with the endless torment my body had apparently betrayed me with, waiting to die, wanting to die. My husband took me to my first appointment.

I remember sitting there in disbelief that it had gotten this bad. My health. My depression. They were spiraling together, sinking me down and tying me to the bottom. My bonds were just too tight. Out of boredom of waiting in the doctor's office, I surfed through my email and found an article titled, "You Are Not Alone." I took a deep breath.

The doctor found my thyroid issues, and we started the long trek of balancing that out. Then continued on more meds for my depression. I had started this unique therapy with my Uncle Ed (who is a gifted counselor) called "EMDR Therapy" and it has greatly improved my mental clarity. Two mentors, who are some of my best friends, never left me in the dark alone. They walked with me, listening to my anger and desperation, never judging, turning my face to the hope of tomorrow. I finally started feeling better and then sprained my ankle, making me bedridden once again. Another bond, another weight. I felt so defeated. I asked God why He wanted me this way? Why He isn't protecting me or healing me to be able to live the way He says He wants us to? But I continued to take my meds, do the therapy, allow my body to heal, talk to my mentors, and ask my husband to hold me.

I still have my bad days of headaches, but each week seems to get a little better. As the bonds fade, my mind becomes clearer. This is not some miraculously quick healing for me, but the miracle here is what I have become even more aware of during this process. I found my Beloved Lord again. Not as this passive God who just stood and watched me writhe in pain, nor as a condemning God for not being the wife/mom/friend that I needed to be. He was in the doctor who sat and heard my ailments and knew what would help me. He was in my Uncle who so gracefully counseled me in the safety of his love for me, with a therapy he knew would help me. He was in my mentor and friend that sat across from me til midnight every Tuesday night at that restaurant, relating to my struggles, reminding me that life is hard, but we can do life together and we'll get through this. And He was in another mentor that corresponded words of wisdom and understanding, challenging me to grow and to see beyond myself. And my favorite, was when He held me through the arms of my husband, "this too shall pass" "this is only a season" "I know you are hurting. I know. And I love you."  I had found myself again too. My notorious God-given "strong-will" that has gotten me, truly, this far in life and then... I didn't want to die anymore. (I mean, don't get me wrong, heaven is going to be awesome, but...) I wasn't so ready to leave right now.

I want to live. I see God everywhere.

In this slow healing, I am learning patience, grace, new appreciations, and new perspectives.

I finally made it to church this sunday, after months of being absent, and my pastor put it perfectly, teaching us (from the example of the Hebrews being freed and wandering the wilderness for so long) that you can be taken out of slavery, but it is through the wilderness, the slavery can be taken out of you.

God has, indeed, freed me from my bonds through Jesus Christ, but it was the bonds that were in me that I was feeling still. This world is the wilderness, for which I will learn how to live in this freedom from my bonds.

And every morning, I wake up, making it a point to say, "I am fine."