Depression: I stopped making my bed...

I stopped making my bed...



Depression.

An old friend. Sometimes she visits when I expect her to. A situation may call for her and she’ll be there, faithfully by my side. And I’m okay that.

Then there’s the times when I’m feeling okay for the most part. Everything is as well as to be expected. I’m not having a horrible day, but then I can’t quite peg why it’s not necessarily a good day either. I call it a funk. But it’s her. She’s there. Depression.

I can’t answer why. She’s just there. Doesn’t even knock to come in. She just walks through the door. Most times, I don’t even hear her come in. She’s pretty sly.

But when she does come, she’s the only company I can handle. There’s the lucky lucky few that can dwell in my bubble when she’s with me. The words that go through my mind when she’s around are:

Small. Burden. Unworthy. Unloved. Despair. Alone. Out of Control. Ghost. Unable. Cold. Numb. Self-directed anger. Anxiety. Conspiracies. Forgotten. 

The other night I went to bed fully aware I was depressed. Then in my despair, I noticed my blankets. I then realized it had been so many days since I stopped making my bed. It snuck up on me. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal. For the most part it IS truly a small thing. But what it translated to me was that little red flag that she was stepping over that threshold from my mind (something I can't control) to my heart (something I'm able to control better). A while ago, I started making my bed. It became a goal, that thing in the morning I could do. No matter my pain or fatigue, I could make my bed. It gave me that little piece of my humanity back; to get me through the day. So when I went back to bed completely drained and in pain, fatigued or feeling horrible and defeated (no matter the time of day), my bed was still made. I had done that with my own hands. “Kailan was here,” it whispers to me. And it comforts me.

So when I realized my bed had been neglected, I resolved to make sure that I make my bed in the morning. And I did. I took that piece back.

It doesn’t make the depression go away. She’s much too stubborn, I can't stop her from coming. But she understands she is not wanted. 

And that’s where I want her.

"I have no promise of tomorrow."

Matthew 6:34  "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Proverbs 27:1 "Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring."

"I have no promise of tomorrow."

I say that all the time these days. Usually when I say it, I mean: "I'm feeling ok right now, and I may wake up tomorrow feeling debilitated. So if we are going to do this, we need to do it today." 

Of course this mentality only gets me so far when I must force myself to pace because I can only go so far and use so much energy. But God knows I try to do many things I shouldn't. I pay for it in the end, but I pay for it regardless. I boom and bust (good days and bad days) no matter my tactics for trying to ease off the extremes. Trying to create a balance that's more like the Lady Bug kiddie roller coaster, and UN-like the Dragon. But I'm kinda stuck on that Dragon right now. 

Those verses at the top have been a natural presence that drives my decisions about my life these days. I used to not have to think about these verses. I knew of them, and always thought they were nice verses, but now? Now, whether or not I'm going to embrace this moment of health with my children and husband or friends and family, or go out and get [this] done hangs on the balance of this very rationale. "I have no promise of tomorrow." "I don't know what tomorrow is going to be like."

It's amazing how different I see things; now that I'm ill. I watched a documentary that's on Netflix called Beautiful Broken Mind.  Lotje Sodderland, talking about her experience after having a stroke, said that she now has all this pain and frustration with having to relearn certain things she could do easily before, but then she explains that she experiences a whole other side to the world that she couldn't even hardly explain how beautiful it was. 

When I was listening to her speak about it, even though our stories are very different, I could relate to what she was explaining. 

That paradox. 

It sucks that I'm in pain most of the time. It sucks that so many of my days are spent on the couch or in bed because I can't do anything else. The quantity of mommy time and wife/husband time is diminished. I have lost friends, even though they mean well, I'm just a hard friend to have around right now. It sucks that I don't have any promise of tomorrow. 

But...

It's beautiful that I am forced to live in today. Most of the time, I can't even see past today because I can't process it. And that's ok with me. I'm sure it drives everyone around me crazy (Ha). And when I am "here" and have my good days, they are my GREAT days with my kids and husband (who get the best of me) and friends and family. I feel a high from being well enough to do things like walk through a store or do some housework or get behind the wheel of our minivan!! (that's a rare moment for sure!)

It's a very euphoric feeling. Feeling human. But enjoying being human

IN THIS DAY. 

I wish I could explain it better, 

but I can't.