It's been rather gray lately. A close friend noted the correlation between my silence here and my emotional.......well-being.
It's called depression.
I realize that, like, every American is "diagnosed" with it and over "medicated." And "christians" shouldn't be "depressed" or see "professional counselors." My life is too small--too Right This Very Minute to work on that one. I can only handle so much. And when I'm in the gray, all I can do is let it wash over me until it leaves me the heck alone. That is a very hard thing to do.
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say I'm not the only woman in the world who likes to feel like she's in control. I realized this most painfully when we lost our fourth baby in early pregnancy. As soon as the gushing and contracting erased every hope I'd held on to for twelve motionless, sleepless hours, I felt totally and completely responsible. I was guilty.
It was my fault.
Whether it was the deli meat or the glass of wine or moving heavy boxes, it was my fault that our baby wouldn't be born.
The first thing my midwife spoke into me as I sobbed over the phone was, "This is not your fault. You didn't do anything to cause this, and you couldn't have stopped it." I hadn't spoken a single word to her about my guilt. She just knew it's how we women work.
A few weeks or months later I finally starting writing out the unspeakables. That's when the Spirit so graciously pointed out:
"It's not actually your fault. You have to believe it is, because you want to believe you can control even this."
Protective control, not manipulative. Can I keep my man happy? Can I keep my kids safe? Can I make my friends like me? That kind of control. When things are good, I am ALL too glad to silently take credit for it. "I am managing all this happiness for everyone, because I love them all so much." But if I am going to take credit for the good, I must then take credit for the bad. Enter in guilt. And if my reasoning is that good things come from my abounding love and dedication, then what the heck am I to think of my Father when the bad comes to me?
I couldn't talk to him for a while after this had all happened. I was afraid of what I might feel. I was afraid of what I might say--that I might curse, out loud, the Lord of Hosts.
When I finally could......I sat on the floor, sobbing, and simply said, "I didn't want this!" And I immediately felt that what was grieving my heart was grieving his.
In a much more annoying than painful way, that's how I feel about depression: I don't want this; I don't have time for this. No one in my life has time for me to be all sad and depressed and.....depressing. There's the control thing again. I want to believe I can control the state of happiness in those I love, so my gloom and doom is the worst thing I could ever do to them. It's a bunch of crap. I realize that. But it's hard to remember when you're in the gray. It's hard to remember anything productive then.
Inch by inch, I feel like the gray cloud is passing. For the first time in weeks I've had one solid day of Okay. I want to write down some things I've learned this time around. But it's only been a day. I need to get the ball rolling here, and then let it ruminate....
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