So here I am. I don't really want to talk about this. But I know I need to for me. And I hope it's encouraging for some of you.
B.daddy and I have weathered many rolling tides of depression. Some long, some short; some expected, some not; some severe, some just blah. The thing that always gets me is the failure to recognize a wave before it's almost passed. It's hard to remember to strap on my emotional helicopter and look at the situation from 30,000 feet. Instead I hull up inside my head thinking terrible things about myself and worrying that everyone else is going to figure out what a loser I am.
I freak out, which only makes the situation worse.
In my experience, if I'm going to get my head above water I have to let go. Stop freaking out and struggling and let the wave wash over me. Amazingly, when I do that it actually washes over me and moves on. When I'm not struggling with the undercurrent, I have the energy and space to heal. My healing looks a lot like rest. Like relaxing--just not in the spa sort of way. Rather like breathing deep and relaxing muscles that ache from exertion. And there are several things I do as part of my healing regime.
The first thing I do is talk about it.
Before, during, and after any words leave my lips, I utter a lot of inaudible God Help Me's. Any form of articulate prayer is usually impossible. But the Spirit intercedes when words fail. My spirit groans and yet I am comforted, because I believe he has mercy on me. The first person I talk to is my husband. He needs to know, and I need him to know when I'm under water. He is a compassionate and encouraging man, so knowing that he knows brings me immediate relief. Even though it may still take a while to get through it, I know I can say a few simple words and he will shower me with patience and prayer.
If I feel the need, I'll have a chat with my counselor. She has gotten to know me very well, and can often remind me of the truths that bring on healing. Insecurity takes center stage when I'm depressed. And, for whatever reason, insecurity can make it hard for me to believe positive words spoken by my husband or friends. Perhaps I think they just feel sorry for me or want to keep me from hurting. But my counselor has no personal agenda. Heck, supply and demand says it's better for her if I do feel bad. I know it sounds twisted, but, like I said before, it is very hard to think straight in the midst of depression. The counselor-patient relationship can be a clear, objective space to just get right to work, no strings attached.
I keep in touch with my midwife during pregnancy and postpartum. She has been one of my brightest cheerleaders since before Gizmo was born. She can help me figure out if a particular wave is related to baby-making hormones and stresses. And she gives lots of really good hugs. And she thinks I'm awesome but SHE is awesome, so that makes me feel awesome.
Then there are the kids. It breaks my heart when a wave has lasted so long or gotten so severe that the kids actually notice it. If I can I try manage it without their knowledge. Not for shame, but to avoid unnecessary emotional stress in their little hearts. I do not pretend with them that Mommy always feels great, and so should they. We accept all our emotions as they come and deal with them together. But how Mommy feels can have a very profound effect on a child. They don't need to know every detail of my mental angst. However, it's not always avoidable. When it's not we sit down and have a casual conversation about Mommy feeling really cruddy. I keep my words simple and as neutral as possible. I tell them that I may need extra time-outs during the day. I also tell them that they can speak up for themselves. If I'm not acting right, they have my full permission to tell me it hurts their feelings. There is a fine line here. I do not give them the responsibility of keeping me in line or comforting me. I aim to empower them to speak out against hurtful behavior.
Finally I try to be open and honest with my friends. Depending on the growth stage of the friendship this can be very difficult. Trust is hard for a lot of us, and it takes a long time for eyes-closed-fearless-falling-into-your-arms-trust to be established within a friendship. Nonetheless, I try to reach out and say, Hey, heads up. I feel like crap. Sometimes an encouraging conversation will follow, sometimes I am assured my friend is praying for me. But my favorite thing that happens: trust builds. The friend I tell looks utterly relieved that someone is being honest with them about something so dark, and we're both able to talk about our dark struggles. These conversations are fleeting, but they are worth every trepidatious step.
