This post is very serious, so I felt the need to include a cutie-wudie puppy to lighten the mood.
I haven’t been writing. I’ve been in a weird place lately, and it has shown by the absence of posts.
I don’t think anyone would be shocked to hear, I am depressed.
I know, right? Some crazy thing about my baby having a deadly disease.
Well, I am going to therapy, I am on antidepressants, and I assure you I am doing okay. Not everyday is easy but not everyday is horrible. Life generally is kind of hard right now, but we are still laughing and still trying to have some fun.
I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to address it on this blog.
I want this blog to be a place of honesty. Where dumb stereotypes and misconceptions are smashed. Where people can go and hear someone being completely truthful, and maybe relate a little.
But I didn’t want pity. I honestly didn’t want to face stereotypes or even people’s worry.
But last week, I resolved myself to write this post. I’ve been thinking a lot about depression lately, and not just my own.
There is this look that encompass the feelings of depression for me. I first recognized it when I was watching the 2002 movie, The Hours. There is this scene with Julianne Moore, where they are just introducing her character, Laura Brown. Brown is a housewife in 1951, who is pregnant and deeply depressed. There is a scene where she gets out of bed and joins her son at the table where she is eating breakfast. Moore plays this beautifully. As she sits…I see it. That look.
It’s a look of incredible pain hidden by a mask of happy. It’s the look of trying to act normal for everyone else, when all you want to do is climb into bed or sit in a ball and cry. It’s where your whole body hurts, just from being awake, and it’s a weird mix of psychological and actual pain. It’s that look of you have to hold it all together, or else… I’ve seen that look on other woman before. I’ve felt that look on me.
Not everyone who is depressed has the look. Nor, is it a constant tell. But sometimes I can see it.
In the last week, two friends of mine came out about their struggles to depression to me. One came out in a request for prayer and accountability, and another blogged about her battle.
And, of course, I had my reality check that I wanted to ditch the anxiety class my therapist signed me up for, thinking “eh, I don’t need it” then I went and had a panic attack a half hour before (that lasted through the class) (because I am just that cool and ironic).
So needless to say, it’s been on my mind.
I am beyond proud of my friends. Like insanely proud. It’s not easy battling depression and anxiety, but also it’s not easy talking publicly about it. It blows my mind the stereotypes and judgmentalism that still surrounds it. It’s just weird to me.
But then again, it’s been something I’ve dealt with off and on throughout my life. It’s nothing new. Not the panic attack part. That’s a whole new *fun* thing for me these days. But depression? Yes.
I’ve always battled it with therapy, and once before, antidepressants.
I have to say I love therapy. I know some Christians have issues with it, or feel like you have to only see a Christian therapist, but every one I have had has respected my religion, my views on God, and darn it, if God didn’t work through them.
Antidepressants. For you nay sayers, let me say: They are not happy pills. They are not personality-changing drugs (if done properly). They just make you feel like you have a ground beneath you so you can deal with your emotions. Another way of saying it, I feel like they make my brain a little more clear so I can deal with my emotions. Let me reiterate: They don’t hide or fix your emotional turmoil, they just make it a little easier to deal. I definitely plan to get more into this later. It’s shocking how much people feel they need to hide that they take them, and the looks alone that I have gotten by saying that I am on them makes me feel the need to smash the stereotypes and give people a talkin’ to.
So back to where I started…
The last couple of weeks have been a little rougher for me. Last week my head was a little too cluttered to make any sense. I wrote a couple of posts, but knowing how I was in an emotional place, I decided to wait on publishing. Let clearer heads prevail and all that. (Posting on Facebook or the blog during a mood swing is essentially like my version of drunk texting- I always regret it.)
Today I woke up with what felt like a punch to my gut. For some reason the whole “my son has cancer” thing seemed like new news. I also have a cold so being tired and not feeling well don’t help. But you know what? Tomorrow may be better. It may not. But it really could be. So I push forward, talk to friends or my husband, pray, double check when my next therapy appointment is, and then maybe eat some chocolate. None of that takes it away. But it helps me move forward, because tomorrow could be better.