Apology

Part of my depression is the overpowering fear and thus belief, that my existence in this world is a hindrance. a down right nuisance to everyone. I cannot do things "right" nor can I do things consistently...so I should just give up trying. 
Giving up on living doesn't fall under that mind-set. I don't want to die, but my mind/brain can at times make it really hard to live. 

A protective dam or wall in my brain (consisting of good drugs, rest and God given hope) hold my worst symptoms at bay and keep the depression from consuming me. I can function well thanks to that wall. However at times it weakens (because of hormones, stress, grief)...and waves of self loathing, paranoia and anxiety flood in and shut me down. The feelings of failure and worthlessness are so strong I can hardly look at myself in the mirror. The thought of being with people, even loving and gentle people freaks me out. I don't want to be a hindrance...an imperfect, difficult to understand annoyance in their lives.
So I hide.
I sleep.
I seek out some peace.
Until my strength returns.

At times hiding or staying home to rest isn't optional, so I do my best to avoid..... I leave events early to avoid failure, or to avoid disappointing people.
Avoidance makes life safer. 

Sometimes.
But it can also make things worse

I am a perfectionist.
A depressed perfectionist.
Nice combination.
Saying "I'm sorry" is what I do best.

Avoiding is safe but doesn't keep me from failure entirely.

I'm sorry mom that I missed mothers day...that I can find drives to visit you exhausting and that I need reminders to call.
I'm sorry friend that I don't visit regularly and that I am hard to understand. 
I'm sorry that you've had to cut yourself off from me. I understand, although it makes me sad.
I'm sorry husband that you go to church without me. I'm sorry that I don't dress up or put on lipstick in honour of your homecoming from work.
I'm sorry brother that I don't send you pictures of your niece/nephew. I'm sorry that sometimes even your phone calls go unanswered.
I'm sorry children that you live with a mom like me. A mother who crys a lot and sleeps a lot. I'm sorry you have to so often be quiet because I have a headache. I'm sorry you sometimes have to eat  junk food because I'm too tired to grocery shop or overwhelmed to properly plan meals.

*Thank you to those who love me despite it all.

*Psalm 32:7

Solace

I'm in a space these days that is not pretty to anyone looking in. My face and body appear as an impenetrable bubble repelling even the softest expressions of comfort and the sweetest gestures of compassion.
I know the little ones study me and can't help feeling hurt and betrayed.

"How can I help you?" I read. Its a text from my mom. I love that she asks. "Just be yourself", I text back. Which means if you read between the lines...don't avoid me because you don't know what to say, don't judge me, don't give up on me, see my beauty with eyes brimming with grace.

I am grateful in this bubble. A cup overflowing with gratitude helps the anger, the pity, the fear go down. In the most delightful way. (Cue the twittering fake bird on the window sill). but as it goes down, and sinks in, it also threatens to destroy.

-marriages typically don't survive this
...the PDD, the therapies, the doctors, the pressure.
-we need to hire private therapy again -so many things are improving
-so many things are not
-somedays the patience and consistency of a patron saint are required.
-some days it all seems too much.

Breaking (it) down

I slept most of today...which has been good. I am learning to accept that my body requires tremendous amounts of rest. I always need a day to recover after a busy stretch...otherwise I break down (hide in my bed-I love my bed). The downside to this requirement is the overwhelming feeling at the END of my slumber, when the reality of completing unfinished TaSKS...and the perpetual, never ending to-do list...we all must face, hits me.

*GAK* (thats the sound my brain makes trying to sort it all out...).

There is a 15 minute window upon rising, where my mind decides whether it will crumple and become paralyzed (i.e. head back until I pick up the kids from school), OR become functional, and MOVE...by simply doing something small (putting in my contacts, pulling on jeans, making coffee). Even if my mind is not ready for the day, my body is helping it get there.

Today during the foggy 15 min. window, I shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed my pretty post it paper (dollar store beauty). With just enough determination and energy I jotted down some goals to complete in the rest of the day. Hopefully. Maybe.

Ok. I may not get them all done but I know I'm moving in the right direction.
And its only 2pm! 

ironic

I had a job once where I facilitated and taught inservices to nursing home staff.
I had a job once where I organized a volunteer program.
I had a job once where my opinion was requested by specialists.
I had a job once where my name and credentials where written on an office door.
I had a job once where I carried files in a leather bag for manager-meetings across the city.
I had a job once where I fired, hired and lead a group of my own staff.

I was financially set.
I was very proud of my work.
I worked with amazing people.
However,
I did not find happiness in achieving my professional goals.
that was a great surprise to me.

The positions I was granted after graduation were never mine to keep.
University doesn't teach you how to balance your personal life with your professional life.

I couldn't handle the pressure of giving my attention and care intensely for the day, and then

going home to more pressure and neediness.
I discovered over the years that i couldn't handle the constant pressure of families to do more;
wanting me to "help Dad be more active", "teach auntie millie  to stop hitting", or to "get mother out of her room to socialize."
I couldn't handle the pressure of hiring staff and then being told I had chosen poorly by the Director...(more than once).
I couldn't handle the pressure of starting a volunteer program from the ground up.

I couldn't handle anything in the end.
I desperately wanted to handle it. I loved my jobs.
I really loved them.
But loving your job doesn't always suffice if you are emotionally exhausted.
or not tough enough. or depressed.

I now work at a job where instead of being paged, someone hollers my name from the till.
I now work at a job where my credentials are null and void, and the cards that I hand out are the gold crown variety that people pay for.
I now work at a job where i attend staff meetings to discuss up-selling easter chickens that lay eggs, as opposed to debriefing with doctors about the recent death of a long term resident.
I do not wear clothes to work that "command attention".
I do not have to worry about appearing prepared, professional or looking "successful",(other than wearing clothes that aren't stained).
I now work at a job where my only calls are to customers to tell them their Dickens Village ornament has arrived....


I am happier now at work than I have been for a very long time.
I love what I do.
I don't feel pressure.
I don't feel inadequate.
I don't feel judged.
I don't feel stressed.
I don't feel anxious before or after work.
I am happy.
I am at peace.
I am thankful.

to (NOT) do list

My doctor has informed me that the following projects are dangerous for my mental health and stability.  I must stay away from putting paper in blenders, rolling up iddy biddy pieces of magazines and assembling miniature fairy gardens.  Good thing he told me. I'd have started each one for sure.

~ making handmade paper.

~creating a potted miniature garden

~ painting wallpaper and stenciling walls

~recycling magazines into a garbage can

~making a ping-pong lamp shade

How many ping-pong balls are there? and would each one need to be painted?

trick-y question

there are days when I have to WILL myself to open my mouth to brush my teeth.
there are days when the bathrooms are dirty but the thought of cleaning them doesn't even occur to me.
there are days when the thought of stripping down to nothing and having a shower seems impossible.
there are days when driving to the school at noon so my daughter has her own version of a "hot lunch"
overwhelms me.
there are days when our fridge is bare and we need food, but I have wait to make the shopping list until I feel "ready".
there are days when I change all the bedding and wait for some sort of applause.

there are days when I wonder how much is the depression, and how much is laziness?

yuck

i just have to say that i am tired of being tired.
i have absolutely no energy.
none.
yes, i could go for a walk (since its a beautiful day and all).
i could go downstairs and play "just dance" on the wii.
i could get off my butt and walk up and down the stairs 20 times.
i could do a lot of things.

but right now i am too tired to even consider those options.
that really makes me sad.
life is so short and here i sit,
feeling like everyone is doing well with the life they've been given
except me.

its just "one of those days".....
that i'm really sick of having.
and i sound like i'm begging for a pity party.
yuck.

i wonder what red bull would do for me?
it would probably make me aggressive.
i can just see myself fighting for a school parking space,
and punching out one of the moms.
that would liven things up for me.
tremendously.
my children would disown me...
but.... i would be burning calories. right?

a break

i write a lot about my depression...

its helped me sort things out, and feel part of a "community".

types of depression

i write openly about the painful times
primarily
to whittle away at the ugly stigma.

However, i want to be sure to share and write about the days that I feel..."Well".
to include the GOOD, with the bad and the ugly....

Yesterday was one of those days.

what was different?
why were my symptoms less evident?

common speculations of course would be...
~did i win a trip to Alaska?
nope.
~was i FINALLY featured on the cover of Country Women magazine?

CW cover girl

nope.

~did we receive news that our house would soon be finished?

nope.
~did i watch a marathon of Murder She wrote??
unfortunately ...no.
my day was better simply because I had energy, and felt like being productive!!

that's me.

that's it folks.
that's all it took
who wants to go to Alaska anyway?
i do.
were all my hormones and neurotransmitters aligned/firing/singing/laughing/working... to the best of "their abilities"?
i do not know.
did kent slip something into my chocolate milk the night previous??
i do not know. (probably)
?
WHATEVER the reason,
yesterday...
motivation replaced guilt and clear, focused thinking replaced fuzziness and confusion.
what a fantastic break.

i WANTED to clean out the kids rooms, the bathrooms and wash the floor.
did you catch that?
I felt that old surge of determination and excitement, knowing i'd rid the house of dirt and clutter.
I had the desire to tackle projects and house work.

That is huge my friends.
HUGE.

a piece of the "old, healthier me" showed up yesterday.
and that felt just wonderful.

where does the mind go?

My troubled and broken thought life...
so vast and long-reaching,
so deep and beckoning..

When I'm feeling healthy, in control, supported and loved,
my thoughts are mostly where they should be.
Spending my days giving hugs and selling greeting cards, etc. etc. etc.
etc.
I feel solid and grounded like a supported foundation.
I am content.
I am on medication, and it helps me thrive.
I attend a church that fills me with the good news of Jesus, and surrounds me
with an accepting, loving group of people.
I am the Christine that you see.

In these generally healthy moments of the every day,
I imagine myself wrapped in layers of protective garments.
Covered from head to toe with blankets and clothing of
trust and love.

The fibers of these garments provide security,
and enable me to walk through days of hardship with my head up.
My feet remain grounded, I am protected, I can get by.

My frailties, my anxieties and my depression however, are also strong.
Very strong.
There are moments, and there are weeks where THEY prevail.
And the tightly wrapped garments of protection are stripped off my back.
Sometimes in pieces, sometimes all at once.
I am the Christine that you don't see, or who doesn't want to be seen. 

I feel ugly when this happens, and I am weak, so very weak.
The illness that invades my mind, and rips away the protective layers,
jeopardizes my reasoning, and casts a shadow over my heart.
In my weariness everything is fuzzy.
I can't do tasks, I feel so tired, and everything is overwhelming.
Sometimes I can't even dwell on the promises of Jesus or recognize His love.
I just know that He is "there",
somewhere in all of this.

I am propelled by the fear and anxiety towards
hopelessness.
Vulnerable and exposed I feel shame.
Regret, bitterness, pain, self doubt, self hatred...
actually bring comfort-
for they are familiar.

My soul is the only place where the anxious thoughts cannot permeate.
The sacred place within me, that belongs to my heavenly Father.
It cannot be touched by disease, disability, shame, heartache or pain.
I hear myself praying.
I feel myself crying.
I know I am powerless,
I know I am fragile and weak.

I know that darkness will not keep Him away.
I know that His love is not limited or withheld.

For He created my mind
He knows every intricate detail about me.

I don't think its a good sign when I find my own blog depressing.
when i read it and think to myself..."Lady, brighten and lighten up!!
How annoying you must sound to anyone reading this stuff."

cry me a river, and get your act together!
write about something else!
they must be saying.

or maybe its just me.
maybe I'm the only one disgusted with myself.
the only one who sees all the unmet expectations and disappointments.
maybe I'm the only one who thinks our family is a joke.
YOU are a youth pastors wife?? HA!
Shouldn't you be doing MORE? 
volunteering MORE?
Shouldn't you be MORE of an example?
Somebody ELSE should take on the Youth Program, with a more
supportive and active wife!!!

self deprecation is my specialty,
living with shame for not meeting expectations.
I clothe myself in embarrassment and apologies
especially on Sunday's.
Some mornings I can't make it to church because the disappointment
in myself is too great.
Its too hard to face people knowing that I'm not doing enough.
I'm covered with blankets of guilt and depression so
that the only comfort I find is in the safety of my home.

Yet, we desperately need female youth workers.
desperately!!
It would be perfect if I could swoop down, roll up my sleeves
and jump into that wonderful world of teenage ministry!
I love it....LOVE it. I love the girls, so very much.
but loving from afar doesn't do a whole heck of a lot.
Its all about relationships, youth ministry is...
relationships.
which means I'm completely useless.

Its been about a year since my health took a dramatic turn downward.
And because I'm in a place of heightened self deprivation...
I've returned to some of my writing from that time.
Maybe reminding myself of where I've been will help me today.
Help me with this burdensome weight of disgust.

I know that Church work and depression is not uncommon;
Its just not always talked about.
this was interesting to find-
and watch.

errand run

I'm struggling this season with..... ERRANDS.
I have never been a fan of errand running.
The act of cruising around town to various places, searching for items to stroke off a list-
(that is, if I remember to bring my list...so many written, so many left on the door step).
But these days, I'm not only peeved by the actual shopping, dropping, picking,
and returning of people, places or things;
I am fearful of the whole event. From start to finish.

Like right now. This minute. I am savoring the quiet house and my leisure day.
But I cannot fully enjoy the luxury of this freedom.
I HAVE to buy a pink pig costume (i.e.pink clothing from top to bottom)
for tonight's school Christmas concert.
And, I am literally experiencing dread, silly nervous butterflies.
(truth be told for both the shopping AND the concert).

I can't keep asking my husband to run the errands,
even though he already (willingly) does most of the shopping.
How very sad and pathetic this all makes me feel.
Old Navy prides themselves in making your shopping experience
easy, positive, not to mention...loud inspiring!
Its not THAT hard.

I just wish I could tackle the "easy" stuff with more courage....
And not feel this pending doom.

where ya at?

i haven't written about depression in a very long time.
there is just so much to write and express.
there are so many things that have happened since this past December,
~when in a crumpled mess i desperately hailed the white "i surrender" flag.
~when i admitted it to myself, and those closest to me, that i just couldn't "do it" anymore.
~when i let go of caring too much, and slept for about a month.
straight.
There have been so many highs and lows since that time.... I've pretty much avoided the subject all together. 

In brief, what have the past 10 months looked like?
I've been without work,
I've talked to a few professionals,
I've said "no" to many commitments.
We've moved.
and I've taken a nap (if not 2), pretty much every single day.

In brief, what have I to show for it?
Am I better now?
{That is one of the frustrations around a disease like depression, it is invisible....a brain or mental disease. There are no large tumors to take away (for which I am grateful), no x-rays to refer to...no concrete tests to show that my body is better or that things are improving. Instead they look for signs in my: level of fatigue, appetite, weepiness, thought patterns, motivation, and the all encompassing ability to handle "stress" ..... large crowds/ fighting children/ grocery shopping/ getting out of bed/ getting dressed/ having a shower/ using the phone/ leaving the house/ church/ school functions/ hosting company/ cleaning/ driving the car/ making appointments/ advocating for my children.....}
Yes, stress in depression is mainly formed through the basic day-to-day stuff that just isn't easy anymore.
And yes, I can honestly say that I AM feeling better.

I see that demonstrated in my ability be involved in SOME activities again without feeling overwhelmed. I am not as tired all the time...and my appetite is back. Hooray! (I guess I was never meant to keep off those 10 lbs).Ha!
Interestingly enough, the greatest observation I have made within the realm of depression, is how I am not alone. Not alone in the experience. In the on-going battle. Other people are out there that can relate.

Until I began sharing on the blog, I wasn't aware of all the people around me, who have or are currently coping with, this disease. It has both surprised and saddened me. I welcome every single window or glimpse into someones soul, into another's vulnerability. I not only welcome, but I cherish and feel honoured. Talking about depression is incredibly difficult, especially to someone who "doesn't understand". So to commune with someone who has "been there" is like a balm to a very fragile, painful wound. It is a blessing from the Lord. He gives us people to feel safe with. He gives us comfort through people who understand.

I am so very thankful for all the comfort, compassion and love I have received in these last 10 months. I don't feel the same shame that I used to around this topic, and I don't feel alone anymore. (Thank you to those who have had courage to share your vulnerabilities, and your struggles with me...God bless you. I hope we can continue to find safety in each other.)

Two quotes I've found incredibly inspiring from Brene Brown's book "The gifts of Imperfection: Let go of who you think you're supposed to be, and embrace who you are."

"Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others." p. 16

   

"Courage is telling our story, not being immune to criticism. Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection." p. 53.