Depression and Church Attendance
This is another post about depression.
I have been wading through the muck of it for the past few months. For some reason, winters are harder. Science something. SAD something. Blah, blah, blah.
It has been a long, cold Nebraska winter. And it won't be over for months.
I am still me. I am still the silly one who makes slightly inappropriate jokes. I am still the one who enjoys a Saturday run, and a night out with friends. I am still a mom who makes dinner sometimes, and goes to work every day.
I am still me.
Just sometimes the depression takes over. It feels like waves in the ocean. I am at the top and then the bottom, and sometimes the waves go up in elevation, and sometimes they go down into a valley. I've been fighting the wave that has been going lower and lower. I am not doing well with the fight, but I keep fighting. Some days I actually feel like I am getting better, and then the next day I am reminded that no, I am actually getting pulled lower.
So, this is about going to church.
I am a Mormon, and church is 3 hours long. When I am feeling fully myself, I love church. Truly love it. I love being around people, and hearing the messages, and thinking about my relationship with God, my family, and my friends. Normally, I love the music, and the children, and the smiles. I feel genuine love being given and received.
When I am feeling the lows of depression, I get anxious even planning to go to church. It starts on Saturday, if not sooner.
"Saturday is a special day, its the day I get ready for Sunday."
Unless I spend Saturday in bed. What is it like to spend a day in bed, really? It is like sleeping until 10:00. It is like hearing my children outside my room and dreading the work that is ahead of me. My children will want to be with me. They will want to talk to me. They will argue and I will need to tell them to stop. They will want to drink juice and milk, and they will need help getting those things.
I get up to run. As my mood manager, Ian assures me I should run on Saturday. I have had a hard time making the morning runs lately, so I have gone running in the afternoons. Then I shower. Then I eat. Then I fold some laundry, or run to the grocery store with one of my little children. They are craving the one-on-one time. Then I am exhausted, and want to go back to bed.
Sunday morning.
Even picking out a dress is hard. "Sunday best." Put on my Sunday best. What should I wear? It is overwhelming. Dumb, right? Something so simple as a choice of what to wear. But, when making it through a basic day is difficult, putting on a dress, and some make-up, and sticking me in a pew with my children for over an hour and ask us all to be quiet is completely overwhelming in a big way.
Then there is going to be a talk with a message. It could be anything: humility, charity, personal revelation. Anything. Normal me would love it. Depressed me will feel overwhelmed and detached from it. Depressed me may even feel judged by it, and instead of bringing hope, it will cover me in a deeper cloud.
Then, have people ask me how I'm doing. Kind people. People I love. And I don't know whether to be honest and tell them I am not doing well. Then they will ask what they can do to help. I don't have a clue. Or I can fake it and say,"I am doing so great. How are you?" Or, if people avoid talking to me, then I am rejected and don't matter. I can't win. Conversations are hard to win. Brains are complicated.
Then I have to worry about triggers. I have two that I have to worry about church: Feeling overwhelmed, which is an easy trigger to pull. It can happen when my child runs up to the podium. It can happen when my toddler wants my hymn book while I am using it to sing the harmony to a hymn. And then there is a new one I just discovered. Adults reprimanding children in what I interpret as an unjust way. I don't like it when children are yelled at. Depressed me is very, very sensitive to the vulnerability of children. It is something I like about her, but I don't like that it paralyzes me with a deep and sudden sadness.
If I make it through all three hours of church, which I haven't for the past 4 weeks, then I come home exhausted. Completely. I have nothing left. I go back to bed. Ian is on his own for dinner, with the children. It is unfair. I hope he feels the help that I know surrounds me with my brain, but I cannot feel with my heart.
Depression is a master of illusion.
I have been wading through the muck of it for the past few months. For some reason, winters are harder. Science something. SAD something. Blah, blah, blah.
It has been a long, cold Nebraska winter. And it won't be over for months.
I am still me. I am still the silly one who makes slightly inappropriate jokes. I am still the one who enjoys a Saturday run, and a night out with friends. I am still a mom who makes dinner sometimes, and goes to work every day.
I am still me.
Just sometimes the depression takes over. It feels like waves in the ocean. I am at the top and then the bottom, and sometimes the waves go up in elevation, and sometimes they go down into a valley. I've been fighting the wave that has been going lower and lower. I am not doing well with the fight, but I keep fighting. Some days I actually feel like I am getting better, and then the next day I am reminded that no, I am actually getting pulled lower.
So, this is about going to church.
I am a Mormon, and church is 3 hours long. When I am feeling fully myself, I love church. Truly love it. I love being around people, and hearing the messages, and thinking about my relationship with God, my family, and my friends. Normally, I love the music, and the children, and the smiles. I feel genuine love being given and received.
When I am feeling the lows of depression, I get anxious even planning to go to church. It starts on Saturday, if not sooner.
"Saturday is a special day, its the day I get ready for Sunday."
Unless I spend Saturday in bed. What is it like to spend a day in bed, really? It is like sleeping until 10:00. It is like hearing my children outside my room and dreading the work that is ahead of me. My children will want to be with me. They will want to talk to me. They will argue and I will need to tell them to stop. They will want to drink juice and milk, and they will need help getting those things.
I get up to run. As my mood manager, Ian assures me I should run on Saturday. I have had a hard time making the morning runs lately, so I have gone running in the afternoons. Then I shower. Then I eat. Then I fold some laundry, or run to the grocery store with one of my little children. They are craving the one-on-one time. Then I am exhausted, and want to go back to bed.
Sunday morning.
Even picking out a dress is hard. "Sunday best." Put on my Sunday best. What should I wear? It is overwhelming. Dumb, right? Something so simple as a choice of what to wear. But, when making it through a basic day is difficult, putting on a dress, and some make-up, and sticking me in a pew with my children for over an hour and ask us all to be quiet is completely overwhelming in a big way.
Then there is going to be a talk with a message. It could be anything: humility, charity, personal revelation. Anything. Normal me would love it. Depressed me will feel overwhelmed and detached from it. Depressed me may even feel judged by it, and instead of bringing hope, it will cover me in a deeper cloud.
Then, have people ask me how I'm doing. Kind people. People I love. And I don't know whether to be honest and tell them I am not doing well. Then they will ask what they can do to help. I don't have a clue. Or I can fake it and say,"I am doing so great. How are you?" Or, if people avoid talking to me, then I am rejected and don't matter. I can't win. Conversations are hard to win. Brains are complicated.
Then I have to worry about triggers. I have two that I have to worry about church: Feeling overwhelmed, which is an easy trigger to pull. It can happen when my child runs up to the podium. It can happen when my toddler wants my hymn book while I am using it to sing the harmony to a hymn. And then there is a new one I just discovered. Adults reprimanding children in what I interpret as an unjust way. I don't like it when children are yelled at. Depressed me is very, very sensitive to the vulnerability of children. It is something I like about her, but I don't like that it paralyzes me with a deep and sudden sadness.
If I make it through all three hours of church, which I haven't for the past 4 weeks, then I come home exhausted. Completely. I have nothing left. I go back to bed. Ian is on his own for dinner, with the children. It is unfair. I hope he feels the help that I know surrounds me with my brain, but I cannot feel with my heart.
Depression is a master of illusion.
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You are not alone. Depressed or not, I love you! Call me WHENEVER you want. :-D No judgement.
ReplyDelete-Jenny
It's a tough ride. You may find solace that others will read your honest, straightforward description and know that they are not alone. Blessings.
ReplyDeleteThanks Tom.
DeleteI love this, thanks for sharing this, I kept wondering why church feels hard now, my therapists lets me know its normal when you have depression (mine is postpartum) so I get through it, I know I need to do it and just get through it and hope for the 'sunny' days. Seriously love this, I have a hard time going to any "event" where there will be alot of people I have to talk to. YOur awesome!
ReplyDeleteThank you Miriam. It always feels good to know we aren't alone, right? You are also awesome. Let's get wait for those sunny days together.
DeleteThank you so much for this. I'm in the middle of the ocean swell right now, with not much idea if I'm going up or down next. Have you seen the TED talks by brene brown on vulnerability and shame? How I love them.
ReplyDeleteI haven't read those TED talks. I will look them up. I hope you stay up, my friend. If not, we will ride these ocean waves together. But I wish we were riding them together while playing basketball!
DeleteI just wrote an awesome post on here and then I had to choose how to publish, and the bloody thing lost my essay. Grr!
ReplyDeleteThe important bit was when I said we all need to kick social Norm in the crotch and just be ourselves regards of what he, and others think. Much harder done, but a fun thought.
shane
I hate it when my essays are lost. Shane, thank you! Your mustache really breaks through the clouds for me and makes me supremely happy.
DeleteI do not know you, but I had to comment. (I read this because Rob Wells posted it on his fb page.) I dealt with postpartum depression after my #4 and now that #5 is a few months old, it keeps dropping hints that it wants to come back. I have felt everything you described here. And, man, that is such a difficult, dark place to be. One of the best pieces of advice given to me last time, by my sweet visiting teacher who had dealt with depression herself, it's this: Do only what you HAVE to do, then do what you love. Surround yourself with the colors, smells, sounds that make you feel good (and not the ones that will pile on guilt). Remembering that little bit is helping me manage a bit better this time around.
ReplyDeleteAmanda, That is beautiful. I am going to take that advice. Maybe I will have one of my friends put it in vinyl on my wall and my Mormon heart will then know happiness. :) I really Love it. "Do only what you HAVE to do, then do what you Love." I am going to do better at that. Thank you for sharing.
DeleteOh Evelyn, I'm sorry. There are no 'easy wins' with depression and it seeps into all aspects of life until we feel like we can't get away from it. I know you have gotten lots of advice--I just read the facebook comments--but I wanted to touch on one thing mentioned there, Vitamin D. My husband is a behavior health nurse and worked with an adolescent unit. When they got a new intake--kid in absolute crisis--the first they did was give them Vitamin D. 1000 mg. 2/3 of teens are deficient in Vitamin D. Not only does that affect their brain chemistries, but it makes processing their meds more difficult too. The body metabolizes Vitamin D well, you can't OD on it and it can make a big difference. Not everyone notices the difference, so it's good to have a 'mood manager' like Ian to tell you if it seems like it's helping. You can also get it from the sun, but it required 20 minutes 'swimsuit' or an hour arms and legs exposed. Most of us can't do that. Especially in a Nebraska winter. Know that even when you feel grey, you are a light to the people around you. Your kids will learn from this, it will grow them and they will be okay. They have a great mom who loves them, and a great dad who loves them and loves his wife. Maybe keep a gratitude journal, definitely read or listen to Brene Brown like sweet Margo suggested--Daring greatly is awesome, so is The Gifts of Imperfection. KNOW that you are loved, even when you don't feel it. Get a soft blankie to wrap up in, let yourself cry, let people hug you even when you don't want them to. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteI am not joking about Vitamin D. I have an appointment in a few days and I have heard this now from 5 different people, so I will be sure to mention it. Thank you sweet Josi. I appreciate every word.
DeleteLove this! Love love love it! Are you on Facebook? Can we connect? Fb.com/malyngalloway is love to chat with you. Im going through a really hard time right now.
ReplyDeleteI don't know how I missed this comment? I am on facebook. Evelyn Hornbarger. Find me.
DeleteLove this! I feel this way often. Thanks for putting words to it. It's nice to know you're not alone. :) Just remember Heavenly Father knows you're heart. I strongly believe that we all do the best we can in a given situation with the skills and abilities we have at the time. Your best is all you have to give. Sometimes my best is staying in bed and not screaming at my children. ((HUGS)).
ReplyDeleteJust want you to know you are not alone in this. I have bi-polar 2, and those waves of depression are a hard ride. And church is one of those overwhelming things for me as well on the down days. I appreciate your honesty and willingness to share. I'm so glad I'm not alone.
ReplyDelete