Hello Happy
I was walking through the grocery store today, with my two little kids. My 4 year old wanted pears. She has been wanting pears for days. We were on our way to get those pears, and I saw this apple juice that I really like on sale, and I felt something.
Anticipation.
It was a feeling that made my mind brighter, my face smile, and my hand reach out and grab that apple juice. It was the feeling that something good is going to happen, and I am looking forward to it.
I have had many feelings over the past few months. I am coming through the otherside of the worst depressive episode of my life. I have felt empty, dread, scared, alone, angry, hopeful, hopeless, sad, optimistic, failure, love, unworthy, unlovable, obligation, debilitating guilt, resentment, regret, humility, generosity, and compassion.
I haven't felt anticipation for months. But, I didn't even realize I was missing it until it came back.
I think this is a really good sign.
My counseling homework is to go on a 15 minute walk every single day. I have been mostly good about this. I am also to look in the mirror and say 3 positive things about myself. I am to fill my cookie jar up with quality cookies before I give my cookies away. That means, I need to take care of myself before I take care of other people. My cookies are different than your cookies. If I fill my cookie jar up first, I will have more cookies to share. I will be happier if I do this. I feel it is true, but it isn't a habit yet. I have a long way to go before this becomes intuitive to me.
I have also had to work on establishing boundaries, letting go of guilt, and finding opportunities for creative expression. This 'ole blog is one method of expression, singing is another, writing my book is another, drawing, writing poetry, photography: both the taking pictures and the editing of them. I love creating beautiful things.
Music.
I never knew that music could be so healing to me. It is.
I have a friend from church who knew I was having a difficult time.
I say "difficult time." Depression is so hard to explain. I realize that people who haven't had it just can't understand what it feels like to lose the will to live. I would pray at night that God would just let me die. Let someone who wanted to live, live, and let me go. I don't know what kind of prayer that is. But it is one that was repeated.
Why would you pray for that, Evelyn? Why?
Because living was hard. Living was miserable. Everything I loved and valued was gone. Not literally. Nothing physical had changed in my surrounding, but through my mind. There was no love there. There was no hope.
I would ask Ian at night before I would fall asleep,"Do you think I will get better?" I would most likely be crying because of the heartache I felt, the guilt I felt for not being grateful for my wonderful life.
Ian would say,"I think you will."
I would say,"Do you really think so?"
He would say, "I think so."
My 8 year old daughter told me while I was driving her somewhere one day, "I wish I had a happy mom, again. I miss having a happy mom." My heart would break for her. I would wish she did, too.
That is what I mean when I say "difficult time."
I had a friend who knew I was having a difficult time. She asked me if we could sing together. The first week we were sitting at her piano. We sang a few hymns. We sang songs from her binders with music she's collected over the years. She has a beautiful soprano voice. The first day we were singing "For Good" from Wicked. It is a beautiful song. Tears came to my eyes so many times while we were singing that first day. She was the friend I needed. She was reaching in when nobody else could. I know it was so simple for her, but so profound for me. She was my friend who was helping me "change for the better." She had come into my life for a reason.
You know the story in The Bible about the man who was paralyzed with palsy? He had four people carry him to Jesus. There were so many people around they had to lift him down through the roof. I feel like I was paralyzed emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. I needed people to carry me. Ian took on the brunt of that burden, but there were other people to. My singing friend was one of the four. One of the beautiful four.
I can't carry my bed, but I can walk.
I can anticipate drinking apple juice.
And I can sing.
Anticipation.
It was a feeling that made my mind brighter, my face smile, and my hand reach out and grab that apple juice. It was the feeling that something good is going to happen, and I am looking forward to it.
I have had many feelings over the past few months. I am coming through the otherside of the worst depressive episode of my life. I have felt empty, dread, scared, alone, angry, hopeful, hopeless, sad, optimistic, failure, love, unworthy, unlovable, obligation, debilitating guilt, resentment, regret, humility, generosity, and compassion.
I haven't felt anticipation for months. But, I didn't even realize I was missing it until it came back.
I think this is a really good sign.
My counseling homework is to go on a 15 minute walk every single day. I have been mostly good about this. I am also to look in the mirror and say 3 positive things about myself. I am to fill my cookie jar up with quality cookies before I give my cookies away. That means, I need to take care of myself before I take care of other people. My cookies are different than your cookies. If I fill my cookie jar up first, I will have more cookies to share. I will be happier if I do this. I feel it is true, but it isn't a habit yet. I have a long way to go before this becomes intuitive to me.
I have also had to work on establishing boundaries, letting go of guilt, and finding opportunities for creative expression. This 'ole blog is one method of expression, singing is another, writing my book is another, drawing, writing poetry, photography: both the taking pictures and the editing of them. I love creating beautiful things.
Music.
I never knew that music could be so healing to me. It is.
I have a friend from church who knew I was having a difficult time.
I say "difficult time." Depression is so hard to explain. I realize that people who haven't had it just can't understand what it feels like to lose the will to live. I would pray at night that God would just let me die. Let someone who wanted to live, live, and let me go. I don't know what kind of prayer that is. But it is one that was repeated.
Why would you pray for that, Evelyn? Why?
Because living was hard. Living was miserable. Everything I loved and valued was gone. Not literally. Nothing physical had changed in my surrounding, but through my mind. There was no love there. There was no hope.
I would ask Ian at night before I would fall asleep,"Do you think I will get better?" I would most likely be crying because of the heartache I felt, the guilt I felt for not being grateful for my wonderful life.
Ian would say,"I think you will."
I would say,"Do you really think so?"
He would say, "I think so."
My 8 year old daughter told me while I was driving her somewhere one day, "I wish I had a happy mom, again. I miss having a happy mom." My heart would break for her. I would wish she did, too.
That is what I mean when I say "difficult time."
I had a friend who knew I was having a difficult time. She asked me if we could sing together. The first week we were sitting at her piano. We sang a few hymns. We sang songs from her binders with music she's collected over the years. She has a beautiful soprano voice. The first day we were singing "For Good" from Wicked. It is a beautiful song. Tears came to my eyes so many times while we were singing that first day. She was the friend I needed. She was reaching in when nobody else could. I know it was so simple for her, but so profound for me. She was my friend who was helping me "change for the better." She had come into my life for a reason.
You know the story in The Bible about the man who was paralyzed with palsy? He had four people carry him to Jesus. There were so many people around they had to lift him down through the roof. I feel like I was paralyzed emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. I needed people to carry me. Ian took on the brunt of that burden, but there were other people to. My singing friend was one of the four. One of the beautiful four.
I can't carry my bed, but I can walk.
I can anticipate drinking apple juice.
And I can sing.
.jpg)
Thank you for this. I've been feeling a lot of those things you listed lately--the guilt is huge. Oh my, the guilt. Every time I make a decision for myself, for my kids, for my husband, I hear a little voice telling me that I should have done something different. That all my priorities are backwards. That I'm a failure in every area in my life. I feel guilty because I prayed and prayed and prayed for months for another baby. I wanted her SO BADLY. And now that she's here I can't handle it. And then I just feel so hopeless because I don't have anything else to give. I have a sweet friend like your singing friend. She's asked me more than once if I think I have postpartum depression (my baby is ten weeks old). And until this week my answer has been no, I don't think so. The lack of sleep is just messing with my head. But now...I don't know. And if I can't be sure the answer is no, that's a reason to be concerned, isn't it? But whatever it is, after reading this, I feel a little more hope that it can get better. Someday I will sleep through the night instead of waking up four or five or six times. Soon my husband will be coming home from work at five instead of nine. Soon my kids will all be healthy instead of being sick for two weeks. I have much to be grateful for. Thank you for sharing your story. I'm sure there are more people being inspired by you that aren't commenting. So from all of them, thank you.
ReplyDeleteHello my sweet friend! It is so hard to admit that depression is part of my life. It is humbling, and hard, and admitting it to ourselves is really difficult. I strongly encourage you to talk to your doctor. Depression is very common, and very treatable. I take medication, and am doing counseling. Singing alone wouldn't be enough. Keep you and your family safe, and do what you need to do to keep going. It WILL get better. Stay safe. Much love to you on your journey.
DeleteWhen a little happiness slips in, you know you can get well again.
ReplyDeleteBless that bottle of apple juice and all the people in your support network. Hooray for blogging about it, too. Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteYes, yes, all of this yes. I'm so happy you are feeling better. I couldn't be happier. Much love to you. And all those who helped carry you.
ReplyDeleteI just found your blog, somehow on Facebook, and since I like blogs, and I knew who you were, I clicked on it. I am glad! My husband struggles with depression, and though I have experienced it very fleetingly myself (like just a few bad episodes, almost not worth mentioning compared to dealing with depression yearly and monthly and daily), it is so good for me to read more about it. Thank you for sharing your experiences. It helps me to understand what he is feeling a little bit more, and know some things I can do to help a little more. And I'm glad you got excited about the apple juice. Excitement makes the harder things in this life bearable!
ReplyDeleteIf you were here, I would love to sing with you. I'm so glad you have a friend to sing with in Nebraska. And that she took the time to ask you to sing with her. Hurray for the friends who help carry our beds when we need it.
ReplyDelete