Tag: depression

Free House: In Need of a Rescue

Andy and I went and worked two hours in the free house today. I had made a goal last time to make a path down the hallway to the front door and I succeeded!! This past weekend Andy worked miracles in the basement and today he made a big dent in the bathroom and came behind me with a deeper cleaning in the first part of the hallway. I put on the “Elevation Worship” station on my music app, Andy got lights and a fan plugged in and with him working close by, I did not feel the oppression that I felt last time I was in there.

As I dug through layer after layer of rotting newspapers, mildewy clothes, ratty Christmas ornaments, I felt like the house was telling the story of someone who was paralyzed by life. So many things to organize, so many things to clean, so many belongings to care for. I came across packages of garbage bags, opened, ready to be put to use, but then abandoned. I found boxes of cleaning supplies, long past their useful shelf-life, bags of newspapers, ready to be taken somewhere, but then never moved. Picture evidence of good intentions, never able to be seen through.

This morning I woke up before my alarm went off. Made muffins for the family before anyone was awake. Sat and had my devotions and a nice cup of tea. I helped kids get up, get themselves organized, helped pack lunches. Got everyone out the door on time and I was dressed and ready to go and tackle some cleaning next door. Can I tell you, this is not my norm. I would say my days are about 50/50. Some days I wake up and I’m ready to tackle the world. Other days I wake up and I can’t do anything. Getting dressed feels like labor, I forget about morning devotions even being a thing, I count heavily on my children being able to take care of themselves, and after doing the bare minimum I get glued to my chair and I can’t move. Sometimes, after a couple hours, the panic of undone tasks will finally kick me into gear and I’ll go into hyper-efficient mode, and still manage to get the things done before the end of the day. But some days, thankfully not too often, I will text my husband and tell him, this is going to be a Non-Day, I will keep the kids alive, but that’s about it.

This is my life, and I am someone who is surrounded by support systems. My husband is supportive, he knows my struggle with depression and when I tell him it’s a non-day, he always answers cheerfully to just rest and how can he help? My kids do their chores with very little fuss, and if I am out of commission, they are all capable of keeping the house running. My church is a phone call away, ready to pray or offer encouragement, or physical help if the need arises. I am able to go to church every week and spend time in God’s presence in worship, and hear God’s word. I have friends I can text or message. I can put on Facebook that I need prayer and eighty people will answer me that they are praying and offer words of encouragement. I am a well-supported person, any rescue I need is always readily available. Talk about being a wealthy person!

I think about my neighbor. As far as I can tell, her social circle was very small. Her significant other passed away years ago, and she never had any children. She wasn’t involved in any faith communities. But, her brother is still living, and five years ago, he convinced her to leave and go and live with him. And I am so thankful that she received her rescue.

While I was cleaning I had the praise music blasting, and the song “Graves Into Gardens” by Brandon Lake and Elevation Worship came on. One stanza really stood out to me, as I slowly turned chaos into order, rescuing the house one garbage bag at a time;

You turn graves into gardens
You turn bones into armies
You turn seas into highways
You’re the only one who can
You’re the only who can

Basement Before
Basement After
Goal: make a path to the front door.
Mission accomplished!
Thinking I might tackle the living room next.

Inevitable Grief

The last time I wrote I had a euphoric Monday and I felt joy bubbling through me and I wanted to share that in my post. But as I went to post my blog, I had a superstition-driven thought that if I post about how happy I am, then bad things are going to happen to make me not happy. And while I don’t believe in superstition, I also know that life is hard, things happen. So I wasn’t overly surprised when the very next day I took my elderly dog to the vet and found out that he has advanced stages of cancer. 

And then, when I said goodbye to my two daughters who moved out of state these past two weeks, I discovered that while I am happy for them, excited about their futures, when I hugged them goodbye and watched them walk out the door, my heart did take a blow. 

I look around me, the world is still a beautiful place. Even as I write at this moment I can see the setting sun lighting up the trees, making them glow, showing off all their oranges and reds and leftover tinges of green. And I know that Jesus and his creation is beautiful. I can hear my two little boys playing a game with their twenty-two year old brother, and I am thankful for my older children and their patience and love and care for their younger siblings. I am aware of how over-abundantly I am cared for. A warm, cozy home. A husband who loves me and takes care of his family. A church where I can experience God’s presence and hear his word taught. 

Joy is still present, hovering on the edges of my life, waiting to be noticed. But I realized today that I am holding a lot of tension in my body. 

When I found out about my dog, the vet said we have a maximum of six months left, but could be a lot less. She gave me some pain medicine to give him (which has really helped) and told me what to look for to know if he’s in pain. We don’t want him to suffer and plan to take him back to the vet before he reaches that point. But how do I know when it’s the right time? Right now, he’s happy to see the kids and sleeps most of the day, but he’s a really low-maintenance dog and doesn’t complain so I’m worried that I will miss out on some clue and might inadvertently let him suffer when he doesn’t need to. And I find myself tensing up. Stiffen that backbone. Don’t relax. Be on alert. Must keep the dog from suffering. Must prepare for the grief of the kids who have grown up with this dog and love him dearly. Brace myself. 

My daughters officially packed up and left. I stiffened my backbone. This is a normal part of parenthood, letting go. Must be there for them as they make this transition. Must help the kids deal with their grief as their sisters are no longer easily accessible. Must keep a positive face on it, the girls don’t need to feel any guilt about leaving, I must not show sadness or it might make them feel sad. Brace myself. 

We have an election this week. I stiffen my backbone. Don’t watch the news. Scroll past all the political posts on social media. Don’t engage. Try not to think about the months to come as the potential for drama is high as one side has to concede to the other. Brace myself. 

And I think all this tension has to do with my poor handling of emotions. I have a history of not doing hard emotions. I ignore them. Suppress them. Distract myself from them. Rush over them. And I am at a place in life where I now realize that repressing the hard emotions means also repressing the good emotions. And these hard emotions don’t go away, they just hide and wait, disguising themselves as anger and depression. So, I know that my method of dealing with hard emotions is not right, not healthy. But it’s a really hard habit to break. 

Frankly, I think what I need is a good cry. Release. Take a pause for sadness. When I think of grief I think of the biggest losses I can think of: death of a child, a parent, a spouse. Pain that is so deep we don’t even want to imagine it. But grief is also for the inevitable losses. The ones we know have to happen, there is no surprise or shock, but they are still heavy.  Saying goodbye to your children’s dog who has loved your family faithfully for twelve years. Saying goodbye to your beautiful wonderful daughters who have grown into amazing young women, ready to take on the world. Recognizing how unhealthy our political environment is in our country and just acknowledging how sad that is. 

“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

So, I go into this next week with an odd prayer. Lord, let me be sad, let me feel. Let me un-stiffen my back bone and instead embrace the pain, trusting that it’s ok to feel these emotions, that truly, this is the only way forward. Knowing that joy still hovers on the edges, waiting for it’s time. 

As We Forgive Those Who Sin Against Us…

This summer I’ve been struggling with how to move forward in relationships where wrongs have been done in the past. How to move forward into something new. It’s all been a part of a long journey God has had me on, learning the right way to handle someone sinning against you. 

When I was young, my automatic response was to not dwell on whatever happened, try to forget it as quickly as possible, and just pretend it never happened. I did not have the emotional stability and security to explore feelings of rejection and betrayal. I needed those people to be my stability for me and if I suddenly didn’t have them, it felt like I would be the utmost alone and that felt like death. So, I did not acknowledge or dwell on sins against me. I just brushed it off as quickly as possible and moved on. 

God finally got me to a place where I could stand back and be objective and say, wait, that was wrong. That should not have happened. I should not have had to go through that. That process was really hard to go through, because suddenly I had a lot of things to grieve. Things that should have been processed years ago had all built up inside and slowly deadened all my emotions. And when I finally started opening up all those memories, there was a lot of grief to wade through. And anger. And some hard conversations where I had to say, you did this, and it really hurt. 

And then the next thing God took me through was learning about forgiveness. Getting to a place where I truly wanted only good things for those who have wronged me. And also, being careful to set up boundaries of what I would and would not allow in my relationships. 

But then, I felt stuck. I acknowledged the wrong, I forgave. I established healthy boundaries. But how to move forward into a healthy and happy relationship? 

Then this morning I woke up and for some reason was thinking about my marriage. I was thinking about how, when we first got married, we weren’t very good at loving each other. We made a lot of mistakes. But, because we made vows to each other, we pushed through each mistake. Asked forgiveness. Learned. Changed. Adapted. And now, a couple days short of our 25th wedding anniversary, I know with a certainty that I am loved and cherished and protected by my husband. It’s a love that we’ve grown into. And it’s a work that God has done in our lives. 

And I suddenly had the revelation that it’s that way with all of our relationships. We are not static people that stay exactly the same forever. We are all growing and changing. And even though I may have a history of hurt with someone, it’s possible to go through a healthy process of repentance, forgiveness, and reconciliation, because both people are changing and growing. I’m not saying this is the case for every relationship, if the other person has no interest in changing their behavior, it may be better to love them from a distance. But I think there are many relationships, especially within the body of Christ, where God is equally working on both people, taking them through the process of becoming more like Jesus, and teaching them how to repent, forgive, reconcile and move forward into even healthier connections with each other. And that fills me with joy. Jesus is in the work of redeeming. Taking the bad and turning it into something good. Allowing us to live a life where forgiveness is an option. And love can grow stronger and deeper. 

The Power of Small Changes

This past week I’ve had something unusual happen. I’ve been waking up in a good mood, feeling happy. As someone who has spent her entire life fighting lowgrade depression which occasionally morphs into full blown deep depression, waking up feeling happy feels strange. It’s not that I normally wake up in a bad mood. It’s just usually very neutral. Yes, I’m awake. New day. Better get moving. 

I find myself kind of poking this happiness. What are you doing here? Isn’t there something that I should be worried about or feeling upset about? I find myself examining every aspect of my life. Am I being a good mom, wife, friend? Am I using my time well? And while everything can always improve, I feel like everything is moving in the right direction. Huh.  

Is happiness simply the lack of conflict and problems? I hope not, otherwise, I can count on this disappearing pretty quickly. Life has a way of throwing stuff at you at a pretty regular pace. 

But, I don’t think that’s what it is. I think that I am finally seeing the fruit of a lot of small decisions and disciplines I’ve been slowly implementing. I think allowing myself a good six months to just sit with my grief when my foster daughter left was the beginning. Then tackingly my health with diet and exercise and working on getting back into music. All individual choices that have required daily discipline, but I am starting to see fruit, and easing of depression seems to be one of those good benefits. 

I was thinking about this same concept in the realm of parenting. I have concerns for some of my kids. Things I want to see changed. Things that worry me. And this morning as I sat at the breakfast table, my youngest sitting in my lap having a cuddle before school, I thought, this is how change happens. One day at a time. Me consistently loving them, pouring into them, providing a peaceful home where their needs are met. Correcting unwanted behavior as it happens. 

Sometimes when I am dwelling on things that are going wrong with my kids, I want something big and drastic that I can implement that will solve all the problems and fix it immediately. But that is rarely what works. Instead it is small changes, small choices, daily disciplines. 

For example, my son was having a really negative attitude about school starting up again. Everything he said was negative. His attitude was horrible and he was angry and in a bad mood constantly. After checking out the facts and realizing that the only real problem he was having was that he didn’t want to stop summer break where he could play all day and resented having to do actual work every day, I wanted his attitude to change immediately. I wanted this negativity to stop. I lectured him quite a bit. Surely if he just faced the facts, he would accept it and move on. Nope. No change. I finally implemented a “GOOD ATTITUDE” chart. Every day after school he had to tell me three good things that happened that day. And then he could tell me one thing that was challenging. Each day he could get a sticker for doing that, and every week that he filled his chart with stickers, he would get a dollar. 

The first day was comical in how hard it was for him to tell me three good things. It took him all afternoon and it was like he was fighting a lot of inner demons to be able to get the words out his mouth. (He really wanted the dollar, so he persevered.) The next day was a little easier.  By the end of the week he was getting in the car after school ready to tell me his three good things right away. By the end of the second week he had already forgotten about the chart. The negativity had ended and each day he was able to casually mention good things that happened during the day. And his mood had vastly improved. One small discipline, implemented daily. Long term results. 

I think it’s tied up with faith and hope. I have faith that God’s word is true, and I have hope that if I follow God’s precepts, I will see fruit which will come at the right and proper time. And for that, I am thankful. 

It’s Been a While

Hello Everyone. It’s been a while. I hope you all are well. I know I’ve not been consistently writing since January. I needed a break, and now I’m excited to have a place to share again. 

It’s summer here and school is out for a couple months. I purposefully did not make a lot of plans for the summer, but despite that, our schedule has still filled up so that my monthly calendar on the kitchen wall is filled with writing. 

This is the first summer in four years that it’s just our family. No foster kids. No other people staying with us. Just us. My oldest daughter came home for the summer which is an added bonus. My son who is in the army is now in Washington State and my seventeen year old is about to launch from the house for a summer of outreach all over the world. But, everyone else is close. It feels decadent. Rich. Luxurious. Just me and my family. It’s not a place I want to stay. I want to be someone who has a heart for people and is always helping in some way. But right now, this feels like a very necessary and very wonderful step in healing and recovering to just have a summer to breathe deeply, move slowly, and enjoy my family. 

This past year was kind of a double whammy for me. My youngest child entered school for the first time, and then after three years, at Christmas, my foster daughter returned to her own home. Two of the big things that identified me, stay-at-home mom of young children, and foster mom, were suddenly gone. Looking back, I can say that I have been mourning the loss of those roles. But, while I was in the middle of it, I wasn’t able to think clearly enough to say, YOU ARE MOURNING, and it’s normal, and you’ll be ok. Instead I just felt a bewildering combination of anger, sadness, depression, and numbness. Lost. 

I hope I can write more about that journey in the future. Right now I still feel like I’m in a discovery phase where I’ve got to figure out what this next stage of life looks like. Still a stay-at-home mom, but the kids need different things now. Not a foster mom any more, but still in contact with my foster daughter. My family still needs me, but I now have bigger chunks of time where I could do other things too. I’m praying for direction. But also feeling that right now I’m still in the resting stage. I’ve signed up to teach piano lessons one day a week at my church’s homeschooling Co-op and that will start in the fall. I’m excited about that. Something to look forward to. But I’m glad I’ve still got summer to enjoy before that begins. 

So, consider this the catch-up blog. I tell you why I’ve been gone and that I plan to start writing again. And then next time, I can just jump back into all the things I’ve thought about sharing with you all over the past months. I’ve read some good books I’d love to rant about. God has been gracious and merciful in so many ways. My kids have been up to the normal funny kid antics. I can’t wait to share! See you again soon. 

Crazy Brain

I’ve had a strange week. It’s been a good week. Good times with my kids. Lots of basketball games. Everything has been done that needs to be done. And then, it’s been a bad week. 

My brain has decided to pull up every bad memory it can think of from the entire span of my life and just flood my thoughts with them. I’m driving down the road and suddenly I’m remembering that one time in middle school where I was so embarrassed. Or I remember that long forgotten argument with my husband. Or I remember that horrible parenting I did years ago. Or I remember how that one time in college I acted like an idiot. And it just goes on and on. And it’s weird because I don’t feel emotionally connected to those memories. I feel very separate from myself, like I’m watching myself remember all this stuff and I’m making commentary, like, Oh yeah, that happened. Huh. Forgot about that happening. Yup, that was a thing. 

Yesterday I kind of hit bottom with it all. Found myself frozen on the couch again. Not wanting to move to do anything. And I finally kind of talked out loud to the whole situation. Ok, my body and brain seem to need to do this right now. I don’t know why. I’m just going to accept that today is a non-productive day. I’ll do all the “have tos” of the day, but nothing extra. And I did feel better after that. I stopped guilting myself for not being industrious and motivated and just went with it. 

Today I woke up feeling anxious. What kind of day is it going to be? Am I going to be energized, ready to tackle all kinds of extra projects or am I going to have to force myself just to do the basics. I set myself some goals. Must clean my room and the bathroom before lunch. Read my Bible. Sat and wasted time on Facebook. Then I think I had a shove from the Holy Spirit. You’re feeling emotional. Go play Beethoven. Beethoven is a great outlet for emotions. So, I sat down and played through an entire Sonata. And I felt a lot better. 

I decided to make a list of four goals for my year (learning that sonata properly is one of them). And then I went and cleaned my room. And while I sit in this little corner of order, I feel like yes, maybe I can accomplish things and life can be good. 

My kids’ bible verse for the week is Galations 2:20.

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

I’m human. I’ve collected my share of wounds, just like every other person on the planet. Sometimes I can walk through my days cheerfully, motivated, purposeful. Other days my brain is completely absorbed with processing, mourning, healing. But, over all of this is the fact that I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. I’m no longer trapped in my shame and guilt. Jesus’ work on the cross has covered all of that. I’m still here on this sinful earth. I still have my past hanging over my shoulder, but, the life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I am no longer alone. I have the Holy Spirit in me, comforting me, guiding me. Giving me wisdom. Loving me. 

I want life to look perfect. Problems and then instant solutions that wrap everything up neatly in a package. I want to wake up every day full of energy, on a mission, ready to change the world. I want my past to be touched with a magic wand so that all the consequences of sins done against me, and sins I have done against others will all disappear into the void, never to be seen or heard of again. I want to be full of faith, never wavering. I want each day to be me accomplishing great things and then ending with peaceful sleep. 

So far, I haven’t gotten any of those things. It seems so sporadic. So messy. One day good, the next day bad. One morning awesome, the afternoon messing everything up. One day I can conquer the world, the next day I can hardly get out of bed. So imperfect. 

But I am taking comfort in the fact that I am in Christ Jesus. He knows what he is doing with my life. And he does things in his own perfect time. His priorities and goals for my life are not the same as mine. And his are better. So me and my cluttered mind will move on with this imperfect day and I will rest in peace, knowing that I’m in Christ, he is in me, and nothing can separate me from that. Not even my crazy brain and fluctuating motivation. 

Morning Glories

My daughter wrote a story about someone who sinks into deep depression and then slowly, slowly, pulls out of it. And the story uses the Morning Glory flower as a symbol of hope. When I read the story I found myself sobbing, recognizing myself in the main character. Finally acknowledging the numbness that had taken over my life, which I had grimly tried to ignore as I pushed through each day, determined to not let my family down. And I was filled with a tiny spark of hope. Yes, you can pull yourself through. Depression does go away. Life returns. 

Since I’ve read that story I have been seeing Morning Glories everywhere. As I was driving down the road to take my kids to school, there, look, Morning Glories covering a fence. Hope. As I took a walk, there, look, Morning Glories in the neighbor’s yard. Hope. And yesterday when I found myself actually having the motivation to get out into my yard with my kids, play with them, plant some things, I found Morning Glories in the very back corner of the yard, a place I usually don’t go. And I laughed and took a picture and I knew that it was no longer a spark, but a full blown flame. Hope. 

I went on a retreat several weeks ago. During the retreat I dealt with some old wounds. Or at least, started dealing. And I found myself feeling emotions again. Sure, it was anger and pain, but I was feeling again. I read somewhere that in order to feel joy and happiness we have to allow ourselves to feel anger and pain. When we stuff the bad emotions we end up in a place where all our emotions are flat. We can’t have the good without letting ourselves feel the bad too. As I have allowed myself to process the hard emotions, I have found the lighter ones returning. 

After the retreat I felt myself going silent. I needed a break from words, from thoughts, from interacting with people. I needed to just sit and feel and mourn and heal. And that’s why there haven’t been any new blogs in a while. I didn’t let it bother me. I knew the words would come back when I was ready. And this morning I felt the familiar itch to put my thoughts down where I could see them. And it’s good to be writing again. 

We’ve had a lot going on in the family the last couple months. Made some big decisions about our kids’ schooling. My third child graduated high school. We got to have a mini family reunion as I had all my kids in one place for the graduation. And now summer is going full force as I try to keep track of everyone’s summer plans with kids going in all directions. I am living one day at a time. Welcoming joy back into my life. Keeping an eye out for Morning Glories. And, as always, resting in the fact that God is good. 

Failing? Still Loved.

Last night I had one of my music major nightmares, leftover from many years past. In the dream here was a big concert hall, full of people. A large stage, all lit up. A grand piano sitting empty, waiting. And my music teacher from college was standing in the wings, ushering me forward to go and perform my piece. Except I couldn’t remember what piece I was supposed to play and even when I looked at the program and saw the name, I had no memory of ever learning this piece. I was going to be made to perform and I was going to fail. 

This seems to be a theme that haunts me all the time. 

I have really been struggling with depression. All motivation seems to be gone. I do the necessary things that have to be done, but nothing extra. This weekend was really hard. I hit Saturday and just getting myself to eat some breakfast and get dressed felt like a major ordeal. I texted my husband to tell him that my ability to accomplish any tasks seemed to have left me. He suggested I take the day off and just not do anything. Which sounded great. Except it was Easter weekend and I had to get everything ready. Does everyone have an outfit to wear? Easter goodies. Easter dinner. Get the house cleaned up, family are coming. Try to get everyone’s schedules lined up. 

Just a lot to do. 

I ended up going to the store with three children in tow and I managed to get everything on the list, but the trip was really stressful. One kid wandered off and I spent ten minutes looking for him. Another kid was being impossible to please. I went through the self checkout  and then in the middle of all that had my blood sugar bottom out on me, which hasn’t happened in a long time. So I was quickly trying to finish checking out and pay so I could rip open some of the food packages that I had bought and eat something and get my blood sugar back under control. By the time I got home I felt like a failure. Bad attitude. Disorganized. The whole trip felt like a disaster. And my brain was just repeating that word over and over again. Failure. Failure. 

I’m not usually that mean to myself and so I made an effort to fight back. You know what, I went to the store. I didn’t want to go. I just wanted to sit in my chair and do nothing. But I went. And it was really hard, but I accomplished what I set out to accomplish. 

Not a failure. 

And telling myself that I’m not a failure feels like a victory in itself. Yay self-esteem! Yay positive thinking!  But I had an interesting thing happen last week that felt like it took this lesson a little deeper. 

I mentioned in my last blog that Child Services showed up to my house last week. I had done nothing wrong. The Social worker said I did nothing wrong. Case closed. She left. I was shaking, I was so upset. Self-righteous anger running through me. Praying out loud. Jesus, you know I’ve done nothing wrong. And it was true. In this scenario I was innocent. But suddenly I had a flashback of other times I’ve really blown it as a parent. My oldest kids saw me make a lot of mistakes. Not so innocent. And I felt like I heard Jesus whispering, even if you were guilty of anything and everything, I still love you the same. My love doesn’t change based on what you do. 

And that’s the lesson I am trying to grasp. Failure. Not a failure. It doesn’t matter. I am still loved. 

Fat Fridays: NonDepressed Me Doesn’t Understand Depressed Me

Happy Fat Friday everyone. I’ve been gone a bit. Almost didn’t write today, but it’s stll Friday, I’ve still got a chance at this! 

This past month my exercise has diminished down to a brisk walk when it’s not too cold outside. I finally canceled my membership with the KICKOFF app that monitors your diet, gives you daily workouts and checks in with you every day. I canceled because I was no longer using the services and it’s too much money to just let it keep going when I’m not using it. I actually felt better when I canceled though. I know what I want to focus on with exercise and I feel like I can do it just using free resources. I also know that I need a different eating plan than what I was doing, so I’m still trying to figure out that one. 

What I wanted to write about today was the fact that Non-depressed Me has no understanding of Depressed Me. This past year as I was exercising and eating healthy, and the weight was coming off, and I was feeling great, I had these niggling memories. Memories of times in the past when I would lose weight, do well, and then somehow, it all came creeping back on. And I was always a little disappointed with that Old Esther who failed her diet and exercise plans so often. What was wrong with me? Why would I exchange this wonderful feeling of health and accomplishment for one of gluttany and sloth? I really had no idea why I had failed so often in the past. But I knew that, THIS TIME, I would accomplish my goals and stay on the path. 

And then Depressed Me showed up. And it was like someone took a big plank of wood and smacked me upside the head. And when I came to, Non-Depressed Me was gone, Depressed Me had taken up residence and I had the “AH HA!” moment when I remembered, very clearly, why I had failed so many times in the past. Depression. 

It sucks the life out of you. My emotions feel flat. My ambition is gone. Nothing is enjoyable. 

I am a bookworm, I have probably read close to a book a day since I was eight years old. This past month I have read one book. And it was one I’d read a million times before and I picked it because it had a happy ending with low-levels of crisis. I find myself zoning out with solitaire and flipping through Facebook and wishing I could find a book I actually wanted to read. I am still taking walks, but only when the weather gets at least into the 40s (F). We are having a cold winter (for us) and it’s no fun. 

These past couple days I have felt marginally better. I started writing my blog again. I’ve been sitting down at the piano, playing Bach. Angry Bach. Agitated Bach. But at least it’s been a good outlet for whatever is going on inside me. I’ve still managed to stay focused on getting the family to eat healthier. I have been baking our bread, about every two or three days, and that has been satisfying. Every week this month I have sat down and found new recipes for the week, made a menu, made a grocery list and tried to stick to it. It’s been cost effective and I’ve been making the kids eat new things which has made meal times more interesting for me, perhaps a little more stressful for them, but they’ve been doing pretty good with it. 

I also gave up paper plates. I’ve been using paper plates for my kids for several years. It meant that I only had to wash dishes once a day. Now I have to wash dishes two or three times a day, so I don’t know if I am actually saving anything, but it has been nice to have everyone eating off of pretty plates and my home has felt more homey. So, it’s not all negative. And I’m starting to try to have patience and compassion for Depressed-Me. Get to know this person again. See what diet and weight loss are going to look like while this alterego is hanging around. I’ll let you know how this goes. 

When You Least Expect It

I stopped writing for a little bit. I have pondered just stopping completely. Just walk away. Reasons? I don’t have anything positive to say. No sense in dragging people down with my negativity. I have a lot of stress in my life that is tied into other people and their stories, and I have no freedom to share their stories and so I can’t talk about and explore all the reasons their stories are stressing me out. And probably the most honest, I feel myself in a deep dark place of depression and why would I want to share that with the world? 

Depression is a weird thing. I can stand back and be analytical. Yeah, the times that I get depressed are when I am emotionally stretched too thin. Too much on my plate. I’m overwhelmed. But then, there have been plenty of times that I have been in that position and not fallen into deep depression. So what’s the difference? How do I stop it from descending on me? I’ve tried hard to practice Self-care. I’ve tried very hard to keep my load at a bearable weight. I’ve tried very hard to be proactive about keeping depression at bay. And then there is a “Last Straw” moment and I feel myself sliding down into a pit. 

Today I sat in my chair in my room, opened the curtains so the sun would shine straight in my face. I sat there with my eyes closed and thought about Hope. 

Hope is such an elusive thing. I don’t know how to summon it up when I am at my lowest. But somehow, it has a way of wafting past my face when I am least expecting it. Today, as my eyes saw bright spots against my eyelids and the light warmed me up, I felt a stirring of hope. I realized that all my thoughts about God and his love for me and my inability to accept that on some fundamental level, all of that angst was not something I had to solve today. Today I could just focus on being thankful and praising God and that was enough for now. 

I decided to cancel my membership with the personal trainer app I’ve been using the past year. Not because they weren’t awesome and super helpful to me, but because I realized I needed to move forward with something different to fit where I am now, a year later. And instead of failure, it felt hopeful to start looking for something new.

Today I have decided that all the other myriad problems that are weighing me down can get fixed another day. Or never at all. Just deal with the problems that are right in front of me at this very moment. Cliche. But still true. Story of my life, trying to remember that and walk in it. 

Hope showed up with some sunshine today. I don’t know why. But I’ll take it. I don’t know how long it will last, but I’ll take what I can get. And on the days when hope doesn’t show up, I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other. Seek out the light. Trust that it will show up when I least expect it.