Let Your Burdens Come Undone

I'm starting to see the patterns more clearly.  Something happens that triggers a ptsd response and try as I might to "deal" with it in a healthy way, years of repressed grief are difficult to just let go of, so my mind body and soul do what they have always done; try to bury it.  Part of that is normal.  How can I function if I'm crying daily?  There are always meals to cook (or at the very least decide on and order out for!) Laundry to wash, fold and let sit in baskets (let's be real here), dishes to rinse, stack and wash later, bills to pay, checkbooks to balance, budgets to set... you get the picture.

I'm getting better at allowing myself freedom to release my feelings but I'm not all the way there yet, so when the last fight with my daughter occurred I allowed myself a few tears and then promptly put my emotions on the back burner and went about my usual routine.  What happened next is what inevitably happens.  I experienced a short bout of depression, during which I began to suffer with an excruciating pain in my neck/spine.  I have a long history with chronic pain and when it strikes I become quickly hopeless because it's debilitating. Thankfully I found  a new chiropractor who has been helping me and the pain has been greatly alleviated.  This lifted my state of despondency quickly since it gave me hope.  

With less pain, and the vibrant colors of Autumn on the horizon and a spring in my step I jumped into a happy-go-lucky upswing with such an extreme urge to live fully that I experienced a bout of mania...some impulsive shopping.  (hey no judging I limited myself to the dollar store and decorated my house for Autumn!) I was truly on a life high, shopping, crafting, planning and living. For an entire week I was on the go, staying up late, not getting much sleep, waking up early and staying busy busy busy. I then spent a fun filled weekend with my dear cousin, staying up til the wee hours of the morning giggling, talking and bonding. We of course slept very little, and we had a few drinks and indulged in some rich food...all things I'm not accustomed to. But truly amazing fun and I can't wait to do it again!!! :)

By the time I arrived home Sunday evening I could feel the fatigue of the week setting in and by Monday by throat was sore...So I had done a number on my body and lowered my immune system. I didn't just catch a cold either, I caught a fricking walking dead zombie plague.  The mother of all viruses that turned bacterial.  16 days of misery.  5 days of fevers. 10 days of antibiotics.  Coughing, oh the coughing...I've probably developed some ab muscles from coughing.  I know I did some incidental kegels whilst coughing...

Two weeks of pain followed by two weeks of illness and my house was seriously trashed.  Talk about overwhelmed...I don't handle clutter well at all.  I like my home to be neat, tidy and sanitized. Anything less makes me feel out of sorts.

All this to say that I just spent the last day and a half marathon cleaning my house and am starting to feel like it's back in order and of course my pain level has shot back up with all the bending & lifting. There is no doubt in my mind that one type of pain triggers the other but I'm determined to not let physical pain (especially one acquired by productive cleaning) trigger a negative emotional response.
(wonder if I'll ever get to the point where I can prevent emotional pain from triggering physical pain??)

I decided to take a cleaning break and sit down at my computer, I felt like looking at some old blogs...and I came across this entry: When Black & White Turn to Gray which was about a fight with my daughter from last May. At the time I wrote this we hadn't spoken in almost a year, and it went on like that until Christmas.  We then slowly began to rebuild our relationship.  We spent some quality one on one time together, worked out some issues.  Did some shopping, got some lunches, coffees, had some girl time.  Fun. Love. Hugs. Mother-daughter time.  I thought we were on the road to restoration.  And then it just fell apart.  She had some issues.  She talked. I listened.  She vented. I validated.  She shared her hurts. I honored them. I apologized for what was mine. But it wasn't enough.  Her anger was visceral. Her words were again tinged with venom. She spewed hatred. She crossed boundaries. She blamed. She triggered me and I ultimately lost my cool. Now it's been quiet again.

This happened shortly before my neck pain started.  It feels like this fight was the same fight, she's mad and still saying hurtful things.  It's no wonder I had a ptsd response.  I feel like I have to continue defending my stance on why I'm angry with my abuser, why I'm hurt by the the one who enabled his abuse.  I just want to heal and move on but in some ways people won't let me.  How can anyone ask me to be in the same place as the man who molested me? The last thing I said to my daughter was that I don't know how to have a relationship with her while she is aligned with my abusers.  It was the single hardest text I've ever written.  I had to set a boundary for my own mental health, with my own child.  How fair is that? It's no wonder I'm hurting and my heartache is manifesting into bone & muscle pain.  I'm surprised I'm still standing.  It's absolutely breaking my heart.  It's literally ripping me in two.  I can't choose one over the other. What she's asking of me, would literally mean the undoing of all I've worked towards in my healing.  The undoing of my own personal sanity.  Yet, she is MY child. I want to choose her, sacrifice for her.  How can I do that and not come undone? I miss my baby girl.  I feel an emptiness inside, that I've been ignoring for fear that I will completely fall apart and not be able to to be put back together again. It's not natural for a mother to not see, hear, touch, hold, hug, kiss, love their own flesh and blood; not for days, weeks, months. This is not how motherhood is supposed to be.  It's just not.

(So of course as I wrote the above paragraph I bawled like a baby.  The line from the song He Knows by Jeremy Camp "let your burdens come undone" is where I struggle most when giving it to God...but when I'm writing, it all comes out.  That's why I blog!)

There is this peace in my heart about where I'm at in life despite all the pain and suffering. Ultimately I know it comes from the Holy Spirit, but I also believe that it's from accepting and being still and in the acceptance and stillness I know that He's working in my life.  I see all the beauty from ashes, all the strength from suffering, and all the character from perseverance.  I don't know what the future holds, but I know it holds a promise for good so I will keep on keepin on, taking one day at a time.

#HeKnows

Lyrics:
All the bitter weary ways
endless striving day by day
you barely have the strength to pray
in the valley low

how hard your fight has been
how deep the pain within
wounds that no one else has seen
hurts too much to show 

all the doubt you're standing in between
And all the weight that brings you to your knees

HE KNOWS, HE KNOWS 
EVERY HURT AND EVERY STING
HE HAS WALKED THE SUFFERING
HE KNOWS, HE KNOWS
LET YOUR BURDENS COME UNDONE
LIFT YOUR EYES UP TO THE ONE
WHO KNOWS
HE KNOWS

we may faint and we may sink
feel the pain and near the brink
but the dark begins to shrink
when you find the one who knows

the chains of doubt that held you in between
one by one are starting to break free

every time that you feel forsaken
every time that you feel alone
He is near to the broken hearted
every tear
He knows…

Depression Awareness

It seems everywhere I look the whole world is filled with talk of the tragic suicide of comedian Robin Williams. Every news-feed, blogger, writer and twitter-er has hopped on the well-meaning band wagon with something to say. Heart felt condolences for his family and sad goodbyes for a well loved man with much notoriety for his many talents. 

I'm going to be brutally honest here.  It kinda pisses me off.  And here's why.  Why does it take the death of a celebrity for people to wake up and realize this nation is facing a huge problem?  Why does it take the suicide of a famous comedian for people to understand that many people who suffer from depression are in fact hiding behind a facade of humor?  Robin Williams was not some exception. I would be curious to know how many other prominent comedians who suffered the same fate used their talents to disguise their pain in the same way. (think back to the many great ones who have died of drug overdoses: John Belushi, Chris Farley to name a few) 

Comedy is an art.  For most people art is a form of therapy. But for many humor can also be a mask.  I know this too well myself.  Which means it's not just reserved for those with stardom but also for us regular joes. 

My therapist has laughed at me for 8 years.  She giggles so much at some of my sessions there should be a cover charge for her instead of the other way around. Or at the very least, I should require a two drink minimum. Seriously folks, I'm not even kidding.  We're talking comedy club level stuff. It's my mask.  I wear it well. Clearly my material is not up to Robin William's caliber, I don't have the stuff that makes a multi-millionaire with Hollywood movies & HBO specials. I'm certainly no comedian extraordinaire. I'm just your average Midwestern girl- funny-if you really know me.  But it's no secret, I use sassy, sometimes sardonic humor to hide my feelings. And I get laughs. 

I think Robin Williams was amazing.  He will be missed by many.  It's not those heartfelt messages that I am upset by.  It's the fact that it took his suicide as a much loved celebrity, for people to realize that we need to raise an awareness about depression and what it looks like. And it's my fear that regular people will still be overlooked.  

Not to mention the problem that exists with social media. Let's face it, as soon as the next big news story hits the feeds; all the internet buzz will die down and with it all the "awareness" and we'll be back to where we were. With little to no interest in the facts and the real people all around will be once again in the shadows back to suffering alone. The friends and family members who are the regular people around us daily suffering with severe depression will still be facing their demons alone. But they won't get noticed or recognized because they aren't famous. Everyone will just go about their busy lives paying no attention to; and often passing judgment on those "pathetic depressed people who can't get their act together and just get over it."  

For they are just the dregs of society. The unproductive ones and the many who drain our tax dollars. The addicts and the whores, the welfare moms and the mentally ill, the all those who just can't seem to hold down a job and are wandering aimlessly through life.  What about that bum on the corner who spends his only $ on booze or that grown adult who lives with their parents still or that stay-at-home-mom with grown kids who sits on her fat ass all day and watches tv and cries.    

Any one of these people could hide behind humor, or use any other mask to disguise their pain and then in one tragic night slip away from the world silently and no one would notice.  It won't matter when they take their life, because they didn't add so much to everyone's life with their comedy and movies and humor and inspirations like that of a celebrity. So we don't need to draw awareness to their hurts and their debilitating depression. We don't need to blog and twitter about them.  Just the ones with fame.  

The fact remains that these regular people feel just as alone as any depressed celebrity feels.  That is depression. Alone in a crowded room.  Alone in fame. Alone.

Let me tell you what I've learned from my first hand experiences:

Not all people who suffer with depression are mentally ill. Not all mentally ill people are depressed. They are not one in the same.  It's not a one size fits all diagnosis. 

Not all people who suffer with depression are addicted to drugs or alcohol.  Not all addicts are depressed. 

Not all people who suffer with depression have a chemical imbalance that drugs can fix.  In fact, many times anti-depressants make it worse.  Guess what, even IF and WHEN someone is lucky enough to find a medicine that works, it's not fool-proof.  There is no miracle drug, and it's certainly not without it's side effects. No matter what, depression rebounds.  That is the nature of this beast. Whether it's cyclical, situational, chemical, seasonal, post traumatic, it will inevitably be back. And just knowing that, is sometimes enough to trigger another episode strangely enough. 

Not all people who suffer with depression are ungrateful and without joy.  Nor do they "just"  need to pray and have faith.  Or "just" need Jesus.   Case in point: I've been a Christian my whole life. I've been with and without faith.  I've heard the very voice of God whisper in my ear. I've felt His presence so tangible I will NEVER doubt His existence again.   I've worshiped Him in good times and in bad, I've felt His hand on my head and His arms around me.  I've felt the Peace that passes all understanding and I've had Joy that overflows, but I've also wandered through the dry dessert, and waited in the wilderness and cried out to Him while lying with my face to the floor begging Him to free me from this pain & anguish.  I know God.  I have faith and yet I still have a black hole in my heart and an emptiness that I believe won't be filled until I'm free from this earth.    

I've been in therapy for 10 years.  I've been told that it is unhealthy to have black & white / all or nothing thinking. Why is it then, when addressing depression that the rest of the world who has not suffered with depression gets to treat those of us with depression with this type of mindset?  It's not simple.  There is no easy fix.  It's not a 1, 2, 3...just go to the doctor. Just go get 'help'.  Just get a pill. Just be happy.  Just tell me what is wrong.  Just just just...Just shove it.  Just shut your damn pie hole.  

Basically, if you have never suffered through a debilitating depression, you JUST don't get an opinion. 

You just don't get to ask questions.  You just don't get to pass judgement.  You just don't get to. Period.  End of story. 

Here's the thing: I will show humility here because authentic is all I can ever be.  Even I, who have suffered with depression since I was 15 have been known to pass judgement on those around me who are depressed.  Why you ask?  Because when I'm not in the throes of a depression it simply does NOT make sense.  It is in those moments that I understand why it doesn't compute to those of you whose brains are not wired this way.  The reason it makes so much sense to me now is because I am neck deep in yet another bout of wrestling with my demons.  I want to throw myself off the cliff and quit.  I feel like I can't go on another day.  I have no will to live.  I just cant. So right now, I get it because I am living it.  

For those of you who can't understand it, you don't have to.  Thank GOD you don't.  All you have to do is love us and be there for us.  Silently.  Unconditionally.  Maybe with chocolate.  But for the love of God, don't take it personal.  Don't ask why.  Don't try to fix it, or fix us, or assume it's you. It's not you. It's not us. It's depression. It JUST is what it is and it will pass.  And then damn if it will eventually be back again.  It's like the rising of the tide, the setting of the sun.  It's depression, it's how we are wired and it's not our faults.  We can't help it anymore than anyone else can help any other disease or other biological thing about the way they were made.  I'm not going to feel guilty for it ever again, or apologize for it anymore.  I am who I am.  This is me, take it or leave it.  I get depressed.  I fall down, and then I get back up.  I hope and pray I never get so low and so dark that I take my own life.  So far, my record for getting back up is 100%.  

If you know someone who is or has been depressed before and you love them like you say you do, then check in.  I've heard this before: "let us know if it gets bad again" yeah...because I'm going to call when I feel like an unloved orphan who's been outcast like a leper.  Really? Who's being stupid here?  

If you are depressed and you are reading this I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass and say stupid cliche things like "just get help".  You and I both know it ain't ever that easy. Chances are, you've sought help over and over and you are back at what feels like the same damn place but some small part of you knows it's really not because each step is progress, so hang in there for the worst to pass and when you can muster the strength, reach out to the one person who really gets you.  I hope you have a 2 am friend and I hope it's not me cuz I'm in a bad place.  (Just bein real) But if I am...text me.  

If you can call for help, counseling is important.  It has saved my ass.  I joke obviously, because it's my mask. But for real, in all seriousness,  I cherish my therapist. She is in her profession for a reason and for that I am thankful beyond words. If you don't have a counselor and you are depressed, find one.  It could be the difference between life and death. And even though you aren't famous, you will be missed.  You are important.  You do matter.  You have value and you are loved.  It's only your depression making you believe that it's not true and you know it.  

I'm not going to leave links for hotlines and help.  If you are reading this blog, you aren't computer illiterate.  I'm not going to treat you like an idiot.  If there is one thing I hate as a person who suffers with depression it's being treated like I'm mentally handicapped just because I'm depressed. You know how to google.  Get to googling. 

I'm depressed.  It will pass.  I feel a bit better after writing this.  There is Hope.