Depression: How Selfish!

“Mom?”  I turn around and see Hannah standing in the kitchen behind me. She has on her tennis shoes and her long blond hair in a ponytail.  It is a beautiful Saturday and she has finished all her chores.  “Can I ride my bike?”  She asks.  I immediately feel a tug of panic in my chest, but I suppress it.  “Sure.  Just stay in front of the house, so I can keep an eye on you.”  "Okay Moma.", she says as she turns and skips to the front door.  As soon as she is on the porch I walk over to the large picture window and pull up the blinds so I can see outside.  She is getting her bike out of the carport.  Off she goes down the driveway.  I watch her ride back and forth on the dead-end street for a few laps to make sure she will obey my instructions to stay in sight.  Of course she does.  She is a good kid and very patient with her…uhm…overprotective…mom.  I feel the distance between us and my mind is on high alert, but again I suppress the urge to call her in, and go back to cleaning house. 

I unload a few items out of the dishwasher and gather dirty laundry from her room.  I start to walk back through the house and stop to check on her through the window.  I can’t immediately see her and my heart starts to pound in my ears. Suddenly I see her.  A dirty white truck is pulling up to her.  She stops her bike, and in typical Hannah fashion talks in a friendly manner to the man inside.  She shakes her head and looks behind her when he points to the field.  What is he saying to her?  She puts her bike down and walks around the corner of the church out of my sight as if she is looking for something.  He opens the door and walks toward her.  She turns to face him, but just as she does he grabs her around her chest and covers her mouth.  I see the fear in her eyes.  I see that moment when all her innocence and trust turns to shear panic.  He shoves her in the truck, throws it in drive, and squeals away.  She is gone.  I start to run after the truck...What will happen to her? Will he rape her?  Will he kill her slowly?  Is she screaming for me?  I can hear her screaming, “Moma, help me!  Please!” I open my eyes. The shirt in my hand is shaking. I am nauseated and I can’t get air into my lungs. I take a deep breath, but it’s like the lower lobes of my lungs won’t fill up completely.  The band around my chest is tight. My stomach cramps and my hands are slimy from sweat. I drop the shirt on the couch and take a step towards the door as she pedals back into my sight.  I stop and take a deep breath, and for the first time it feels like air reaches the deepest parts of my lungs. My pounding heart slows just a bit.  I still feel like I might throw up.  I push the door open and she looks up at me questioning what I might need. I quickly make up a reason to stop her and talk to her for a minute. She straddles her bike while we have our brief discussion and once again pushes off to enjoy her afternoon as I return to the house reminding myself how silly I must be. 

I have lived through James’ and Hannah’s deaths hundreds of times over the years in my mind.  To be honest, my anxiety is much better managed  than it has been in the past.  Anxiety once kept me up at night imagining the worst possible scenarios from simple needed dental work to what will James and Hannah do when I die from breast cancer like my mom did.   I hate this about myself.  I have an anxiety disorder.  To be very honest this is coupled with an on again off again depression.  Some days I can wake up and the thought of facing the simplest challenges seems impossible.  I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to participate in life.  This feeling is not based off of any changing variable in my life.  My life is, as I have previously stated in another blog, perfect to me.  I have a loving Christian husband, a perfectly healthy intelligent kind caring daughter.  I live an abundant life. I do not need, nor really want, for a single thing. Most importantly, I am a saved Christian person, who has a close personal walk with God. I acknowledge God’s power and presence in my life.  I know that he is ultimately in control.  I believe in him and I pray to him daily…multiple times a day to be honest.  I give him my life fully.  I want him in charge. I want his will to be done even if I don’t comprehend it.  But, I still worry. 

I’m going to take this moment to give some well-meaning Christians out there some advice.  Telling a person with anxiety or depression that God is in control is like telling an alcoholic that drinking is a sin and it is bad for them.  We know already. Yep. Really. We do!  I know how many times God tells us in the bible to be still and not worry.  I know that despite all the “silly worrying” that I have absolutely no control over anything that God has planned for me. What will be…will indeed be.  I know! For the most part there is no need to remind someone with anxiety or depression of this fact.  They. Know.   Often times these loving reminders just cause more anxiety and guilt.  I mean he is God.  Why can't I trust him.  Am I not a good Christian?  Am I really not saved if I don’t have this constant peace all the real Christians have?  I can’t tell you how many times I have cried out to God to take away my anxiety and depression.  I have prayed prayers for trust in him.  God and I...well... we have had many talks about my anxiety, way before you had the bright idea that I just need to “trust in him”.  Promise.  That may sound harsh, but I just want everyone to understand that it is really not a choice to be this way.  You should all know how much I believe in self-empowerment. I believe in taking charge and being in control of healthy choices.  The only choice I have in the matter of anxiety and depression is to use the tools given to me to live a healthy full life despite it. Also, please know that I understand, sometimes as Christians "trust in him" is just the most comforting thing we know to say to someone when there is nothing else to say. I am guilt of this too. But when dealing with an ongoing issue like anxiety the choice to trust is just not that simple.

Depression is different than anxiety for me.  My anxiety is present daily.  Depression comes and goes. I may wake up in the morning and just be off a little.  When I was younger I didn’t even have the self-awareness to realize when a bout of depression was about to hit. Now I can identify those feelings better. In my personal experience depression feels like slipping and falling in slow motion.  Despite how hard I try I can't stop it and I can’t get my balance to stand back up. My body will feel physically tired and my mind just a little foggy.  There is a loss of excitement and anticipation about things to come that day.  I will go through the motions of getting ready, cooking breakfast, smiling and joking with Hannah and James, but inside I will feel like I could just cry at any moment. I recall the sad moments from my past easier and I tend to dwell on them more.  It is selfish because during this time I tend to feel sorrier for myself due to all the horrible things that happened to me in my life. I recount them and the anger and sadness seeps back into my heart momentarily.  The ride to work will seem overly quiet and, despite the sunshine, the world outside my windshield will seem just a little overcast. People that I interact with would never know that I am struggling with anything.  I continue on this path... Sometimes for a few days, sometimes a few weeks, and sometimes it hangs around for months.  It doesn’t stop me from living. I am still present and find enjoyment in life…I’m just engaged in an internal battle to not let it grab me and pull me under.  That happened in my younger years, and it was something that even I can’t put on paper.  At this moment I can’t articulate how it felt to let depression momentarily win.  Maybe a future blog post... 

People who don’t know me well, would never dream that I suffer from depression. There are a handful of people who KNOW me and I trust deeply.  They are the ones who typically see me during these moments, and softly say, “You okay?” because they can tell I am not truly myself.  I hide it very well.  I hide it for the same reason others with depression hide it.  There is a stigma and it makes others uncomfortable around you.  A lot of people feel like you can and should control your emotions.  You know... suck it up and deal with life.  Those are the same people who feel like alcoholics should just not put themselves in the  situation that leads to drinking and fat people need to push away from the table.  Well, I'm not sure if anything I can say here will change that view.  I can say that I can't comprehend why an alcoholic needs a drink.  I don’t struggle with it, so it easy for me to judge.  I can't know what everyone struggles with, but I know that most everyone has something.  Just remember to be kind and use some empathy.  Before you throw a blanket statement out there about depression or suicide take a moment to sit down with someone and understand their mind and their heart.  I have read some really nasty comments about the suicide of Robin Williams.  No one chooses depression and no one with a healthy mind chooses suicide.  It may seem selfish to you that someone would be sick enough to take their own life without regard to their family's feelings, but most people who have attempted suicide and did not succeed will tell you that they honestly thought their family and the world would be better in general without them here on Earth.  It is a mindset that you possibly can't understand, but should speak gently about unless you do understand it.

Now most of my friends and acquaintances know about my anxiety.  Most chalk it up to being a helicopter mom, which I am, and slightly OCD...which I am!  Being an OCD helicopter mom is easier than having anxiety disorder.  It is not uncomfortable for people.  A few jokes can be made about how I clean too much and I watch over Hannah a little too close.  People often envy the energy that my anxiety requires.  You see...a person with a busy mind must stay busy, hence the really clean house.   If I am scrubbing base boards and making tortillas from scratch I am not imaging my husband’s untimely death and how I would tell our daughter he is never coming home. I don’t have to imagine what it would be like to sleep in our bed without him, and so on.  I assume you understand what I am saying here.  It is a coping mechanism.  I suppose it is healthy enough to be a busy body. I haven't caused harm to my family yet outside of some additional calories from my homemade baked goodies.

It took many years for me to fully understand my anxiety and depression, many more to get a somewhat healthy handle on both of them, and even more to realize that they are just a part of who I am.  For better or worse I will always struggle with them.  Some days are better than others, but I refuse to let them dictate my life.  I will do my best to live in the present and make good choices to ensure they don’t  interfere with this perfect little life of mine.  I say they are part of the perfection.  After all I wouldn’t be who I am today without them and lets face it...I am a darn good mom and wife.  I'm not too shabby at my career either.  It's just yet another choice I make to let my uniqueness make me a better person.  Trust me I don’t feel this positive every second of everyday, but I am the majority of the time and that will just have to be enough.

If you suffer from depression please know that you are not alone.  Know that you are not broken or less of a person.  Know that this world is a better place because you are in it.  Know that someone is happier and whole because you are a part of their life. Don’t be afraid to admit that something is not right and seek help for it.  It is simply a small piece of the bigger part that makes you who you are.  You can use your life and your struggle to better yourself and shine a light on someone else in the darkness.  God intended for us to use our testimony.  He loves you even when you think you should be "better" and "trust him".  He made you just how you are and he has equipped you to overcome and reach out. That is the definition of evangelism. Turn something you think is awful into something powerful.  You do have a say in all this.