I burned a batch of cookies today

I burned a batch of cookies today. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. It shouldn’t have even mattered at all. I’ve never been good at making cookies. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times in my 7+ years of marriage that I’ve not burned the cookies. I hate baking. I hate cooking. I hate any form of anything that requires mixing and then eating. I only do it because that’s what I feel I must do as a stay-at-home mom. Cooking, baking, making treats are all part of the job description, right?! That’s what I need to do. Now that is what I’m good at –doing the things I feel I need to, whether they be miserable, hard, or even torturous.

Maybe today’s failed cookie attempt crushed me because I’m sick, and maybe it was for entirely different reasons. I really am sick though. My whole family is. It’s a nasty summer cold, and it’s one of those colds that makes you stuffed up with a headache and a fever and it makes your days blur into your nights, and your dreams so hazy that you wake up unsure if they actually happened or if they were pretend. I hate these kinds of colds. When I’m sick like this, I tend to dream the horrible types of dreams that leave me waking every few hours covered in sweat and shaking in fear. I’ve been up the last few nights so often between the kids and Caleb that I just feel worn out, tattered, and exhausted. I’m sure that’s contributing to the mood, but in all honesty, there have been a lot of lows lately anyways, and those are probably playing their part as well.

I’ve been doing everything as right as I possibly can in terms of managing my depression. Despite my attempts, something hasn’t been quite right the past several weeks.  Out of nowhere the depression hits like a wave, and it doesn’t matter if I’m ready for it. Down, down, down it drags me until I don’t think I will ever be able to breathe again. I imagine that helpless state is a lot like what someone feels when they’re snagged by a riptide. You can fight for your life, kicking, screaming, thrashing…. But in the end, you are at the mercy of something beyond your own control, and it’s terrifying. No matter how many times you’ve conquered it, it still comes back full-fury, as if it exists for the sole purpose of destroying you. And little by little, you start to give up hope that you can overcome.

Yesterday I wrote another post that perhaps I’ll share someday. For now, it’s hidden away in some corner of my computer. It’s one of those that puts me in a very vulnerable place, and I just don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet. It’s hard for me to talk about the deepest, darkest parts of myself. It’s always been that way. It hasn’t gotten any easier over time, but it has been surprising for me to see that I do my best writing when I’m struggling, and the writing process leaves me with a glimmer of hope. While I’m in the deep, turbulent waters of my own heartache, it’s like a small ray of sunshine somehow manages to reach to me. For a second -- a mere heartbeat of time --, every fiber of my being tells me that I will make it through – that somewhere out there, someone else knows exactly what I’m going though, and maybe they just needed to hear it, too.

Depression is difficult to talk about because I know many people have never had to fight that battle, and perhaps they don’t even view it as one that is thrust upon a person without choice. I know that a lot of people think it’s a choice and if we could just snap ourselves out of it and quit being miserable, we’d be fine. Once upon a time, I believed that, too. I thought that if I just put on a smile enough times, if I just tried harder, If I just discounted and numbed every single feeling inside of me, I could handle it. I thought that it was something I could drive out of my life permanently if I just stopped wallowing my life away. But you know what changed for me? One day I realized that it is not just parts of my life or certain, difficult things that have brought on the misery. Sometimes I will have everything I need in life, but yet, I don’t feel a thing. I could be in the most beautiful place on this planet (which anyone in their right mind would choose to enjoy), and yet still be miserable. That right there is beyond my control. I do not and cannot choose when to be miserable. It’s not possible. I wish it was though, so I could just reach out and have the sweet relief I long for.

Two days ago, I sat in an appointment with my psychiatrist. All I could really say is that lately, for no reason at all, I don’t feel like my life is worth living. Have you ever felt that way? Can you imagine that it’s easy to have to admit that? I would give up any worldly possession I own if I could make sure I never felt that way again, but I can’t. I’m helpless to my biology. I’m helpless to the waves of depression that continually threaten to overcome me. I could travel the world, but I’d always be running from something within me. My depression can’t be controlled, and I say with every ounce of strength that I have, that any and all of us who deal with it would never experience it again if it were within our power to do so.

It’s hard for me to talk about this so openly. I have three beautiful children and a husband who loves me, provides for me, and supports my dreams. How could I ever feel like that’s not enough – that that’s not worth living for??? When someone is in the midst of depression, no amount of reason, logic, or debate can get through to them. Do you want to know what will? Do you want to know the secret?

Compassion. Sympathy. Mercy. Support.

I think a lot of people fear that if they sympathize with someone who is depressed, that person will keep acting that way because they think it gets them attention. But the thing is, when has it ever harmed someone to show a little kindness even when prompted by the wrong thing? If a child is fake-crying because they want their parents’ attention, is the appropriate response to tell them you’re not going to listen when they cry at all now? No, definitely not! You’d look at the core problem of them wanting your attention, and you would mercifully answer that need. If a child is crying because they’re lost and scared on the street, would you pass them by without showing them mercy? No! You would help them, and that is all anyone ever needs. Help. Comfort. Love. 

Trying to persuade someone out of depression only results in them feeling isolated, misunderstood, and broken. It won’t work as intended – it can’t. The only thing that will work is letting them know that you are there for them, that you would take it away if you could, and that they are so strong each and every time they overcome.

Sure – I think that at one time or another, all of us have reached a point where perhaps we wallowed when we didn’t need to or we gave up before we should have quit trying. That kind of stuff is human nature and perhaps some of us do it more than we should. But just because some people abuse the system, does that mean we should all abandon it as well? Well, I sure hope not. I’m not sure where I’d be if that was the case. There’s something meaningful about fighting a battle of any kind and knowing that you have at least one friend by your side during it. I think depression is like that. Even when we’re appearing crazy or our friends can’t understand where we’re coming from, if they don’t leave us to fight it alone, we will always succeed. They’re there, supporting us, lifting us when we can’t lift ourselves any longer, and they help us do those hard things that we need to do, even when we don’t want to. On days when the nothingness of depression encircles me and I feel hopelessly alone, my kids help me find a reason to get up (even if it's just for cooking, which I hate!). I may not always thank my husband for the many times he comes looking for me just to check on me during a tough day, but I recognize it and know that he's reaching out in love. He never lets me handle it alone and is always supportive, even if he doesn't always understand what I'm dealing with. 

In my personal battle against depression, medication was the biggest game changer for me and is the one and only thing that has successfully and extensively combated my depression. The most frustrating thing for me the past couple of weeks was that I was doing everything right and taking my medication as prescribed, and the depression shouldn’t have been happening at all, but it was. Although my depressive episodes still come when they want to and tend to show up whenever things get really tough, life is generally much easier to bear when I’m on medication. I once heard someone say that if taking a little pill a day was all it took to be happy, then why not do it??? That’s how I feel. I meant it when I said I’d give up any earth possession to not feel depression again. Is that all I have to give up, then? Simply spend some money for a doctor and a prescription? Yes, apparently that’s all it is. In the grand scheme of things I realize it is very little to do, and I’m capable and willing of doing just that much.

I learned at my appointment that we need to up my meds again to get to the right level for optimal control of my moods. There was an easy explanation for why I’ve been struggling, and thankfully, it’s an easy fix, and one that Caleb supports me in. Taking that time and effort (and money) to get help for depression is the way to solve my own issue and it’s a sacrifice both Caleb and I are willing to make to be the happy person I want to be. Caleb always reminds me about taking my meds if I’ve forgotten. He’s never once made me feel broken, stupid, or fake for dealing with depression or for going on meds for it. That loving and caring support means the world to me. It’s going to take a couple weeks before things make a good turn around and my mood are stable again, but in the meantime, I’ll just be here. If you see me looking sad, go ahead, throw a smile my way. I’m sure it will mean the world to me.  I’ll be here fighting through the tough days, breathing in the good days, and being grateful for each day, both good and bad.

Love,

Rebecca