Where Is The Happy Me?

The heavy patchwork quilt made of soft cotton lay against my numb body. The colors of bright pink, light olive green, dark evergreen, mauve, and clean crisp white that once stood out to me now seem drab and dull. Colorless. This covering that once brought comfort gives nothing now.

The chuncky chicken salad sandwich with mayo, salt and pepper on the night stand might have made me hungry once upon a time but now only a Big Mac with special sauce, a large order of greasy fries and a large creamy vanilla shake will do. But it will only do temporarily. It won’t be long and I’ll be searching for the Snickers and M & M’s picking out the brown ones, savoring the red, blue and yellow. Never giving the milk chocolate a chance to melt in my hand but only in my mouth.

I need a hot shower. It just takes too much energy for this task. My body feels like it weighs 1000 pounds. At the rate I’m eating I may just get there before long.  I can hardly hold this head full of rocks up off the pillow. My legs drag as I walk to the bathroom, the only place I can carry myself, and only because I have to.

Everything I see around me is lifeless and gray. HD television offers the same old stuff; that stack of books can’t hold my interest, people irritate me. Conversations consist of me shaking my head, as if I’m listening to the mindless chatter that creeps in one ear and out the other. I spend a lot of time pretending to be the happy me.

 The me with the clean smell of Dove soap from a fresh shower. The me that likes a green salad with tomatoes, oranges, red cranberries and candied pecans. The me that loves conversation with friends and a good cup of fresh brewed Maxwell House coffee.  The me that longs for the feel of the pages of a crisp new book in my hands. The me that laughs out loud at the Cosby Show and Andy Griffith. The me that snuggles under the quilt that belonged to my mother and is warmed by the love of it. Where is that me?

~~~~~~~~

Then I utter the words.

Help. Me. God.

In time the thick dark covering that hides me from the world is lifted.

In time.

And I wonder why I didn't ask sooner.




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Depression: The Secret Suffering

This is my weekend link up for The Red Dress Club. It's one of my favorites about depression.

Statistics show 1 in 8 women develop depression sometime in life for various reasons like stress, life experiences, hormones, and believe it or not there are women who actually have a real chemical imbalance because they have very little serotonin surging through the brain... like me.

Those of us who suffer from depression seem to carry with us a stigma that we are weak minded , that our faith is weak, that somehow, some where we have failed and we just “need to suck it up” and get right. It’s much like telling a person with high blood pressure that it’s his/her fault for having the illness.

I have adopted the belief that if I haven’t walked in someone’s shoes I try not to assume I know what they are going through. I just want the same consideration from others. Instead of assuming I have brought depression on by feeling 'sorry for myself' try to be understanding. Instead of telling us that depression is sin, try doing a little internet research and find out for yourself that depression happens to some because of a chemical imbalance. Saying this makes some of us feel embarrassed, ashamed or angry. Even if we do sometimes get depressed because of life experiences, hormones, stress, etc. try giving some love and just listen to how we feel without making us feel like we need to keep our suffering a secret. I dare to say if this hasn't happened to you it will one day.

Yes, there are many times counseling, medication, and exercise and help us move into a more enjoyable life but there are also times we need prayer and a shoulder to lean on instead of judgment.

Depression can improve or go away all together, thank you God, but in the event that it last longer than you think it should, be an encourager for your loved one or friend. Be willing to walk beside her until the dark cloud passes, urge her to get the help she needs instead of suggesting she put on a smile and be thankful for everything she’s got. If looking around at everything she had would cure her she would have done that by now. When someone is truly clinically depressed it doesn’t matter how wonderful life seems on the outside, there’s something on the inside that keeps holding her down. She can’t explain why she feels the way she feels, it’s just dark, gloom, nonfunctioning, barely existing, life.

God intends for me to serve Him and in a full state of depression I can’t do that in a way that is worthy of Him. However, if medication helps me function with a full life of peace and joy I’m thinking He’s okay with it. One day I look forward to going ahead in life without meds. but until then or "if" maybe it doesn't even happen I will live this life to the fullest. And I'll do it with a little help and understanding from my friends and family and a lot of love from my great big God.

It’s time for the secret of depression to come out of the closet. What do you think?