Tackle and Tampons

In sixth grade my class spent a lot of time playing football on the playground. Our teacher supervised and almost insisted we take part. So at the age of twelve I learned to play a mean game of football.

One day at school I wasn’t feeling my best, a little puny because I had gotten “my monthly friend” as some of the mothers of the 1960’s and 70’s liked to call “it”.  In no way did I associate it with friendship. At  twelve  I had to learn to deal with a whole new lifestyle for one week out of every month. Dresses, skirts or pants with long tops were my wardrobe because I wasn’t allowed to wear tampons.  My only alternative was the bulky pads.  The pads were so big I was certain they could be spotted from a mile away if anybody walked behind me in the hall.  I never really knew if my attempt to camouflage was successful but after that day it didn't really matter anyway.

Although I didn't feel well, I gave into peer pressure and joined the game. Little did I know there would be an unexpected twist put on the game that day. The teacher whom I loved, up until that day, decided we’d play tackle because the boys had begged for so long. The game was on but with the stipulation that we would not be rough and if anyone got hurt the game would be over.

Our class was split and the two teams went head to head.  When my team was on the offense someone threw a pass and I caught it. I was wearing pants that day so I ran pretty fast and free. However out of nowhere a guy from the other team tackled me! Down we went, I fumbled the ball, the other team got it and scored a touchdown. As bad as that was, nothing compared to the feeling of humiliation I felt when the guy who tackled me said out loud, “Hey Julie, what was that big, fat thing between your legs?” Apparently his hand ended up between my legs when he tackled me.

I don’t recall my answer.  But the incident is engraved on my mind to this day and that's a good sign it traumatized me in some way.

I went home that afternoon and begged my mom for tampons. She finally obliged.

This written for a prompt from The Red Dress Club. Take us back to an embarrassing moment in your life. Did someone embarrass you, your parents perhaps? Or did you bring it upon  yourself?Are you still embarrassed or can you laugh at it now?

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• Too Young for Tampons? (everydayhealth.com)

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?