I made a goal to blog more forever ago, but I continually put it off because I kept envisioned my next post as something spectacular. I then continued putting off blogging because I also imagined my next post as being full of life and insight.
I wanted beauty!
I wanted uplifting and heartwarming!
I wanted awe and peace of mind, Dang it!
The thing is, my life wasn't feeling very uplifting. So I couldn't post anything.
I even tried coming up with contrived projects or themes to post.
This month I had this mini project (“14 Valentine’s Day themed outfits”) where, starting February 1st up till Valentine’s Day I wore red and pink ensembles covered in hearts and roses.
While it did become something nice to focus on, my emotions refused to conform to the happy, cutie vibe I was going for. I tried so FREAKING hard to not feel the way I did and then, when nothing changed, felt like I must not be trying hard enough. Which just made me feel worse.
In my experience, this is what depression is: a spinning wheel of sadness.
I hate myself.
I logically know that I shouldn't hate myself.
Now I’m mad that I hate myself.
So. . .
Now I hate myself even more.
I hate that I hate myself!
And they do.
So. Very. Often.
So, here I am. Just being honest.
I wanted to post the Valentine’s Day Outfits (and I like to think that I still will), but I found it hard to feel right about it. Mainly because I felt like a failed a couple of the mornings and woke up sad rather than the ray of love and sunshine that I was suppose to be. (How dare I).
So I started hating the whole thing. Every outfit was wrong. I was wrong. It was not the heartwarming project I wanted it to be so badly! And maybe I could have dressed it up that way somehow (which I seriously contemplated), but I would have known and I would have hated it even more for the big fat LIE it would have been.
It would have been one more:
The first couple weeks of the semester, I called my mom from a dark room in the back of Church. I had just driven a bunch of lovely chatty ladies to the singles activity there. I only sat looking at all those people for about 2 minutes; could only listen to two or three people ask me how I was before I quickly slipped out into that dark Sunday school classroom.
I sat there crying silently.
Finally called my mom and told her the truth: everything was fine, but I didn't feel fine.
“I feel crazy”, I told her.
“I just have to tell someone, because I feel like I’m really going crazy.Everything is alright, but I don’t feel alright. I know I should, but I don’t! And that makes me feel crazy! And every time someone asks me how I feel I tell them “I’m fine”, but I’m not and I feel like I’m going crazy. I just had to tell someone, because I feel like I’m going crazy.”
My crying at this point was pitiful sobbing.
And here I’d like to interject that I have a most wonderful and beautiful mother. She listened and told me she loved me. She just let me tell her how I felt and that really helped.
I love her so very much.
God has blessed me with her.
God has blessed me with so much.
I hate it.
This is the point where I start recognizing that I’m hitting a low, when realizing people love me and that my life is beautiful and blessed makes me feel even worse. This is the pits of despair. I should be happy. . .
So . . . do I have point?
There are times when solution come easy and times when I feel like I have rediscover my depression every day and find a new way to just deal with it. It seems that I am stuck in the latter.
I don’t really see the end; I thought it’d come quicker than this, but It hasn't.
I hold to the hope that it will.
I will try and love the days (or even small minutes) that are great.
- Try to remind myself to be sane.
“I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out…”
- Sam, Sleepless in Seattle.
(Movies are an optional and recommended part of the healing process by the way.)
And that’s honestly where I am at right now.