180 Degrees

It's amazing how fast situations and conditions can be changed by God within one week. 

One week ago my staff account was in dire straits. 
I wanted to go on the vision trip to keep STINT doors open, but it felt like they were slamming shut fast.
I was raising support in hope that maybe just maybe....

All the while, the depression came and went unexpectedly like a fog descending on my consciousness leaving me incapacitated as a person.  It took all my efforts to think straight.

Now, my account is nice and healthy for the most part anyways, and mentally I'm stabilizing and steadily regaining my health.

The fog of depression is lifting quickly.
I feel hope and joy again.
Life feels full and meaningful once more.
And what a relief that is.

Thank You God for meds.
 

I wish I could say that as soon as I started popping my meds, things started to look up completely.  Granted the spiraling catastrophic thought patterns have stopped, but some other symptoms continue to linger.  It does take a full two weeks for everything to fully kick in after all.

Some days are bearable and some days are still bad.

Like today.

My first thoughts were "Lord God, help," as I awoke to the day, and to the sensation of falling apart on the inside.  I managed to get out of bed to check some pressing work emails, but promptly went back to bed because I felt like I couldn't hold myself together.  There I stayed for another 3 hours, willing myself to sleep though I was not tired so I didn't have to deal with the depression. 

I went for a run later, but the despair and hopelessness that I felt still did not lift.

Then mid-afternoon it was like someone flipped a switch, and I felt like myself again.  

Depression, it baffles me.

A New Perspective

S.B. blew my mind today when we met up for coffee or in my case hot chocolate.

I was sharing with her how my biggest fear about moving overseas was that I'd spiral into depression, crash, and then burn out. I told her that it'd be one thing to be lonely and homesick, but it'd be another to lose my marbles.

But she pointed out that my depression is caused by a chemical imbalance.
That it's not mental or spiritual issues that I need to work through. It's just chemicals.
That as long as I had my meds I'd be ok.
That perhaps this was God's way of saying "I have your worst fears covered way ahead of time"?
That perhaps this was a blessing instead of a hindrance.
That perhaps this was God giving the all-clear.

The Valley of Vision

Lord, High and Holy, meek and lowly,
Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;
hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox
that the way down is the way up
that to be low is to be high,
that the broken heart is the healed heart,
that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
that to have nothing is to possess all,
that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
that to give is to receive,
that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,
and the deeper the wells the brighter thy stars shine;

Let me find thy light in my darkness,
thy life in my death,
thy joy in my sorrow,
thy grace in my sin,
thy riches in my poverty,
thy glory in my valley.

-from The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions

She's Back

Oh the irony of ironies, that the very day I spoke at our weekly meeting on the topic of Meaning would be the same day that my therapist and I concluded that my struggle with depression- which manifests itself in my life as a pervading sense of immense meaninglessness, would probably be a lifelong thing since it seemed to be a chemical imbalance.

She's back.  My depression that is.

It's been 3 months since I weaned off meds.
3 months for everything to leave my system.
3 months for my body to be on its own, and not making it.
3 months for her to come back.

I didn't want to admit it for many, many reasons, but all the symptoms started to show up.
The flatness and the heaviness of the soul.
The spiralling catastrophic thought patterns, the dread, the anxiety.
The sinking feeling.

I cried, and cried, and cried, and am still crying.
At one point, in a bathroom stall (again) because even whilst grieving I couldn't resist a good cliche.  Girl, crying in a bathroom stall.
Cue cheesy music.

I cried because I felt and still feel like I've failed God.
That I didn't try hard enough to love Him enough.
That I didn't try hard enough to root out my idols.
Even though I know this is not true at all.


I cried because of oh the stigma, stigma, STIGMA,
which I only partially dealt with since I had believed  my depression was only brought on by my burnout and not a lasting thing.
Especially since I'm back on meds.

I cried because of lingering heartache that was exacerbated by depression.

I cried because I didn't want to go back to that darkness of the soul.

I grieved for "normalcy" or "wholeness" or  whatever semblance I had of it.

And so I continue to fluctuate between grief and acceptance- that this is my chance to bring Him glory by demonstrating my faith in a God who works for the good of those who love Him, in all things- even depression.

Then of course there's my sense of humour going: at least you weren't diagnosed with a terminal illness...yet.