Seeking Help

 Depression and Seeking Help

I distinctly remember an extraordinarily difficult moment in my life.  

Ella had been in the NICU for more than three months.  During the first few we had so much tangible support and I had made it through saving me and saving her but we were now at a day-in, day-out tedium point of the journey.

People were still caring and praying and there was a tremendous influx of gifts, well-wishes and service leading up to the holidays.  But then people turned into their own homes for those special times, as they well should have.   Or maybe I just lost the distraction of the holidays.  I'm not sure.  January brought a post-holiday slump like nothing I had ever seen. 

What I do know was that I was in the middle of doctors in one town trying to diagnose my autoimmune disorder while my baby was in a NICU two hours away and things I had been handling seemed too exhausting.  Like getting dressed.  And months of pumping that dang breast milk every few hours.  Mostly I just felt numb and it had been getting progressively worse.  The very worst part of all was that I simply couldn't recognize the Spirit, at least not how I was used to, so I figured maybe I had disappointed God one time too many.  

But at this particular moment I was lying on my bed at home and watched the news break the devastating story of Indianapolis Colt's coach, Tony Dungy's young son's suicide.  George commented on the deep loss of potential and wondered aloud what could have been going through his mind.  

"Maybe he just couldn't imagine how he could possibly survive another day that felt like this one.  Maybe it was the only forward step he could see."

George looked at me closely and called my doctor, who is also my close friend.  And then he led me to the car and drove me to her office.

I remember telling her I would try to exercise more as she looked at my ankles so swollen I couldn't tie my shoes.  I remember pleading with her not to give me "crazy pills" but that I would try harder.  I felt like a huge, numb failure.

I hate depending on medicine because it makes me feel out of control.  And it's a bit (a big bit) of a pride thing for me.  So the Lord has given me a lifetime weakness that helps me keep it in check.  But that day I wasn't feeling that.

I agreed to try the extra help for a set time period of a few months. For my kids. I didn't care about me just then.  

There was no magical and immediate healing. But slowly I could breathe just a bit easier.  The fog lifted ever so slightly.  And with each bit of light that filtered in I found pieces of me to accept, if not love yet.  I saw God's hand.  I kept doing the things I knew had brought peace and hope in the past, and found it was not hypocritical at all to do the parts I knew while waiting for the light to come back.   I was fortunate that I only had a small taste of what many go through their whole lives.

As it turned out, I didn't need the medication forever but I would have been okay if I had. 

I am incredibly fortunate to have a support system that many don't.  My family and friends were there if I needed to turn to them more.  But I genuinely couldn't imagine mining any more energy from my body and soul to explain and respond to yet another layer of our situation and still having anything left. So we carefully and prayerfully selected a team of three for that part.  My husband, my doctor and one local friend.  It was an inspired decision for me for that period. 

I would love to say and then it ended and depression never reared it's ugly head again.  But that's false as my family could attest.  It comes in cycles and waves but we are better at recognizing and treating it.  

I learned it was okay to not be okay.  I learned that many, in fact most,  wouldn't understand and respond perfectly.  But how can you respond perfectly to something so unique and ever-changing? I learned that blaming others served little purpose beyond further ostracizing me from the professional help I really needed. If it was their fault, then it wasn't something in me that needed fixed so why seek help? I sure was wrong on that one! 

Some of you may read this and think, "But I didn't know.  I would have.....".  Some of you may read this and say "no wonder....".  Some of you may read this and think, "yeah, I called that!"  

No matter which you were,  know that hundreds of people helped in subtle little ways that added up.  So please no guilt! A smile.  A hug.  Prayers and more prayers.  Forgiveness and grace when I was prickly.  And forgiving again.  Simple testimonies.  Sharing your own difficulties and letting me still serve.  Doing a load of dishes.  Listening.  Accepting and magnifying the faith I was able to show.  And simply loving me exactly where I was.  We don't need all the details to do that!

Psalm 34:5 teaches us beautifully that we can shine His light on even our darkness and don't need to be ashamed.

"They looked unto him, and were lightened: and their faces were not ashamed."

If my shining light on my own struggles helps even one more person think that maybe they are okay too, I'm okay with taking that risk. 

As Jane Clayson Johnson so eloquently wrote in Silent Souls Weeping, "I envision a day, coming soon, when we will visit at the bedsides of those in mental-health facilities as easily as in the cancer wing of the hospital. And we can carry with us into the spiritually dark realm of depression a testimony that there is no judgment and no cause for shame. The Lord's love encompasses this ailment, and so does ours."

Seek professional as well as spiritual help.  Hold onto hope.  And know you aren't alone. ❤️