This part is really hard for me to write about for some reason. I feel so incredibly weak and pitiful admitting some of this. I despise appearing that way, and I really despise being that way. This is not a moment where I need someone to tell me how wonderful I am. How I really am stronger because of all of this. Because simply--that is not true.
I really am broken. I really am shattered. And I have absolutely no hope in myself. I am so broken that all of this pitiful depression is just the very tip of the iceberg. It is worse than you think it is, and it is worse than I think it is.
But I know one thing: Because of Jesus’ finished work on the cross, God really does love me. He not only forgives me and overlooks my brokenness, he accepts Christ’s righteousness as mine.
I am preaching now because I need to be preached to. It is the only thing that keeps me from falling apart some days.
So here’s what it felt like at this point in the story:
I really struggled with the medicine thing. I have always thought that if people struggled with depression or anxiety, they could will themselves out of it. I thought that there was some way to pull myself up by my bootstraps, pray enough, or just be happy. I was wrong. I tried so hard. Those of you who have struggled with depression or anxiety or both know what I’m talking about--you know it’s ridiculous, you know that you shouldn’t be wallowing, you know that there’s more to life, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore. You suddenly have no control over your feelings and you suddenly cannot will yourself into contentment anymore. It is scary. I had nightmares every night that were dark and disturbing. I had mornings where the only reason I got out of bed was because I knew Braden would be in bad shape without me. I felt alone even though I had friends and family around.
So with the support of friends and family, I asked my doctor for medication. I told him about the nightmares and the anxiety and it did not take much before he gave me a little smile and confirmed that I was struggling with post-partum depression.
I joined the crazies! I did. I left with a prescription for some anti-anxiety/anti-depression medication, and I took that stuff. And I was better for it. I slowly became myself again. I could give of myself to those around me again. I actually wanted to be with people again. And Jed and I—we started doing much better. I was pleasantly surprised that I did not feel extremely happy or different. I just felt normal. I could handle a difficult conversation or argument, and I didn’t have to hide after 10 minutes of being around people.
Tired of talking about it for now, so I’ll be writing a few light hearted blogs before I get back into the very serious and depressing stories.