I have major depression. And a few other not so fun little, well, I’ll just call them quirks. Some days are really great. I am an awesome mama, an awesome wife. I have everything together and I am on fire. Other days, most days, I feel like I’m slowly drowning, sinking, struggling to hang on and be present and be a good mama and not just go curl up in bed and sleep until it’s over.
I don’t write about it much. And why not? Because I know some family and friends I have to see in person read the blog occasionally, and maybe I’m a little ashamed and embarrassed. What could I say? What could anyone else say? Either way, it’s not a comfortable subject and not really something I feel like broadcasting even when I am in the midst of a really hard day. If you ask me, I’ll tell you I’m fine, I’m good. Just really busy. really tired. It’s not that I can’t talk about it; I just don’t want to talk about it or think about it or get into it with anybody other than my husband.
Why am I writing about it now? I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe because… maybe because it might help someone else out there. Maybe because, selfishly, it helps me clear my head and my thoughts and pull myself back up and into the right frame of mind. I just feel like it today and that’s all there is to it.
Sometimes it’s hard to see the light. Hard to realise that in just a few (or so) hours my husband will come home to help me out and I’ll be able to breathe again. When it’s just me, and the chores seem never ending, the laundry pile keeps rising higher and higher, the milk has been spilt for the eleven millionth time that day, and every one wants something to eat half an hour ago oh and could you wash this item of clothing I’ve worn for approximately 0.2 seconds? it’s just hard. And not fun.
I want to choose to see the happy points in my day, be thankful for them, praise God for the grace he shows me through them. These little moments that make my heart skip a beat that I forget to pause and breathe in and say thank you for. I try and fail and so I’m trying again. Because it’s worth it.
Playing peek-a-boo with a baby who just learn how to say (in her own sweet baby talk way) I love you. Smelling the scent of newly bloomed honeysuckle vine growing allover my deck. The way the grass and random plants are starting to creep their way through my tumble-down gate. A soft white kitten curled up on my clean white comforter.