The fight we fight alone.
For months I’ve fought my mind. Depression pushes hard, and I failed to push back. I fell and rose. Every week was a battle in inconsistency in living. One day I am a functioning mess, the next, I was a downed mess. Pain didn’t help. It turns out I’ve struggled with a partially torn rotator, osteoarthritis (bone spurs), and an elevated rib wreaking havoc in my shoulder. Three months of fluctuating sleep patterns and moodiness make me impossible.
If I were on the opposite side of myself, I would run. Who needs the fuss of dealing with a mentally-ill basket case? I am no picnic, and I know it. Still, my husband stays; my sons’ stay; my daughter and my grandkids all stay. I know love, and even when I think I am unlovable, there they are, loving me anyway.
Every year it is the same ride on the seasonal depression train. My sadness and fear lies in the possibility that I will board it again and again, and that my autumn future is predictable down to the day and mood.
The scary point is it gets worse every year, and the thoughts that come with it do, too.
I know how to help myself, but it never works. Still, I keep going. Even when I feel so lost and down, I stay focused on making it to the next day. I pull my mask off the shelf, carefully place it upon my face, and greet every face with an acceptable expression. My heart continues to beat, but something cold runs through my veins.
I know I’m not alone. So, if this is similar to your experience, I am sorry. I know your pain and sorrow for the loss you feel during these challenging times. We are unique with similar trials. I am grateful for those who stay, and those who encourage me because they know exactly what I am talking about in this post.
I keep my faith. The new year is almost here, a new decade is upon me. I think I will rest on some new promises and hope in Jesus to make some significant changes in my life. Prayers start now.