I was sitting in the Blazer Sunday afternoon after the morning worship service when Ben pulled up beside us. “So you’re here”, he asked, “So you’re feeling well enough to come tonight?”
I was, but he had a point. My mornings have become a game of “Will she or won’t she get out of bed?” and it’s anybody’s guess anymore whether or not I’ll show up to church.
It’s not that I don’t like work, although some days are more fun than others. It’s not that I don’t like church, although sometimes I go out of duty, not desire. It’s just that the clouds are hanging around again and it’s so much easier to stay in bed and not move than it is to get up and think and breathe and try and do something…anything until I can sink into my pillow again.
I wasn’t always this way. Apparently I was a pretty happy child. I remember eating ice cream, climbing trees, turning my bookshelf into a Barbie castle (which I misspelled as “catsle”). I would sing any song from the Annie soundtrack at the drop of a hat and I just knew that I was going to grow up to be a princess.
Then came the ’90’s. Then came depression. My kind is hard to explain to people. I’m getting more honest about things, such as the fact that I’m not always in bed with a migraine, but it’s still hard for my sphere to understand.
I read. I go out to eat. I teach a class of bright, squirmy kids. I love my husband and I still tend to burst into song at the drop of a hat.
I should be happy.
And I am, most of the time.
But every now and then, the clouds come back. My freshman year of college was a hard one for me. I spent most of the first semester in a daze. Depression can make it hard to think, you know. Still, I got good enough grades and had good enough friends.
By the last semester of my senior year, I was leaving work early to go back to the dorm and sleep. I was responsible enough. I made up the hours that I missed, but the clouds were still there.
And they are here now. I’ve done the reading. I know the causes. But knowing and doing are, in my case at least, two different things. Still, it’s hard for people to understand. This isn’t something I can just overcome by willpower. Getting out of bed and going to work is helpful, yes, but it’s only a step. By the time the UPS truck arrives and it’s time to close up, I’m often so tired I’m grateful for the chance to sleep on the hour ride home.
And yes, I’ve read the articles extoling a “Fake it ’til you make it” philosophy. I believe in that mindset to a certain extent. Why be a rude nasty person when it is so much nicer to greet people with a smile and a “Have a nice day”?
So I smile. And (for the most part) I remember to shower. And I play with my nieces and cuddle my cats and sing in the choir.
But every now and then the circle rolls back around to “time for clouds”. I can’t explain what I’m thinking when that happens. I can’t tell you why I’m experiencing more than just “the blues” or why I want to rip all the well meaning tongues out of well meaning heads and set fire to every self help book I see. I can’t tell you why the migraines get worse (they are real…I’m not devious enough to make them up, though sometimes I do exaggerate their severity) or why every time someone extols me to just “get over it” I want to bash their head in with a hammer (did I mention that sometimes depression straddles a line into quick flashes of anger?).
All I can tell you is to hold on. I’m cyclical. It will pass and I will be back to church, back to class, back to work. I’ll be smiling. I’ll be singing. I’ll be grateful to you for loving me, warts and all.
But right now, in this moment, I can’t do any of those things. And if I cling to my pillow in the morning or fall asleep in the car on the way to work, I beg your indulgence. I’m trying. I know it’s not my best. I know I’m not there yet.
But I also know that some day–I will be.