I hurt. I'm so depressed. I'm deep down in a pit of hurt and heartache and negativity. I want nothing more than to sleep the days away. I want nothing more than to hide under my covers and not move. But when I sleep, I dream. It's a vicious cycle. I hate it.
The depression comes in so many forms. I mean, really, depression is depression, either way you look at it, but for me personally, I experience it in many different ways. There are times that I'm angry. So angry and every other thought is of violently hurting myself, or smashing something or screaming or just going off the deep end. And there are times that I'm in so deep in a pit of hurt that every thought is of killing myself just to make the pain stop. Just make it go away. And then there are times that I hate the depression so much that I do everything I can to make myself everything I'm not. A better wife. A better mom. A better Christian. A better everything. I'm just not good enough.
And then there are times like these. This experience is fairly new to me. In all of my years of battling depression (and trust me, it's been a long haul)I've never stopped going. I keep functioning. I keep going. Keep on. I can only remember maybe twice in my entire school career that my grades ever dropped. I didn't stop studying. I didn't stop hanging out with my friends. I didn't stop playing volleyball. I did the things I loved through the pain. But now. This is different.
I don't want to *do* anything. Nothing. It takes every bit of energy I have to get out of bed in the morning. I get up and lay right back down on the couch. My body aches. I just lay and stare off into space and allow my brain to shut off completely. I don't want to see anyone, I don't want to be around my friends. I don't want to go anywhere, including church. I'm tired of playing church. I feel as though I have nothing positive left to offer. Everything is negative. I feel as though I go unnoticed a lot of the time. Especially here, in real life, where people can actually see me. I hurt, so intensely at times that I want to give up. But this is a different kind of give up. I've reached the point where it isn't violent anymore. I don't feel that anger. I don't feel that hate or rage. Just nothing. Apathy. I just want to stop eating. Stop moving. Stop breathing. Just slowly fade away. Just lay under the covers and not live. Because living hurts. And I'm tired of hurting.
I slept 9 hours Friday in the day. I went to bed at 2 am Saturday, and slept 13 hours. I woke up after having had all of that sleep and it took every thing I had to get out of bed. I just wanted to sleep some more. I ended up only getting 5 hours of sleep last night. That's okay, too. I didn't get deep enough into a sleep to dream. I'm okay with that. I feel like I'm running on empty. I honestly didn't realize that Thanksgiving was going to take such a toll on me. I spent so much time being busy that I wore myself completely out. I've spent weeks and weeks fighting this depression. It was getting bad right before Eric got sick and then I had to turn it off. And then the next thing I know it's Thanksgiving and I don't dare let my guard down. And then I get to worship this morning and he's there, after every indication I'd gotten is that he was going to worship elsewhere from now on. But no, there he was. And I feel like.. I don't understand any of this. My body has never been this physically depressed. I've always been able to keep going. And now? I'm tired of going. I don't want to keep going. I just want to stop. Stop living. Because living hurts.
And I've said all of this to be honest. To be *real*. And reading through it I feel like such a whiner. It's this horrible vicious cycle and it's nothing but hurt. I hate it. I'm tired of being captive. I'm tired of fighting this fight. I'm tired. Plain and simple. It scares me. I've never been to this point before. I'm so close to not functioning it isn't funny. I'm literally doing the bare minimum to get by. And someone posed a question the other day. And I can't get it out of my head.
When is it enough? When do I stop and say 'ENOUGH'? And when I get to that point.. what then? I don't want to give up completely. I don't. I can't control this hurt. I can't turn it off and be happy. I don't like it but this is who I am. This is my road to walk. And walk it I will. And in the end I know that God is good. And God is faithful. And even though I don't deserve it, I'll hold on to that. Right now it feels like that's all there is left.
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.