Friday, February 19, 2010
I get sad. It's true, I do and I can't help it. Most of the time nothing has triggered the sadness. No one has died. I just don't feel... perky.
People don't understand that either. "What do you mean you're sad? Did someone die? Are your kids sick? Is your car broken? Does Jefe still have his job? Do you have a place to live? You have nothing to be sad about! Buck up little camper!"
I know all of that, but sometimes it's not that simple.
My favorite is when people tell me that if I would just focus on Christ more, or go to church more and read my scriptures better, then I wouldn't be sad. "God fills you with love" they say. While that is true, and I really do believe that, it doesn't stop those stupid sad demons from invading my life.
Sometimes you can't just "shake it off". The demons come in, set up camp and start a bonfire. Most of the time I am able to evict them as quickly as they set up shop... but other times? Not so much.
I joke a lot about it, my depression, because it makes it easier to "deal with". I have actually named those pesky demons... Or as I like to call them, my Crazy Lady.
I tell her "today you will not win. You will not control my thoughts!" Sometimes that works. Other times not so much.
I haven't ever wanted to blog about my depression, because really? Who wants to read about that? It's... well, depressing.
The truth is this: I have fought depression for the majority of my life. It has always been there, simmering on the proverbial back burner. At times it boils over, leaving a huge mess. Other times, its contained rather nicely in a very pretty red pot that's called my life.
My adult life has been littered with various attempts to control Estelle. She comes and goes as she pleases, never warning me of an impending visit. She shows up at the oddest times, wearing out her welcome rather fast. She and I battle for my sanity.
Lately, she has been winning a lot.
My friend Heather wrote this amazing post about depression back in July that I have been unable to stop thinking about. She said something incredibly profound:
She is carrying this disease and she thinks she isn't and then sometimes she thinks she is this disease. She is me and I am her and she is them and she is not.
I have depression. I see myself in my children. Yet I believe that I don't have to see this part of me in them. That is my wish and my prayer. That I can control Estelle and teach my children to hold their heads high with dignity and embrace the life that God has given them.
Even if she does become them, she doesn't own them. They are so much more than Estelle.