Coming out from under the covers . . .

Another day, another depression.

Yep, that's what I said. Depression.

It's not a secret to anyone who might read this blog. At least, I've never tried to keep it a secret. While it may not come up in everyday conversation, it is a fact of my life with which I've dealt since the birth of my first child in 1999. The feelings that I felt after she was born terrified, confused, and overwhelmed me. Surrounded by friends who recognized what I could not, I was encouraged to get help. My wonderful OB prescribed meds and immediately sent me for counseling. I got through the PPD, but depression has hung on in cycles ever since that time.

I don't want to use this blog to bare all. There's no need to let all of my readers (all both of you) into every intimate part of my life. But I like to blog, and I like to blog about what is going on in my life, and I like to blog many times a week. My blog has had few posts over the past couple of weeks, and the depression is the reason for that.

One reason I wanted to go ahead and post this blog is that so many, many people deal with depression, and thankfully the stigma regarding mental health and drugs is slowly waning. In the wake of the Brooke Shields / Tom Cruise debate, I feel that many women are starting to speak up regarding their own PPD.

Depression raises many issues - what do you do with religion and depression, depression used as a defense (as in the Andrea Yates case), depression and medication? I read this article about a level playing field, and I liked that analogy so much. We all deserve that level field to play on. If you've ever dealt with depression, then you can understand how depression can create valleys and mountains in daily life, making things seemed skewed and difficult.

What would obviously look like success on a clear day, would look like total failure on a day filled with depression. On those days, even the simplest tasks are difficult. Wiping up a puddle of spilled milk will seem as overwhelming as single-handedly building a fully-functional rocket ship, ready for lift-off in ten minutes. The things I love become something unthinkable - like being around people. I'd rather bury myself in my bed than do the thing I love more than anything, which is be around people. I want to isolate myself from my precious family and from dear friends.

I remember after Chicken Nugget was born, how all of these feelings came upon me, and I felt like I couldn't tell anyone about them. I didn't understand what was happening to me, and it was scary. I'd never felt the grip of depression before that. I would stand in the shower and cry, never wanting the shower to end, never wanting to face anyone or anything in life ever again. I could only articulate it this way: I felt as though I was drowning. My mother said that my grandmother used the same phrase when she went through PPD so many years ago.

Now I've cycled through it many, many times in these last seven years. I've had about three episodes (or whatever you want to call them) recently that have pretty bad. Thankfully, I have faithful friends and a dedicated spouse to walk beside me and encourage me to get the help I need. Thankfully, I can recognize what is happenening now and reach out for what I need.

While I wait for things to clear up again, I want so desperately to claw out of the pit of hopelessness, fear, and anger. I want to be happy to see the sun shining. I ask people to pray for me. I ask the Holy Spirit to pray for me, with those groans that words cannot express. I try to remember that my High Priest understands all that I'm going through, and that I can approach His throne of grace with confidence and ask anything I need to.

And when I'm out of that pit, I'm thankful for those who have helped me though, helped me understand that I didn't cause this and can't help it, and pray for those who feel they have to suffer through it alone. I pray for more understanding and more help, more research and articles, more encouragement for those people like me, who suffer from depression.