This fall, I experienced a prolonged depression. Other than when I had my soul breakdown in January 2010, I have not felt such all-consuming darkness until 2016.
Some things are too desperately intimate to write about until we have achieved a bit of distance from it. I’m learning now to walk through the worst of it with a few trusted confidantes, and only examine it when I feel more stable and sure. I’m definitely still not out of the woods yet, but it’s better now.
Anyone who has been depressed knows just how scary it can get. The sense of hopelessness and despair is all around you, with no reprieve in sight. Just getting through the day until you can sleep is like climbing a steep mountain in the dark when you don’t have the necessary survival supplies with you.
For me, it was a perfect storm of moving, being homeless for two months and living with my in-laws (who were gracious and kind with us in their space, but not having my own routines and home was tougher than I expected), getting the kids settled in new schools and Jason in a new job, plus recovering from my 8 day hospital stay after a ruptured appendix this summer.
Everything left me off-kilter, sad, lost and fearful. I had to acknowledge just how rough it had been, while still moving forward because the pace of life doesn’t gently slow to allow for ongoing quiet reflection. I found another gear to downshift into and simply keep going: painting our new place, buying groceries, writing, keeping up with friends…but all of it was shaded in grey and held no vibrancy or optimism in it.
I booked a phone call with my fabulous therapist in Alberta and she helped me sort out a lot of these complex emotions. We can’t run from what haunts us. It’s better to stop and face it, when we are able to, and feel it thoroughly so it releases its death grip on us. I needed to do this in a few areas. After weeping a gallon or so of hot tears, I could choose to let it go and make space for something new and better in its place.
The key ingredient I needed was rest. This is true for many of us. We are not machines and cannot go like the Energizer Bunny forever. Eventually we crash. It’s preferable to anticipate the impending breakdown and make a change before it happens. I needed to make the choice to slow down, both internally and externally. To journal. To sleep in on the weekend. To not have the answers. To say no to a few commitments and yes to a board game with my kids in my pajamas.
It’s so true that if we don’t have our health, we don’t have anything. And no one will look after it for us. That job falls to each of us. We get to choose what makes us happy and determine what is contributing to our ongoing grief and darkness. I am longing to move toward the light, in whatever form that takes. With people, with activities, with my own strength and courage.
Sometimes we simply have to survive these bleak and awful seasons, but if we want to thrive we must make space for our own souls. Less Facebook ranting and more kindness. Fewer nasty opinions on Twitter and more quiet winter walks where I can breathe the clean air and pray. We can make room for all of these big feelings without labelling them as bad or good. In making our way though it, we slowly find our way home, back to our truest, most authentic selves.