Depression

Every time I come up against bloggers-block (ha ) it’s because there is something on my heart that I feel I can’t share, for whatever reason. I usually start blogging again when I realize that the best way past it is to blog about it, and afterwards I’m able to move on to other topics. So I’m going to try that now.

I tell myself, privately, that my struggle with depression will one day be a great testimony for the Lord. How he brought me through. Once I finally reach the other side. And, in the meantime, I tell myself, it must be secret. I have to push through on God’s strength, keep quiet, and one day I’ll be able to look back on these times and explain to others how God brought me through.

And you’re reading that, going, “Michy, that’s dumb. That’s not how it should work.” And I’d agree with you.

Why do I feel the need to keep my struggles secret? It’s not for God’s glory. It doesn’t make God appear any stronger or do anything to prove his power. It neither helps me nor does it help my friends. It’s pride. If I’m honest, the only reason for my secrecy is that I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that I’m weak, that I struggle, that I have a problem that my friends don’t have, and I hide it to protect myself, pride-fully trying to appear unflawed.

The other option is, of course, to open up and let my loved ones in – to help, to listen, or even just to pray. I would have to trust God enough to be vulnerable, to humbly admit that I’m not Super Michy. Just Michy. And that definitely goes against the grain.

Some Truths

So here’s the truth. I cry more than … anyone. I cry more than anyone should, more than anyone else does, as far as I can tell. I get depressed, and miserable, and it makes me feel utterly alone. Because I know that there is no way anyone else can understand. I know that really, only God can truly be there with me – understand me – and I feel alone. I feel helpless to explain, and I usually don’t even bother.

In fact, I usually scoff at people who ask “What’s wrong?” I decide that they don’t have, or care to have, the next twelve hours free for me to really make myself understood. And it seems so meaningless to just say I’m sad. I’m depressed. I’m going through some stuff. I’m having a hard time. Those phrases don’t even BEGIN to cover it, and even if they did, someone would then ask me, “Why?” A million reasons! I can list a handful off the top of my head, but to you they will seem like nothing, and the truth is, they are nothing. Except that they are piled on top of a lifetime of other STUFF and they are viewed through my messed-up, depressed mind.

And the truth is I hate that I’m depressed. I see myself as weak and lazy when my depression interferes with my life, and I tend to feel like I need to protect myself from being seen that way by others. So act strong. Get mad, not sad. Crying is weakness. Smile. Pretend. Be there for others, but never make them be there for you. Because chances are they’ll fail, or even if they don’t, they won’t be ENOUGH.

Best not to try. And best not to be a burden, because if you are a burden you’re likely not to have ANY friends.

This is why I feel unknown: I don’t let anyone know me. I might as well tell God that He made me wrong. He shouldn’t have given me this flaw. It’s ugly; it’s meant to be hidden.

And as I try to hide, I lose something. I grow hard and harsh and lose my inner beauty and gentleness and… I can’t be genuine with people. And without that genuineness and openness, my relationships become shallow. I wonder if my impact on people, on the world… how different would it be if I were open? Vulnerable? Would people see God more clearly? Would they feel love more fully? Would my words and actions be more meaningful?

The truth is, I live with the chronic pain of depression. I struggle THROUGH it, constantly. And God helps me. He’s with me every moment, he gets me through each day. He’s the reason I don’t become self-destructive, the reason I can still love others, the reason I can still find joy (sometimes). I think my friends deserve to know that NOW. Because who knows if there ever will be an “other side” that I’ll reach, where it won’t hurt so much? If I keep waiting for that, I may never get to share my testimony.

Just some thoughts…

Two soldiers from Hubby’s division, who were deployed to the same location as my hubby, were killed Saturday during a training exercise with US soldiers and Iraqi soldiers. It was only one Iraqi soldier who was out for blood, apparently, and the man’s own commanding officer also died trying to take him down… But still, just one soldier with a plan to use live rounds instead of blanks, and we’ve lost two of our men. I pray that God comforts their families…. I can’t even imagine the pain.

I know that a lot of us wives are finding that this is a wake-up call. Iraq, right now, is still unsafe. Yeah, it’s better than it was a couple years ago, and it’s better than Afghanistan. But there are still so many dangers there, from the vehicles breaking down or catching fire during mission to the people who make stupid choices and put others in danger, to the Iraqis who still hate us and don’t care whether they survive their attempt to take as many down as possible.

I’m reminding myself, however, that it’s not a wake-up call to worry. It’s a call to pray more and trust more. The God who loves us and gave his Son for us has all things well in hand, and I know he wants for me to lay my anxieties at his feet and allow him to comfort me.

Thankfully, when I heard the news this weekend I was occupied by a visit from one of my best friends! It was good to have a distraction. I think without Erika here, I might have spent the whole weekend saying to myself, “I know he’s fine, but….” and “what if….” and “…but if he’s okay, why hasn’t he been online?” I watched four movies this weekend with Erika…

1. 1. Knight and Day – Funny movie, but oh, so corny. The dialog was pretty bad, the stunts were pretty outrageous, and…I just expected more from Cameron Diaz and Tom Cruise.
2. 2. Easy A – Liked this one fairly well. It was a cute movie and a decent story. My complaint is with the girl playing the main character. I’ve seen Emma Stone in several other movies without complaint, but I did not like her in this role. It didn’t seem like a good fit. She was annoying and kind of awkward, in my opinion.
3. 3. The Dilemma – Liked this one pretty well, too. It was funny – definitely has its moments… But it’s the kind of movie that kind of makes you cringe for the main character. He seems to always make bad decisions.
4. 4. The Social Network – Good movie! Although, it did make me kind of hate Mark Zuckerburg. The movie kept me interested all the way through and was just…very captivating and entertaining. And I liked how it neither spoke as to who was right and who was wrong, nor did it gloss over everything as if it was all just a little unnecessary drama. The characters seemed very real – in the sense that sometimes people just don’t THINK and sometimes geniuses are stupid jerks and sometimes friendships aren’t very deep… I guess I can’t really explain it.

I hope that y’all will help me pray for the families of those soldiers who died in Iraq on Saturday. And pray for the rest of the soldiers that are still there in Iraq and in other dangerous countries, such as my Hubby (who, by the way, is fine He was able to get back online last night and reassure me).

Deployment is looming! It is a giant shadow standing somewhere nearby with arms upraised and claws extended, creeping closer, silently, on its tiptoes.

It’s not so distant anymore. No Siree!

When Hubby got back from JRTC, it was just the beginning. Now the topic of deployment comes up not just every day but multiple times a day! It’s inescapable! The truth is, it’s almost here.

First Married Deployment

Hubby has deployed twice already. (Have I mentioned how much that bugs me? It’s ridiculous that there are people who have been in the Army for over a decade already that haven’t deployed more than once, and yet my husband has been in for four years and is already on his third deployment.) Twice deployed, but never as a married man. I’m still new to the Army! Having a friend deploy is one thing; having a husband deploy is going to be a different matter altogether!

I didn’t need the other Army wives telling me it would be different for me to know that it would be different. I knew before we married that deployment would be coming and that it would be different than it was before, for both of us. But I think that only now, as we’ve been married for nine months and the deployment is looming, am I really beginning to understand just how different it will be.

Outside of marriage, it’s hard to understand just how close you really get once you’re husband and wife. Maybe simply living together would bring you as close, but I don’t think so. The bond in marriage is more than just living together, and it’s more than having physical intimacy while living together. Being pulled apart from each other for a year is going to be painful. Putting one of us in a constantly life-threatening setting will make it all the harder.

One of Many

This is but one of many deployments, and we are but one of many couples facing it. The life inside the Army is so different from life outside that many of my friends can’t really comprehend it, but there are so many others that can. How many hundreds of wives are missing their husbands at this very moment? How many hundreds are anticipating that loss? How many thousands are cherishing the time they have with the knowledge that it can only last so long? I must take what comfort I can from the fact that I’m not alone in this.

Facing It

The most important thing to remember is that God is with us, even now. I must continue to leave my worries at God’s feet and let him help me through. Prayer is powerful. Prayer is powerful. Must remember that…

Deployment is before us, and we can’t stop it from coming ever closer, but it’s best for us to face it head on. So, I can see it there, looming right ahead of me. Rather than seeing a big, giant, scary cloud of blackness, maybe I can remind myself that it has a form. It’s about yea high… only about 12 feet tall instead of 12 stories. It’s not really black so much as tan, like the sand in the desert. And it’s really just strolling past, not coming directly at us as though to eat us.

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Why should I sing in the choir? Can’t I sing just as well from the congregation?

Why should I go to church? I can read the Bible and pray at home.

Why should I pray? I mean, God already knows my thoughts, right? He knows what I would ask for.

Do you wonder about those things, too?

Once Upon A Time…

There you are, sitting at Bible study/church/youth group. You’re not close friends with the everyone there, but you see them twice a week, every week. You’ve even spent some time alone hanging out with a couple of them. You sit together before the lesson and chat about how your week has been going, and you laugh about things that have happened at work. Afterwards, you eat a meal together and chat some more. You go home feeling good about the experience.

Next week, Bible study time comes, and when you arrive, everyone else from the group is already there. You find out by piecing together pieces of their conversations that they have spent the day hanging out. Elsewhere. You weren’t ever invited.

Sure, you get to hear about how much fun they had, but you weren’t included. And no one singled you out to tell you about it.

Aren’t you hurt? Don’t you feel disappointed? Excluded?

Wouldn’t God feel the same?

Including Him

What I consider real friendships – deep, close, meaningful friendships – are those in which I can sit and talk about what’s going on with me. Here’s what I’m excited about, here’s what I’m worried about, here’s what I could use a second opinion on. I can laugh with my real friends and sometimes even cry with them. We can seethe together over some injustice. We can put on silly hats at Walmart.

This is why we pray.

God knows what happens in our day-to-day lives. He know which parts we liked and disliked, what we’re excited about, and what we’re nervous about. He knows what parts we tell our best friends about and what we write in our journals. But he doesn’t want to hear it through the grapevine or overhear us telling someone else. He wants the intimacy that comes from sharing a relationship with us.

He wants to cry with you and seethe over that injustice; that stupid event that happened at work. He wants to nod in understanding and remind you that it will be okay. He wants to share your joy in triumphs and be included in your life!

And, of course, he wants to hear more than “Please bless Bobby and please give the Grants safe travel. Oh and please bless this food. Amen.” When that was the only praying I was doing, it was no wonder I had a hard time understanding its importance.

Drift Happens

However, even I, though I feel I understand the importance of prayer, find it hard to keep up the habit. A few days of skipping prayer is sometimes all it takes to break the habit, a few days of being too tired or too busy to get around to it. I figure, well God knew how I felt about that. He understands I was too tired. I’ll catch him tomorrow. Before I know it, sometimes it’s weeks or months down the road and I haven’t had any real sit-down time with him, and I’m wondering why I don’t feel as close.

I have to remind myself of the importance, and then I have to sometimes just force myself to do it. Then, at the end of a long conversation I can sit back and say ,“Wow! That was great! Man, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed talking to him. Why did we ever drift apart?”

It’s natural to go through phases of feeling more distant from God, but it’s important to remember why and how we stay close. So, here I am, reminding you – and myself.

I wish I had taken pictures or videos of the fireworks I saw this year! Hubby and I went to the carnival here at Hood Stadium to eat junk food, wade through trillions of sweaty people, and watch fireworks. It was probably the best fireworks display that I’ve had the chance to see in person – especially the finale! Wow!

This year made one of only about 5 or 6 years in my life that I haven’t spent the evening watching fireworks at Duncanville or at Flagler Beach. Is that strange? Does anyone else have any Fourth of July traditions like that? It feels weird to have been in a different place, so far from family, watching fireworks alone with my husband. Nice, but strange.

I’m so glad that the bombs bursting in air on Sunday night were not the sound of attacks being made against my husband. Next year, though, he’ll be back on the battlefield when this time of year rolls around. I pray that God continues to bless and protect our troops worldwide, fighting continually for our country!

It’s Sunday night, and I’m writing now because I know I’ve gotten into a bad habit of putting off my blog-writing until the last minute, and then sometimes putting it off even longer. I have several different topics written down, but none of them struck me as right. I could write about them, I guess, but it would just be writing. I would just be filling space. They are topics I care about normally, but right now I’m having a hard time caring about much of anything.

Lately, my blogs have been a bit more personal, so I might as well continue in that vein. See, the truth is, I have, and I guess I continually do, struggle with depression. I have ups and downs. Sometimes the downs seem to be random, while at other times they’re triggered by something or someone. Of course, my most recent down was triggered by JRTC.

“Overcoming depression,” is, I think, a fitting title. Depression is one of those ongoing things that never seems to just go away. It took me… not long at all to figure that out, but it took me years to really accept it. At first it was horrifying. I’m going to probably deal with this for the rest of my life? I can’t handle that! … But I can.

The Early Years

I don’t know when it started. You know? Lots of us can’t really remember a time when it was different, though we have a feeling somewhere in the backs of our minds that it was, at one time. I do know when it got bad, and then when it got worse. I definitely remember crying – all – the – time. I couldn’t handle the things I thought I should be able to handle. I remember feeling so sick of “having to pretend everything is ok.” Dropping out of school, quitting multiple jobs, dropping out of college… Depression is miserable, right? I mean, to me, the words are almost synonymous.

I used to wonder why no one cared. Couldn’t they tell? Couldn’t they read between the lines? Nevermind that I was trying to hide it.

The worst part was that I “knew” I had no right to feel that way. I told myself…probably every day…how good I had it. Followed closely by an increase in the flood of tears and a feeling of hopeless misery as I told myself how bad I had it. Followed by berating myself for feeling that way. Endless cycles of what felt like endless sadness. I dealt with it like many do. I avoided people, isolated myself, built bad habits, self-medicated, ran away, et cetera…

How I Healed

Those valleys at first were so deep I thought I’d never get out. And once I did, it seemed like another one was there to meet me right away. Now, they’re less frequent. They’re not so deep. But how I healed then is the same way I get through the valleys now. Now, I’m just more practiced at it, I guess.

• Prayers of Family and Friends – I have to mention this first. People loved me, throughout all my dark years, enough to pray for me no matter how I hurt them or worried them. My parents, siblings, grandparents… My friends from highschool, friends online… I don’t know how many prayed for me or how frequently they prayed, but I do know God heard them. I use this as a reminder to myself to pray consistently for those I care and worry about. I know it makes a difference.
• Walking with God – My healing came from God, not from within myself. But it wasn’t instantaneous like I wanted it to be. I had walked away and abandoned him because I couldn’t believe he was really there. I spent two years crying out in my misery, asking God not to change my situation but to help me cope. Finally, I said he wasn’t doing it. Why would he not do it if he was there? Why would he let me suffer so, when I’m trying to do right, and when I’m asking for help? By the time I got to the deepest part of the valley, my faith was, well, nowhere in sight. I had forsaken almost everything I had previously valued.
  Eventually, I came to realize I did believe in God. I couldn’t deny his existence anymore. But it was still a long time before my life began to reflect that admission of belief. And after that, it was still a long time before I began to learn to trust. And even then, nothing magically got better. I wanted it to. I wanted it to be as simple as saying I believe – please help me! But it doesn’t work like that.
  I had to learn to walk with God, and I have to keep walking with him, and he helps me through. I go through things I’m sure I can’t handle, and he listens to me complain, and he loves me. And sometimes I don’t even realize until long after the fact that he’s really been carrying me and my load, just like in that poem Footprints in the Sand.
• Permission to Feel – I’m an Army wife now, so my first thought is of my husband and how he has to ask permission to do almost anything. I don’t know when, but at some point, I convinced myself that I did not have permission to feel. Permission denied.
  I did not have a right to my feelings. I never asked anyone; I just decided. The second biggest piece of advice I can give to anyone struggling with depression is to allow yourself to feel. There’s no should to human feelings. Maybe there’s a “norm,” maybe. Maybe. But no should. You just feel what you feel. The problem is that some of us spend all our time feeling guilty for feeling bad, and then feeling bad for feeling guilty, and then feeling guilty all over again. Like I said, in me it produced an endless cycle until I decided that I was going to allow myself to feel sad. Even if my reasons were flimsy – even if there were no reasons at all. When sadness hits me, I feel sad. When anger, depression, or hopelessness hit me, I feel it rather than denying it. I find that it helps tremendously.
• Venting and Support – Both are important, but sometimes we can’t have both. Still, the last step for me and the last piece of advice I can give is this: Find an outlet and find support. Journaling can be an outlet, chatting with friends can be, and so can art or a number of other hobbies and crafts. Even crying while eating a bowl of ice cream can be an outlet. Prayer is another great outlet! You’ve got to have some way, though, to express your feelings. It’s good for you.
  Me, I choose a combination of all of the above. And as for support, I have quite a few supportive loved ones, but my main source of support is my husband. I am so blessed to have him.

I Want to Help

I don’t know if I’ll ever really have an outside-the-home career. As you know, I’m a stay-home wife, and I hope one day in the next few years to become a stay-home mom. But even if I don’t have a career, there’s something I want to do. I want to help. Depression is one of those nasty things that I hate for anyone to have to experience. But we do. We go through it, and if you’re like me you may struggle with it for most of your life! I saw several different counselors and psychologists in my low times, but only one made a difference to me. I want to be that person for someone else.

I want to help… so badly! The hard part is that what works for me may or may not help anyone else. It’s hard to know how to approach people because everyone is different! Just like not everyone struggling with weight issues conquers them in the same way, not everyone struggling with depression conquers it in the same way. But I do so want to help.

And I guess that’s all I have to say about that. For now.

This post may take the place of my regular Monday post!

I just wanted to take a moment to say Happy Mother’s Day to all of you moms out there. I am not yet a mother, though I intend to be one some day! I do, however, have great respect for mothers of all ages, from the young military wives to those of you who have been mothering for 40+ years. I especially want to make sure my own mother knows how much she is appreciated today!

Who She Is

Without giving away personal information, I want to tell you a bit about my mom. She got married as a young Christian woman, and she and my dad became missionaries very shortly afterwards. She gave birth to my sisters and me while living in Suriname, South America, and she raised all of us there, including my brother, who was born in the states. When I was three, our family moved to Texas, and my mother had to go through a painful divorce. All of us children stayed with Mom, and she managed to keep going through such a hard time. My eldest sister married, the next oldest went away to college in another state, and my brother soon left to live with Dad, leaving just Mom and me for most of my childhood.

As a single parent, she managed to keep me in a a home that was never lacking in, well, anything. We never ran short of anything or ran out of any essentials. In fact, the idea that such a thing could happen never crossed my mind, as our home was so stable to me. She went back to school and completed her nursing degree while working another job, and when she finished she found a steady job that, while not the most enjoyable, allowed us to have that stability we needed. She even managed to get me a good education, despite my problems with depression and my constant refusals to go to school.

Throughout it all, most importantly, she taught me about God. She talked about Him as a real person, and her faith always seemed unwavering. She had me in church and read me Bible stories, prayed with me every night, and answered my questions to the best of her knowledge. When I hit my rebellious years, she let me choose to stop attending church as long as I went with her every other week, which I consider to be a big part of the reason I started seeking again, looking for answers. She was, of course, very happy to find out that I’d accepted Christ as my savior and wanted to start going to church more often (which turned out to be Sunday morning and evening, Tuesday night youth Bible study, and Wednesday night prayer meeting).

Beyond that, she has always given me sound advice, though it has at times been hard to hear. She keeps an open mind and allows me to form my own opinions about things, even when she thinks my opinions are misguided.

Once I reached adulthood, she helped me financially when I got into trouble until I eventually matured enough to manage my life better. She stuck with me through my wandering years, brought me back home when I hit rock bottom, put up with my attitudes, helped me job hunt, and is basically one of my heroes.

I look up to her so much.

I love you, Mom! I’m so glad I had you, growing up, and that I still have you now. I’m so glad you found such a great man who loves you like you deserve to be loved! Looking forward to seeing you soon!