Why art thou cast down?

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance." -Psalm 42:5

I used to have this friend. I think of her quite often now, but haven't seen or spoken to her in several years. When we were teenagers, she was often quiet and sad. We (the rest of our group of friends and myself) always thought she was moody, that she was pouty. We often told her to just cheer up, not to be a party pooper, have fun.

Looking back, I can see clearly that she had depression. I didn't know anything about depression back then. I was naive enough to think that you could just choose to feel better, if you wanted to. I think some people thought she was just seeking attention.

It was not until years later, when I experienced postpartum depression for the first time, that I finally understood how she must have felt. We were horrible to her. She must have been so sad and angry and hurt by us. I wish I could go back in time and hug her and just sit with her, instead of trying to force her to feel something she probably desperately wanted to feel but couldn't.

I myself have had someone close to me tell me they believed that I could choose to feel better. I wanted to murder them. On the spot.

I can only speak from my own experience with depression. I think that, though everyone affected probably shares some things in common, we all experience it differently and perceive it differently because we are all different, unique people.

There are a couple of ways we have acknowledged my depression around here, although it doesn't get a lot of air time. I am trying to get past it, but I still feel a lot of shame. Some people are under the misconception that I'm a strong, unflappable mother... and I kind of like it that way. But the truth is I am deeply flawed, just like everyone else in the world. I have to remind myself that it doesn't define me, it's just a part of me. 

When it is bad, my husband sometimes says I have gone "Dark Sarah." Or on a bad day, I will sometimes acknowledge it by saying "Deep, dark hole in here," and point at my head. That is how it feels to me. Like I am in a deep, deep, dark hole that there is no hope of clawing my way out of. Sometimes it feels like I am suffocating. Or drowning. There is no hope for anything.

Depression tells me I am a terrible mother. That my kids deserve better. That it would be easier if I just wasn't here.

No one would ever choose to feel that way. No one would ever choose to feel the way I feel when I am being sucked down into depression.

It really rankles me when people suggest you can "pray it away" too.

Today, I found myself on the edge of the hole, holding on to the cliff with just my bare fingertips. I thought it came on suddenly, but after a meltdown and some good old-fashioned sobbing in the bathroom and some introspection, I realized the signs were there yesterday, maybe even earlier in the week.

I'm not at rock bottom, so I'm holding on to hope that I can drag myself back out of this one. And believe me, I have been praying. Praying helps. So does acknowledging it. So does taking care of myself (which is hard when my job is to take care of everyone else). Remembering to take my antidepressants helps a lot.

But praying reminds me that I am not alone. That I can put my hope in God  and I will yet praise him, because he will help me. 

Before I sat down to write, I had my evening quiet time, which is when I finish reading the day's Bible verses and any devotionals I am in. After that, I flipped back in my planner to look up some verses that struck a chord with me last time I found myself in the hole. I really like this one:

"Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and afflicted.

The troubles of my heart are enlarged: O bring thou me out of my distresses." -Psalm 25:16-17

It's the desperate prayer of a desperate person! I love it, because I'm desperate.

O Lord, be not far from me.