Today I am guest posting over at Me Too Moments For Moms.
When I saw these ladies were doing a series on depression, I immediately thought of this post. It is one of the earliest missives on this blog, but I dusted it off and asked Lisa if she could use it. As I polished it up, I was reminded anew that depression need not steal my joy. It is a message I need to revisit from time to time, and I hope it blesses some of you.
You are not alone!
Grace and peace to you–
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**In honor of my beautiful daughter’s 12th birthday this week, I thought I’d repost this. This is one of the first articles I wrote for this blog, and I strongly feel that its message is one we’d all do well to contemplate now and again. Especially as many of us are heading back into the fray of another school year, we must remember to be intentional about our words. Enough said.
The sock was a surprisingly good conversationalist. It sported cheerful neon stripes and the face of Hello Kitty. Though Kitty was now looking at me upside down, as the verbose footwear was currently gracing my young daughter’s arm. I watched for a moment as my progeny carried on both sides of a very animated exchange. This daughter of mine is a talker. Not just chatty, mind you. She can ‘talk the leg off a table,’ as my Dad used to say. And since no one in the family wanted to talk with her, she had resorted to pulling off her sock and creating an impromptu sock puppet friend. A companion who would stay engaged for as long as she wished.
I cursed a blue streak this morning. I’m not quite sure what came over me. Perhaps it is related to the fact that my left ovary woke me up at 5:00 this morning; the pain shooting all the way down to my knee, for Pete’s sake. The ol’ hormonal roller coaster of my advancing years is…notably more intense than I’d anticipated. Or maybe I can blame Microsoft for making things so danged convoluted. I am convinced that they are conspiring to drive the average person insane so they can take over the world.
I gingerly stepped over the abandoned scooter and avoided planting my foot in the overflowing cat box. With a sort of hop-shift-twist, I balanced like a Zen master and continued making my way to the freezer. It looks like a hoarder lives here, I thought. I nudged a pink spiky mohawk bicycle helmet out of the way with my foot and rummaged through the frozen goods looking for inspiration.
I do not want to write this post. In fact, for the past two weeks I have been hiding from God. Like Jonah fleeing from his mission to Nineveh, I have been desperately leaping aboard any ship that may distract me from plumbing the depths of this issue. And, also like Jonah, I have been swallowed up. Not by a whale, mind you, but that behemoth called depression. Like the stomach acids of that famed sea mammal, this depression eats into my mind and gives me no rest. Why this is so difficult for me has been a large part of my despondency and I will address that in a bit.