On coming out of depression

One of the strangest things about coming out of a recent bout of depression is fighting myself not to fall into it again.

And then re-learning how to do life.

As I get healthier mostly by working on catching my thoughts before they catch me, focusing more on the things of God, seeing a therapist, and taking medication, I am shocked at how ingrained my depressive behaviors have melded into me.

In the past year during my times of extreme sadness, I spent a lot of time in bed.

Now I am up, walking around, hugging my kids, kissing my husband, and looking my friends (the ones who have stuck it out) in the eye. I find myself checking in with, well, myself. “Do I need to go to bed? Should I go to bed? I should be in bed, right?”

It’s just what I know. Things get difficult, and I crawl in bed.

Sometimes now Sergei comes home from work and we look at each other, and I just know we both are thinking, “what the hell are you still doing up?”

It’s ironic. Now that I am doing better in general, I fight my thoughts. I fight waiting for the next time it comes. The Big D. Depression. My thorn in the flesh.

I fight to live in the now.

I have more bad habits to deal with. I need to get out more. I’ve become unsociable. I am more comfortable typing words here on the blog than speaking to people in real life.

It’s like re-learning how to live without an actual health issue. I haven’t come out of a coma, or spent a year in the hospital. But in a lot of ways it feels like I have.

Sometimes I catch people’s eyes at church, or with friends, or at the kids’ school, and I notice that they notice.

For a second, the person opposite me gets that this is hard … Doing life, every day.

I silently nod and continue.

It’s hard. But it is worth it.

Recently, I’ve decided to start a book on depression. I have notes. I am working on a proposal. And because a book length project requires focus, and brain power, I’ve decided to make this blog more raw. A lot of times I craft a blog post here much like I would for a paying gig at a magazine. I blogged for 31 days during the month of October for Down syndrome awareness. It spent me.

But I think, for a while at least, I am going to just write, and share my heart, and my struggles, and my happiness, and my relationship with God (and the days when it is lack thereof).

I’ll just free write and let the words fall on the eyes of whom they may.

Feels good.

I’m thankful that I am coming out of depression.

But there is more work to be done.

On a totally separate note: I am intrigued by sister wives. That’s bad, isn’t it?