Fighting Deprssion

In the past 3 1/2 years of almost continual crisis, fighting for the welfare of my heart has been an "all hands on deck" endeavor. Here are some of the practicals I've been fighting with.

Joy strength: God has translated "the joy of the Lord is your strength" into an understanding that finding joy is necessary, not optional. Joy is what I overcome pain with and I keep praying that he will show me where I can find wells of joy. For me, I have found joy in reading children's books (like Anne of Green Gables, etc), having tea at girly places with a friend and visiting used furniture stores among other things. I used to disdain these things because I considered them unspiritual and invalid but God has been been broadening my definition of joy and my sources.

Chiropractic: people who struggle with depression often lose the curvature of their spine and especially their neck. These can lead to further depression among a host of other health issues.

Mommy's helper: I have hired students or friends who need a job to help me for two hours a week. Cheaper than a cleaning service but just someone to help me get the laundry done, unpack (as we recently moved), organize, put up dishes, etc has been a God send

Prolief: I had a dream a while ago that I was passing out this hormone cream like candy samples. I didn't know anything about it except that people used it for hot flashes so I did a good bit of research. To put it in a small nutshell, I learned that MANY western women are overloaded with estrogen because of the hormones not only in meat and dairy, but the chemical estrogens in cleaners, make up, pesticides and so on. For example, drinking two glasses of soy milk a day has enough estrogen to change your menstrual cycle. Progesterone balances estrogen, it is the feel good hormone and in the BIO IDENTICAL form, has no side effects (unlike synthetic). It comes in a cream form that you put on like lotion. This has not been a fix all problem, but it is easy and inexpensive and has definitely helped cut the edge off the downward spiral. I would be happy to give you more info about it or order some for you if you are interested. (I get it cheaper than available on this site, but here it is for info) http://www.hormonewell.com/index.html

Diet: i've noticed that having a solid breakfast with protein helps me avoid the after breakfast, baby still awake but fussy for nap, mommy meltdown. I used to start the day with coffee only or coffee and then breakfast later but this seems to only add to the meltdowns. Keeping protein in my diet 3-4 times a day seems to really help with keeping my blood sugar from crashing as much. Cutting out, or reducing caffeine and sugar has also been really helpful. When i do consume these, eating sugar/caffeine with protein has helped maintain a steady blood sugar and therefore mood. I could go on and on about this, I actually am hosting seminars about it, but i'll keep it brief here :). If you're interested i more info of course, please feel free to ask.

Paying attention to my emotions: i've noticed that the earlier I intervene when I start to feel overwhelmed, resentful, etc, the easier it is to regain emotional ground and peace. Intervening may be asking for time out (to pray, to shop, have alone time, etc), asking for a friend to come over and give me something else to focus on, get out of the house and so on. Trying to "press on" seems destructive more than helpful sometimes in these situations.

Praying that God will give you whatever tools you need to overcome. Love and blessings.

An interesting surprise

A friend asked me tonight how I got into cancer nursing. Twenty minutes later, I stopped talking. I freely acknowledged the parts that I hated and I just talked about the people. People whose stories I participated in. Almost every story I told ended in death, but those stories are the closest to my heart. I have said so often how much I hate nursing and it's true that I have hated most of my nursing career, let's say 95%. I was surprised to find in my stories to my friend that there were bits of joy scattered about the journey. I find joy in standing with people in their pain. I'm okay with not being able to fix it. I don't feel like a failure in faith if I don't see their earthly lives restored but their heavenly lives begun. I have worked among the suffering for many years but the past particular year of personal suffering has made a deposit of understanding and compassion. I look forward to when suffering is eliminated from the syllabus of life. I'm looking forward to heaven.

You are well equipped to win

She was drunk with her own pain, pain that spilled out in anger, accusation and despair. She blamed those who loved her most, too broken to make sense of the situation and blind to the path of hope. The wise fairies acknowledged her pain, shed light on the reality and gave her permission to quit. Under intense pressure, she found her passion stirred enough to force her forward. Apparently unarmed, she ventured on to rescue the one she loved. In the end, it was her love that set captives free and defeated darkness, not only for the one she went after but for a whole nation.

Such was my take on Meg, a character from Madeline L'Engle's "A Wrinkle in Time". There are days without number when I feel just like her, drunk and blind with pain, unable to recognize or take hold of any hand of hope that is offered. I've reeled in anger towards those who love me, throwing darts of blame, losing sense of all the goodness He's poured into my story. That's where i've been the larger part of the past year, that's where I've been this week, that's where I've found myself today.

Panic rising, I've been asking for help. He reminds me of Meg. Of all, she believed least in her herself. Feels familiar. Yet because she loved, she held the key for freedom. He reminds me that I am well equipped to win. In the pressure of life and death, Meg found her fighting spirit. I am angst that I will ever find mine. The pressure comes in waves and lately I usually land underneath it, gasping for air. My wrestle is to believe that I will eventually win, to believe that I have what victory requires, to hope that the battle will really have an ending. Oh for magic fairies, oh Spirit of Grace, give me eyes to see that I will win and a heart to find hope in this truth. Help me remember that it is the weak things that confound the wise.

An Honest Evaluation

Black circles under my eyes, yesterday's make up. Drinking caffeine, hoping it kicks in soon to energize me for the neccesry tasks at hand. A dark night of the soul. One crisis after another for three and a half years, this particular one feels darkest and today it makes a year in duration. My daughter's need for my survival keeps me fighting the tide of dispair for another gasp of air. Believing You are able to cause me to feel the pleasure of Heaven in my very being, living amidst the nearly dead until you do. Though my efforts are weak and poor, I have done all I am able. Your turn.

An "Old Fashioned" Day

Somewhere in the vicinity of a decade ago, I uttered a prayer that seems now to have been the seed of a life defining conviction. "Lord, I want to serve you but I don't want to be tired the rest of my life," I said in a moment of reflection and probable exhaustion. This cry stemmed from observation of the "grown ups" I was admiring at the time, men and women I respect and honor today. These few, whilst doing great works and seeking hard after God, made frequent comment of their exhaustion, and some of whom made continual homage to the coffee pot to keep going. I also have passed many years in that same occupation.

Yet about the time of that first utterance, I began to wonder about the Sabbath. Whether or not I had many formed opinions on the matter at the time, I do not remember. I made some investigation into Scriptures on the subject, coming to some initial conclusions. My rudimentary understanding at the time was to do not what I considered laborious and to invest instead into what I considered restful. I smile to remember that grocery shopping was a particular enjoyment for me at that time and a regular Sabbath occupation. I did not relegate Sabbath to a particular day, as I was working in a hospital that required me to be on duty on various days, weekends included. Actually, my Sabbath was usually not on a weekend at all but any day I could pull away from the crowd and build my reserve of soulful rest. Such has the pattern continued, uninterrupted by much change, for almost a decade, until now.

I will lay credit for this resurgence of study, almost solely, at the instrument of late author, Grace Livingston Hill. A writer from the early 1900's, she penned stories that couched Bible messages worked out in the lives of her characters, addressed current social problems and cast vision for a Godly life. Sabbath observance was a frequent topic her characters wrestled with, either in the aim to observe it amidst opposition or in the quandaries of why to observe it at all for those who did not. Nearly a century after those stories were published, in a culture that externally is far removed, I am urged on to a deeper understanding.

Hope deferred and sick at heart

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life, so the Bible says and my heart echos that it is so.

I am too tired to cry much anymore though when I risk the venture of checking in with my heart, the tears stand ready to fall. I've been crying for a year. I don't have the time to recover from the outpouring anymore so I end up living very close to the surface for the sake of survival. My baby Belle needs the little energy I have and it is for for her, sometimes exclusively, that I keep on.

Apart from the charity of friends and family, we have truly been homeless for nearing a year. During which time, our little baby was born two months early, weighing in at two and a half pounds. After a 6 week hospital stay, we finally brought her home to my parents where we stayed for several more months. While dearly thankful for their generosity, we found that we could not bring our hearts home to the East Coast, having left a large part of them in the Midwest. So we returned to the open invitation of dear friends to begin resettling while staying with them. Now in a few weeks, we will need to move again. For a veritable homebody, the moving alone is enough for me to become unhinged. The thought of a basement apartment that we can't even afford feels like death to my soul. Maybe it's already dead though, at least it feels numb to the touch, for which honestly, I am thankful. I can survive on numb, at least for a while longer.

The promise of substance seems ever before me, but like a haze you cannot see past nor grasp onto. Today our hostess suggested moving into a mutual friend's house while it is on the market. Hubbie and I have done this before, albeit sans dogs and baby, but it wasn't too bad. I wrote the friend and offered to keep up the house until it sells but no reply as of yet. Considering the generous amount of space such house would provide, the idea almost feels wonderful. I am glad not to have heard anything yet. I do not expect said friend to be interested but the hope of the idea gave me enough fuel to get through the afternoon. I think I can handle disappointment better tomorrow. I been an optimist for decades...but the past year has demolished not only most of my coping mechanisms, my emotional and spiritual energy reserve, but that outlook on life as well.

A few days ago, I had a mental picture of fainting just before the finish line. I am glad the race is not for the strong and even yet I had concluded that if I am to cross the finish line, Jesus himself will have to carry me across. I am spent. Survival is a grand accomplishment; even that requires more than I possess to give. Hope deferred, and sick at heart.