Stop Fighting and Be Still.

Mar 15, 2015 | 8 comments

Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
~Exodus 14:13-14 (NIV)

I suffer from depression. This isn’t something I used to talk about. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, because I’m still here. But it’s definitely something misunderstood. And most people are afraid and embarrassed about it, whether it’s happened to them or someone they love.

I’m still here. Which means I’m strong enough to get through that one-more-moment that I needed to get through. But what about the next time? Will I be strong enough then?

Being strong hurts. It hurts not having someone else to lean on, to help pick up the pieces of a fractured heart, or scream happiness with. It hurts to be the one, and not have the one.

Do you ever think about the percentage of creative people who deal with depression and other “disorders”? I believe it’s because we feel things much deeper than average people. Artists of any media are particularly susceptible to opening ourselves up to a life that wounds us to the core. Feeling terrible is better than not feeling at all, and feeling it at such a depth makes the creativity that much more powerful.

When I’m affected by the chasms and peaks of life, I see it more broadly than I can express, except through emotion. I find beauty in hurts and puzzles in rays of sunshine.

I feel more deeply and am more confused by the beauties of this life than I can ever begin to explain. I don’t search for the darkness, but neither am I always afraid of it.

I’ve struggled through some horrendous moments and I’m lucky to be alive. I don’t share the details of my story with a lot of people, because I never know how they’ll react.

There’s a certain vulnerability with letting someone have the keys to your destruction, and trusting them enough to not use it against you.

That’s not my saying. I stole that gem of wisdom from my writing mentor.

In the context of a good book, the characters need to be flawed and need to struggle with each other. In the context of life, it’s a lot more complicated, and a lot more unsettling, and doesn’t always wrap up neatly.

Mostly, life is good and I’m okay. But now and then, something, or a collection of somethings, will trigger that stress in me and try as I might, I can’t always “put on a happy face”.

Depression has its own set of rules that unless you’ve been there, you can’t possibly navigate. Well-meaning people have tried to control or change me. They don’t realize it’s not as simple as that.

I’m not discounting the benefits of avoiding triggers and trying to make things better. But depression is an internal event.

Here are just a few gems from people who haven’t been there:

“If you just stopped thinking about it, you’d be happier.”
“Get some rest. Things will be better in the morning.”
“Have you tried vitamins?”
“Doctors don’t know everything. You should see someone else.”
“Medications only make it worse.”
“You need a change of scenery. Why don’t you get out for the day or take a weekend vacation?”
And what I find to be the most hurtful: “You just don’t have enough faith.”

There’s also the struggle to identify a cause. Many times, my depression is provoked by something nameless. It’s a constant presence, in the shadowy corners, just waiting to be recognized. It’s its own thing, caused by nothing and solved by nothing else.

The best a person with depression can sometimes hope for is just to breathe through the moment.

I say again, I’m lucky. Through years of hard work, self observance, and a decent group of friends to support me, I’ve learned to identify my triggers and my solutions.

I’ve learned to monitor my body. If I’m not eating healthy enough or sleeping enough, that can make my thoughts a little less clear. Which makes it hard to filter out the negative thoughts.

I know the difference between having a glass of wine with dinner, and going out to a bar so I don’t have to stay home alone. Self-medicating isn’t just about medicines. It can also be food, TV, thought patterns . . . whatever a person uses to feel better.

I’ve learned that the most important thing I can do is reach out. It’s also the hardest. My depression embarrasses me. I’m a typically joyful, outgoing person. I love nothing more than to be surrounded by people whether it’s church, fellow writers, or even my favorite clients from the day job.

I also don’t like to bring other people down. I don’t want to explain myself or disappoint my friends. I don’t want to hear someone’s outside opinion of what I’m doing wrong. So I keep to myself. Or I hide it behind the fake smiles and the hugs and the I’m-Doing-Fine’s.

And I keep hiding. Until it’s bigger than I can handle. Until something’s gotta give.

“Stop forcing a catastrophe where there’s not even a storm.”

I’m lucky to have friends who have known me long enough to realize my triggers before I sometimes do. Friends who can talk me down from the ledge when I didn’t know I’d even stepped out. And I’m lucky those friends were there for me this weekend.

I wasn’t in physical danger, but I was certainly not in a good place. What I thought was just fatigue and anxiety had combined with, as they pointed out, the exorbitant amount of stress from the last few months until I stopped fighting the triggers. I began barking at people with an unfiltered vocabulary. I broke promises. I was ready to fight almost everyone in my path. And I didn’t care.

Depression can garble thoughts. What I think is right in the moment, isn’t. Who I think is against me, isn’t. But I can’t recognize what’s right, or I don’t want to admit the embarrassment of misunderstanding. Even if it’s fleeting. Even if it’s undeserved. Apologizing for being irrational is a painful and humiliating experience. So I don’t.

I just can’t seem to get this life-thing right. So the depression grows. And I keep it to myself.

My depression comes with its own trust issues. It’s hard to know who to talk to, who to tell what to, and who to listen to. Do they really understand me? Do they have my best interests at heart? Or do they want to “help” me to feel superior about themselves? They’ve not been here, they’ve not had these thoughts. How can they possibly understand.

I tried to read my Bible for that whisper of hope and direction. I just heard the words “Be still.” Which I couldn’t do. I mean, I’m depressed, right? Which means I’m anxious. My legs are bouncing while I’m sitting. Or I’m up, pacing the floor. Or sitting on the bench practicing my steady breathing and hoping not to hyperventilate.

If one more person asks how I’m doing then keeps walking instead of waiting for a real answer, I’m gonna lose it.

I didn’t want to lose it. I had to find a way to fight this. I had to find a way to get back to being me. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone because this is different than who I was ten or twenty years ago. They won’t see that. They’ll just see this and think same ol’ same ol’.

And then I found it. Exodus 14:13-14. Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

Just as God led Moses to the Red Sea, He led me to my shore. He parted the stormy waters so that whatever was threatening them in their future vanished, and He promised that what was troubling them in their past would remain in their past. He didn’t promise them a perfect tomorrow. He just promised them a way out for now.

Stop. Take a breath. You asked for my help, and I’m here. Now. In this moment.

And in that moment, with my trusted friends, I was able to securely reach out and know, it’s gonna be okay. They’re not judging me based on past moments. They’re not judging me at all.

They’re just reaching back.

December 8, 2014

My depression is something I will always have to live with. Most of the times, it’s dormant, hidden, controlled. When it isn’t, I have to learn it’s okay to stop fighting myself and others. I don’t always have to keep this a secret.

And I don’t have to be ashamed.

This weekend I realized I have too much to say. I’ve been quiet for too long. It’s time to be authentic and reach out, so others can reach back.

Tonight I feel just a little less lonely. And I think I’m gonna sleep better than I have for a while.

And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

You may also enjoy reading:
Before You Pray
2015: HOPE
It’s Complicated, Part Two: Christianity

Sweeten my tea and share:

Writer, Blocked

Mar 1, 2015 | 2 comments

For several months, I’ve not been writing. At least not to the extent I was last summer.
It wasn’t writer’s block, exactly. I had a lot to say. I just got in my own way of saying it.

The thought had come upon me that what I had to say was far less valuable than what others had to say. That my words were less worthwhile than life.

I stumbled over the thought that perhaps

I am insignificant.

I’ve been going through the motions, attending critique groups, writers club, and special events. I’ve been editing and socializing and marketing and networking and doing all the things a successful writer does . . . except writing.

There are some moments that belong to others, stories I shouldn’t share. Seasons that are too personal to blog about. And life that moves too quickly to put it on paper.

February brought adventure into my world that I didn’t know it needed. Not only did Dot get engaged, they are already married and next week, heading to Seattle for a great opportunity for both of them. I’m utterly sad to see them leave, but it’s with open arms that I can let them go, and embrace the new part of my life.

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
~ A. A. Milne, “Winnie the Pooh”

I was suffocated with a momentary fear that I don’t know how to be my own person. I’ve lived my live so consistently for other people . . . what will it be like to live alone?

And I saw the doors open on a new horizon.

I’m already chatting with WinCo Foods to create new #CookingForOne recipes.
My friends want me to share my journey of being pushed into an Empty Nest so quickly.
I’ve discovered that girlfriends, writers, and God are more important now than before.
There’s no lack of writing material for this new life.

I’m going to turn the extra room into a media/workout room.
I can write late into the evenings without interruption.
I’m able to stay out later, go out more often, and do more things because there’s not a second person’s schedule or dinner plans to coordinate with.

I’m no longer a single mom. I’m just single. And I’m okay with that.

Of course, I still have five cats and writing and home improvement projects. Those haven’t changed. But I’m seeing life differently.

I’m seeing it boldly and in living color.
I’m seeing HOPE.

HOPE superimposed over acrylic painting of a peacock

HOPE is the thing with feathers . . .

Later this month, I’m having an Empty Nest party to celebrate my new adventures.

And I’ve decided that celebrating every day is an adventure in itself.

And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

You may also enjoy reading:
2015: HOPE
But I’m not good enough to attend a Christian writers conference . . .
Winco Wins
I am Defined. And I am a Mystery.

Sweeten my tea and share:

Before You Pray

Feb 18, 2015 | 4 comments

Isaiah 65:24 (NIV) reads

“Before they call I will answer;
while they are still speaking I will hear.”

I’ve always believed, because God is outside of space and time, that He has already heard the prayers the future me will pray.

For quite a few months last year, I struggled with morning anxiety. Waking up was painful as I was faced with so many unknowns: the deteriorating health of loved ones, incomplete projects, financial instability, family schedules . . . the list goes on and on.

I was unable to really write or even blog. I struggled with what to share and who to share it with.

I continued to pray in moans that only the Holy Spirit could interpret for me, knowing that God had a plan and even though I may not see it, it is good.

My Life Verse ~ Jeremiah 29:11

In retrospect, I can see how everything happens for a reason. In retrospect, I understand that I was getting in my own way.

I found this reminder note in my desk drawer at work and posted it to my private Facebook page, but I want to share it here, too, because, well, quite frankly, it needs to be shared.

December 8, 2014

On the morning of December 8th, 2014…
When I was waking every morning with anxiety
When I had writers block
Before Rick finally went to his heavenly home
Before Alex asked for my blessing to marry Hannah
Before I was blessed with finances for TWO important writers conferences
Before I started grocery shopping for one
Before I had health insurance
Before I picked up a paying client for media/marketing
Before our lives were shaken, stirred, pressed but not crushed, running over …
Before all these great and glorious moments, on the morning of December 8, 2014, I had a Heavenly dream. God put His calming hand on my shoulder and spoke to my soul and said, “It’s going to be all right. I hear you, and I’m already working on it.”

I am reminded every moment that God is a personal God, that He cares about every part of my being, that He is making me whole.

He cares about you, too. He’s already heard your prayers. And He’s already working on it.

And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

You may also enjoy reading:
But I’m not good enough to attend a Christian writers conference . . .
2015: HOPE
It’s Complicated, Part Two: Christianity
More or Less: 29 Words
“As Long As You Love Me”

Sweeten my tea and share:

The Reason I’ve Not Blogged Lately

Feb 5, 2015 | 2 comments

It’s 6:37 am. I’ve been awake for just a few minutes, and need to get ready for the day job. There’s so much I have to tell y’all, so many updates for #DoingTheWriteThing and for life.

We’ve been stretched to breaking, put back together, and redirected. If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you might have an idea. It’s quick to post a short status or a wordless photo that seems to capture a moment.

It’s been hard to get the words out. No. That’s not true. I’ve been posting quite a lot on my private Facebook page. But here . . . what do I write/not write?

I don’t have time today to give you all the details, so here’s the headlines:

In December, a dear friend, my male mentor, my “Church father” passed away after a long struggle with cancer.
Throughout January, God has been throwing me into writing and opening up networking possibilities. He is definitely answering prayers in bold and specific ways.

But the best and biggest item on our knock-the-socks-off list is this:

Engaged!

My daughter’s boyfriend came over a week ago Tuesday “to ask a question”.

And that’s all the time I have this morning. This weekend I’ll get you caught up. In the meantime, we’re planning a wedding.

And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

Sweeten my tea and share:

2015: HOPE

Jan 1, 2015 | 4 comments

A few months ago, I knew what I needed my word for 2015 to be.

The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize how perfect it is for my world.

HOPE is the thing with feathers . . .

I created this graphic from a photo of the peacock Dot painted for me. She finished it over a month ago but I asked her to give it to me for Christmas. The peacock is my symbol for 2015. It’s the colors of Mardi Gras. It’s the King of birds. It’s full of dignity, power, and of course, hope.

Next week’s Five Things Friday post will be full of more hope.

Today, I’m waking up and starting with a deep, cleansing breath.

Hope is an intangible that makes things tangible. It’s the elusive thing that makes all other things possible.

Even in my worst moments, I am okay, because I fundamentally have hope in the very core of my being, telling me that things will get better. When life crashes down, when the world crumbles and shakes into oblivion, Hope is one of the three things that remains.

Hope is what keeps us going, whether we feel like it or not.