10/ 11/ 2017
This morning I sat in the Costco parking lot and cried. I pulled myself together enough to get some chicken and Zyrtec, but I had to wear sunglasses inside because I didn’t trust my eyes. A tear creeped out while I paid and when Zeke reached to give me a hug, the floodgates opened again. I sobbed as I pushed my cart across the parking lot. Wishing a stranger would stop and give me a hug. I just needed someone to look me in the eye and tell me it would be okay.
I’m trying to convince myself it’s because I’ve been to the pediatrician four times in the past week.
Because we’ve had three cases of double pink eye,
two double ear infections,
two sore throats,
a bladder infection,
and now hives.
I’m trying to tell myself it’s my circumstance.
But deep, deep down I know it’s not.
I’m not good at self-care. I’m not good at putting myself first when so many other things seem more important. I don’t know how. I have moments where I get centered, but then I’m back at square one. Grasping for calm like I’m falling down a mountain. I’m reading, I’m praying, I’m breathing, but I’m stuck. And stuck is not where I want to be.
I am so blessed to have so much love, support and patience around me, but I can’t ask for help because I don’t know where to start. How do you ask for help with something you can’t describe? How do you say,
“I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m sad again. I’m really sad. I think it’s because I don’t take time to recharge. I think it’s because I focus all my energy on taking care of everyone else I forget to take care of me. And I know I’m taken care of but that’s different than taking care of yourself. I’m too tired to edit, which makes me feel like a failure. Because when I don’t make the time to edit at the end of a really long day, I feel like maybe videos aren’t my passion or I’m not pushing hard enough. And maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m lazy or maybe I’m scared. Or maybe I’m just not good enough.
I don’t know how you “fix” the sadness – the depression. Everything I read talks about self-care but how do you self-care when you don’t know what it looks like for you? Is it writing? Is it editing? Is it painting my nails? WHAT IS IT? Is self-care letting myself stop and rest? But then is my rest indulgence instead of care? How do I know if I’m helping or hurting? Why can’t someone hold my hand through this and tell me how to take care of myself so I know.
Why don’t I know?
How do you know?
Is it like falling in love? Do you just happen upon it one day? Does it smack you in the face one random Tuesday night and say, “HELLO! I’VE BEEN HERE WAITING FOR YOU.”
How do you find it? How do you know you’ve found it?
I just want to know what it looks like.
I’m desperate for its face.
I’m just so thick in the forest I can’t see the trees, but I know I’ve been on the other side. I know I’ve been there and I know it was good. I don’t know why I keep getting lost. Are my woods some kind of mind maze? What I would give to have a helicopter with a rescue light and a rope ladder hovering above me right now. But that’s not how this works. I have to keep finding my way out over and over again. Sometimes I’ll be able to get out fast and unscathed. But there will be times, like now, where I have to fight for the light every day. Where I walk and turn and walk and turn and pray with all my heart I’m going the right way.
– – –
I know it’s not #fun to read about depression without some type of resolve. It’s not inspiring. It’s not enlightening. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it a thousand times more:
We need to talk about our struggles while we’re in the middle of them so we know we’re not alone.
We don’t all exit our mazes at the same time. Some are in the beginning, some are lost in this weird circle that keeps producing dead ends, and some are on the outside, waiting, hoping, and cheering. Just because we’re not in the same spot doesn’t mean we can’t walk home together.
If you wait for me, I’ll wait for you.