I am not sure I've been in this position since high school and even then, I honestly don't think it was quite this bad. Most of it was situational back then. Before these past few weeks, it was also mostly situational, though some was hormonal and some was that bit of darkness that follows me everywhere, always.
This is different.
Somehow, it's not so much the little things that swell up and bother me as it is the giant wave of darkness I seem to be riding day after day. The ebb and flow conquer any thought that I might just be making it after all. I'm not.
I smash the little things onto a plate and stick them under a microscope to verify that they are really the little things and not the entirety of my state: Five children under 9. Homeschool. Wavering business. Desire to move. Rejection from extended family. Feelings of failure. Wanting to write more than I can.
But feed it I do. With the little things. The salt to add flavor and flair. I fool myself into believing that if I just think some of these things through, get my feelings out about them, it will make everything better. But it doesn't. Only worse.
So there it is; that pesky darkness. It has become much more than the science project I wish it were. It's hiding in every crevice of my life. It's there when I shut my eyes and when I open them in the morning. I regret getting out of bed daily. I keep hearing those words from a Cymbalta commercial running through my head: "depression hurts." That it does. That it freaking does. But I don't think Cymbalta can help.
Really. I've thought about this a million times. I've prayed about it. I've gone back and forth about taking some synthetic drug to make it through the days without feeling this way in such voracious intensity that sometimes I feel like I'm drowning. I've noticed that this descent has coincided with a shift in my spiritual life; one that has taken me a little bit backward. I need more prayer. I need Jesus Christ. I need His healing voice in my soul. I haven't had it lately. I've been craving it. I try to pray and my heart freezes up. I try to listen and all I hear is the white noise in my head.
I just got this book called A Garden of Visible Prayer, by Margaret Rose Realy, which is a guide to help you create a sacred space that will truly usher you, even in the design and execution of said space, in drawing closer to God. I have a prayer garden right now but I hardly enter it. It's not what I want it to be. I'm hoping this book, along with the help of my landscaper-hubby, will actually guide me in creating a space that is better-suited to my needs.
Until then, maybe I'll revert back to more exercise and consuming placenta pills, and try to find a few extra quiet moments in which to divert my spiritual life back on track. I also feel I should meditate on these verses:
Psalms 40:1-3 I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
Psalms 42:11 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
Please pray for me, my friends.