The rain pelted the windows that morning. The dim light shined through the windows and reminded me that the sun would not appear today. I snuggled in further to the warm bed and started the habitual morning debate:
“Get out of Bed Angela!”
“I don’t wanna” as I shoved my face under the covers.
It was Sunday, the day for worship with fellow believers and to learn more about the man I love. Of all the days of the week, shouldn’t this one be different? However, a brick the size of Texas had settled itself on my chest and my limbs no longer had the strength to pull me up.
Eventually, I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and sat up. It was too late to make it to my usual service, but if I hurried I could make it to the 11 am. My legs didn’t move, any will I had, had been used just to sit up. Life had lost all its meaning, all its joy and all its purpose.
I finally shuffled into the kitchen as my roommate left for church:
Roommate: “Are you coming this morning?”
Me: “I don’t think so, I feel like I just need a down day.” I shrank inside as the words escaped my lips. I had been needing a lot of those lately.
Roommate: “Ok, but if it is the depression, don’t let it win!” she walked out into the rain.
I watched her drive away and plodded back to my room.
The argument resumed: “You should go.” “I don’t want to go”. “Then get up and do something productive.” “why there is no point”. For a split second my will returned and I found myself slipping into a pair of jeans. Then I collapsed into a heap and began to sob uncontrollably.
“God, why did you make me this way? What possible purpose could I serve when the act of brushing my teeth is more than I can handle most days?” Silence, not even an echo from the void inside. I felt Him wrap His arms around me and I continued to cry.
“Lord heal me, please.” I begged. “Make me different.”
He rocked me back and forth.
After a while I rose, and plodded around the house. I got dressed, ate, watched TV, and played solitaire on my phone. Christmas was coming soon, so I forced myself to work on presents. I love Christmas and look forward to carefully crafting each present I get. But the joy of the season was no where to be seen.
All this time I held the tears at bay and attempted to ignore the uncontrollable outburst that morning. Soon my roommate strolled in from her busy day and sat down on the steps.
“How was your day?” She asked.
It all spilled out. The growing complacency with life, the desire for it all to just be over. I finally admitted I was depressed and I needed help.
That is when the defeat set in.
I couldn’t beat this without medication and I no longer had the strength to beat myself up about it. (I might write about this another time)
The next month was spent gasping for air each day as I waited to see my doctor, waited for the medication to kick in, waited for the side effects to abate. I am one of the lucky ones, it only took me about two months to find the right medication and the right dosage. By the end of January I was starting to level out. My world was looking much brighter, and I began to find hope again.
I still struggle with side effects from the drugs, my hands have an uncontrollable shake that affect my ability to take pictures. The weight gain through the depression and then the drugs was horrible. But my Lord has carried me through.
You may be thinking, ‘My Lord, aren’t the drugs the ones that helped her?’ Yes the drugs helped. But my Lord was the one who held me that day in November. He is the one who pulled me out of bed each morning and pushed me out the door. His peace and comfort are the only things that kept me away from suicide. And His eternal Hope gave me a light to focus on as I clawed my way out of the pit.
The depression may have won the battle, but My Lord has won the war.