A Bit of Debris

I have been silent for a few. I can’t say it won’t happen again. In fact, it probably will.  It isn’t on purpose, really it isn’t, it is just how I am. I think if you follow this blog you have figured that out.

I have been struggling with a bout of depression stronger than any I can recently remember. It is like my mania (which is WAY out in left field. Many people think they know mania but unless you have experienced it, you have no clue. Think of making coffee with Red Bull; that is the tip of the ice berg. I can do anything when I am manic. I have unstoppable energy and I never sleep and when I do it is in spurts.) Anyway, getting back to the topic, the depression was so dark and horrible, it consumed me. I saw no light.

I truly and utterly wanted to die. I felt myself slipping further and further into the depression but I thought that me being me, my moods would change so I kept going. The problem was, this time they did not change. They did not bounce, they did not pivot. They just keep sinking further and further down. I found myself not having the energy to fight. And when I did, it made it worse.

I did not want to tell anyone because, let’s be honest, as of late, I am not exactly a glowing example of a “winner.”  I am currently unemployed (granted, it is no way my fault. I was laid off – the official story is it was a budget cut; the unofficial and real story is the Manager just does not like me and he found a legal way despite all my hard work, long hours and outstanding track record to get rid of me. This is something I have to get over) the recent hurricane caused a wee bit of emotional duress (OK, it caused a tad bit more that “wee.” I was not thrilled about leaving my home, I loved the idea of living in “God’s house” but I prefer living in my house; I had to leave my cats behind – it was the right thing to do but I stressed to the point my stomach was upset. I had even pictured in my head trying to prepare what I would come home to. ) I do not fear death. I don’t it is a part of life and for me, I know I could die at any time. I know where I am going and to be honest, I look forward to meeting my Father. However, I have an unhealthy fear of drowning. Yep. Shoot me, stab me, crash a car into me, beat me to a pulp, electrocute me, strangle me, gut me, poison me, suffocate me, burn me, etc. I do not worry about it. Drowning; however, I don’t want any part of it. Heck, truth be told, I don’t even like water in my face in the shower. Now imagine a week of water completely surrounding you on all sides of where you live. Yep, that was the hurricane. It was longer than that if you take into consideration the days it rained. I do take comfort in the fact that if you looked at an ariel photo, it looked like God drew a circle around our housing area and protected it ‘cuz there was water everywhere else. I was paranoid as each day passed. There were moments I literally could not breathe. (my husband and son were perfectly calm. Imagine me sharing my irrational panic with them.) I was crawling out of my skin!

We had three additional people living with us. Granted, I would open my home to any family. I would never complain about that. I know I would be grateful if someone opened their home to me if I had no where else to go. I can say; however, having an 8 year old, 10 year old and a 14 year old is quite an adjustment, especially when you have been without little ones for awhile. I had grown used to my “routine” and they sort of threw my routine way off (ok, truth be told, they didn’t just throw it off, they decimated it.) For someone who needs a little routine, I have to say, this situation caused me a little stress. My husband and son had work and school so they got time away. I didn’t. Finding food for them, keeping them occupied so they wouldn’t mindlessly stay on their electronic devices was nearly impossible. I felt bad because they had lost everything, they were not at their house (which I know I how I feel when I am not at my house) they missed their parents, I tried so hard to take everything into consideration. I think at some point, I had to stop. I wasn’t Burger King (it isn’t their way) and I wasn’t the Hilton (I wasn’t going to wait on you hand and foot.) The longer they stayed the more comfortable they felt trying to get away with things. I tried to understand. I did. It was hard for them. I felt bad. By the same token, there had to be boundaries. As each day passed, they grew more and more restless. I didn’t blame them, I did too. The day they left, I felt kind of sad. I felt sad until I went into the room they were staying in and saw the mess I had to clean up (which by the way, I still have to clean.)

Since I lost my job, I have had two deaths in my family. One was the sudden, tragic death of my cousin. I generally handle death (over all) well but his death I am not handling well. I have photos on my phone of him and part of me says I need to move them so I do not see them so often. He was such a huge part of my heart. No, I did not see him or talk to him as much as I would have liked or should have, but we were still close. He and his siblings helped shape who I am today. I have so many stories I could tell – both good and bad; funny and sad – he was a good kid and a good man. I also lost my uncle. He was my dad’s brother. I was close to him as a child not so much as an adult. Going to a family gathering – of any sort – of my dad’s family can be, well, gut wrenching. No seriously, it tears at your insides for reasons no one can possibly understand unless you are there. It also conjures up memories and feelings that I prefer to keep buried and hidden. I had nightmares for three days after that “funeral.”

My husband’s foot is causing him much pain and I cannot fix it. Finally, got him to go to the doctor. He will never know just how much it pains me when he is in mental or physical pain. I can “feel” it. My daughter has been stressing and it has been in overdrive. I think maybe, just maybe it has calmed a bit. Nothing I did, said or offered helped. Every single day, I would hear from her. She will never know how much it hurts a mother to hear their child in any kind of duress and not be able to stop it; make it better; calm them. The worse part is knowing they quit listening before you even started talking. My son – he is a good boy with a good heart – but he is as pigheaded and stubborn as they come. I try to keep him out of trouble, especially with his dad but he continues to be a determined, know it all, 17 year old who must do it his way (because he is of course, always right and mom is just stupid) so what can I do? Nothing. I don’t like strife between them. Generally what happens anytime someone in our house has a disagreement is they have whatever, then I hear about it. Boy do I hear about it. Like I can or would do something about it. Really? Here is the thing, they all forget sometimes, I do truly “feel” what they are feeling I feed off emotions. So when my mood is whack, things like that sends me off the deep end. It is not their fault, it is just how I am made.

There are other little things – my knee and thigh have been swelling. I don’t think it particularly healed correctly. Then, I only have myself to blame on that one. I worry about my aunt. A lot has been racing through my mind. Screwing up dinner when I try to cook it. Not completing tasks I start (sometimes it is because I have started so many I forget all of them) Did you know I have rewritten my resume like 4 times? I finally have my linked in page where it gets views every day now. Keeping up with job searches so can send to the state for unemployment benefits (which by the way they don’t actually look at.) I have researched and been implementing a new tactic  to keep the cats from pooping on the floor (I think it may actually be working.) Laundry – I believe laundry truly is the adult version of the never ending story. Cleaning – I have finally learned how to use bleach without it getting on my clothes and I’m in my late forties. I realized that the other day… and I need to finish my book BEFORE Christmas so I can get it published and give it to my husband for Christmas. Not because I am writing it for him; I’m writing it for me but because it is a gift from the heart.

In all this and more, I just kept spiraling down, down down. I could not find the strength to get up. I wasn’t digging. I even would go a day or two without showering (which could not possibly be a good thing because I smoke.) I did my best to pretend I was OK but I am pretty sure if you really knew me you knew I wasn’t. As each day passed, I cared a little less.

I would go to my prayer closet and kneel asking God to help me. I would pray for others and add to the prayer wall. I earnestly pray. I prayed scripture. And each day, I didn’t feel anything or hear anything. One day, I remember asking God was He there? Was He listening?

One day I realized I just did not care. Seriously, me, not caring. I’m not talking about a little less empathy here or there, I am talking about full blown not caring. I counted my pills; looked up intake vs. body weight ratio.  I played with guns – I realized the position of the gun and kick back of certain ones would make it nearly impossible to shoot myself clearly. The machetes could work to cut my arms and neck.  The fire I had built was mesmerizing.   I knew what in my garage could be used to accelerate  the fire so I could just pour it on myself and step into the blaze. Remember, I’d die of smoke inhalation long before I burned to death. I was driving to the store and I could picture just driving on the wrong side of the road. Normally I would feel bad about that particular thought process because it involves other people but then I didn’t. I didn’t care. I could smash my car into a big rig or a building or a wall. I knew how to accelerate my Envoy to speeds necessary to achieve optimal results.  You get the picture. I played scenario after scenario over in my head. The more I did, the more real and vivid they became. I even triple checked my life insurance policy; yes, it pays off for suicide so financial woes taken care off too boot.

Through it all, though, my faith may have shrunk a bit but I never lost it. I kept saying over and over and over, “mustard seed.”  When I didn’t say it or when I felt I couldn’t say it, there was a voice that whispered to me, “mustard seed.”  When people would say to me, “Oh honey, God has a plan.” or “I’m keeping you in my prayers” or “Keep praying” and I felt the urge to stab them in their jugular, there was always that little voice saying, “mustard seed.”

Even in the darkness when there was no light at all, I went to my prayer closet. I fell to my knees. I prayed. Though I did not always whole hardheartedly believe, I never lost my faith. One of the most powerful prayers I prayed, I do believe was simply, “God, I have no words. I have no tears. I am lost. Please, I beg, listen to my heart.”

Remember a while back when I told you about my meditation – when I go to my prayer closet when I can’t quiet my brain? When I picture myself in a boat… there is a hurricane on one side, a tornado on the other and a blazing fire behind me? I see the hand stretched out before me? Well, here is what happened this time…

I was in the boat. It was pouring down rain and I was soaking wet. The winds from the hurricane were tossing the boat like it was a stick. The tornado was launching debris at me like they were missiles. Every single time I got up, I was knocked down. I was battered and bruised. My back was scorched from the fire. My skin was blistered. Even with the rain, the fire penetrated. I was tossed in the water from the debris and when I climbed back in the boat, it all just kept coming. I could barely see in front of me, less alone make out anything. I tried to focus to find the outstretched hand of my Savior but stopping to look only made me unstable and down I went. The rain felt as though it were slicing me. It had to be gaining strength. Every single time I stretched out my hand hoping He’d grab hold, a bigger piece of debris from the tornado would fly and bash me. I was bleeding. The fire seemed to burn hotter. It all seemed to be growing stronger and closer. I was so close to just lying in the tattered boat and giving up when it happened. He came to me. He picked up my weary body and put me in His lap – like He does when I take His hand and step out of the boat – and wrapped His arms around me. He softly whispered, “I’ve got you now. Its just a bit of debris. We will ride the storms out together.” I closed my eyes and tried to speak but I couldn’t. I merely said, “mustard seed.” His only response was, “I know your heart, dear, I know your heart.” And as I lie there, the rain slowly stopped. The wind died down. There was no more debris and the fire went away.

I know my God never leaves me or forsakes me. I never pray for a lighter load, only a stronger back. Yes, I take my meds and sometimes get them adjusted. The most powerful thing I have in my life is my relationship with Jesus Christ. It will see me through everything I face no matter what and no matter how dark. For Him, it is all just a bit of debris.