when it doesn’t feel good

I don’t want to do it again. Life. It’s like trying to climb a mountain with two broken legs.  Like I am crawling on my belly with my weak arms attempting to pull myself up, only to fall back down again.    

I lay in bed.  My oldest has already left for school and I didn’t get to see her. I don’t even want to pray my usual “Jesus help”,  because I just don’t want to get up. I lay there until my baby wakes up. Even then, I feel like I can’t move, but my baby needs to be fed. (I whisper out loud before I even open my eyes, “Jesus”.)  I can feed my baby, I think to myself. I bring my legs out from beneath the covers and stare at them for a moment. I move my feet back and forth, not broken. They look healthy and ready for a new day.  So why is my brain not telling them to run and skip and jump and dance…..that they can do anything? Why instead is my brain sending messages that I am paralyzed, that I can’t do anything? Is that what is happening?  I don’t even know.

I feed my baby and change his diaper.  Does he have to get out of his jammies today?  I sure don’t want to get out of mine. But I need to put clothes on to take my middle to school.  I see my beautiful sign on the wall that a dear friend made for me. It reads, “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.  His love endures forever.” Psalm 107:1. Yes Lord you are good, I do believe that, but this does not feel good. I open my dresser drawer and stare.  Just. pick. something. Sweatpants, sweatshirt, hat, and slippers, my usual. I haven’t even had time for coffee yet. My middle asks if I can put her hair in a ponytail.  She probably wanted braids, but we don’t have time for that this morning. Because mom had a hard time getting out of bed.

I load baby in the car.  As we drive down the road I pray a prayer out loud I don’t feel like praying.  I thank God for this day, and ask Him to watch over my middle and that she would have a great day.  She thanks me for the ride. Now home to unload baby, and then what? Oh yeah food, I need to eat food, but I don’t want to.  So I start by making a cup of coffee and sitting down to write. I’ve been encouraged by my counselor, husband, and friends to write from this place, describe what it is like.  That feels hard, but I’m showing up to try.

I know my brain needs protein.  So I get up and make myself some eggs.  While I am standing over the stove, the power goes out.  I hear everything shut down. It only lasted for a few moments, then it all came back on again.  But it made me think that is kind of what depression feels like. The power has gone out in your brain, and you have no idea when it will come back on again.  Because what can you do when the power goes out? Not much. You light candles and hunker down until it comes back on. Not much you can do in the dark, but sit and wait.  The tough thing about depression though is that this is all happening internally, and doesn’t often show itself on the outside. You may look well and capable. No one can see what feels to you like broken legs, or what feels like a power outage.  

I sit down to eat my eggs on toast and I take a deep breath and say, “Thank you Jesus for this food”, and I hear,

I am the way, the truth, and the life. 

You are going where I am taking you Beloved, make no doubt about it, you are going where I am taking you.  Lean into me Beloved, I am everything you need. I never tire of you leaning into me. I am not human that I should grow weak or weary, and I never grow tired.  I don’t need sleep. I am rest. My yoke is easy and my burden is light. Continue writing, it is your strength, and a strength I have given to you. All writers are different Beloved.  Don’t compare yourself to any other writer out there, there is no need. You are unique. Your story is unique. Your writing is unique.