Dreary and grey

It's a dreary, grey day here. It's been like this for most of the week. We've had snow and then brilliant sunlight that doesn't last, and more snow. It's been a good week for me to "hibernate." But I can't keep doing that forever.

I realized not long after Shannon's diagnosis that I was dealing with some depression. I wanted to deal with the difficult side of things, but I was afraid that I'd get stuck in the darkness. But, see, I already was stuck. I don't do the crawl-under-the-covers-and-don't-shower-for-days depression. I do the put-on-my-make-up-mask-and-pretend-everything's-okay-while-finding-inordinate-number-of-time-wasters-to-avoid-painful-reality depression. So, because I was vertical, getting up and dressed everyday, taking the kids to school, and so forth, I was thinking that I wasn't depressed. Wrong.

The laundry is piled up so high that it could trigger "the BIG one" if it falls over. It's all clean, but good luck finding a matching pair of socks. Dinners have been hit-and-miss. Mostly miss. Though I get things thawed out so Bruce has something to go on when he gets home. Can't remember the last time I vacuumed anything or cleaned a bathroom. I guess, considering all the emotional stuff, I'm doing pretty good--clean laundry, a dinner plan, dishes done. Maybe I really *shouldn't* be so hard on myself?

I get caught up in trying to stay balanced. How do I acknowledge and deal with the darkness without being sucked into it? How do I hurt and see blessings at the same time? How do I manage any of this, much less ALL of it?

A dear friend gave me a massage on Thursday. She's a truly gifted person, able to read a body and know what's up, very intuitive. She knew I needed to cry, and I swear, she found the "cry" button almost immediately. She gave me a safe outlet to release some of that while helping my body physically release too. What we talked about and what I thought about brought me some interesting conclusions.

I'm a road map and reservation kinda girl. I don't just go on a trip without knowing exactly where we're headed, how long we'll be there, and which hotel or RV park we'll be staying in. I do that in other areas of my life, but this new adventure doesn't have a map, and I'm having a hard time with that.

How can I be strong enough for this?
How will I manage the kids' diabetes and Shannon's gluten-free life? Especially since I can't even manage laundry right now!
Where will I find the tools I need?
How will I regain my balance?
How will I find the time and energy for the things that bring me joy?

The future is a big murky cloud, much like the one currently obscuring the view of my mountains.

Wait a second....

The future's *always* been a big murky cloud. I just had a comfortable delusion that I had some control over it. I don't now, and I never did. Yes, it's more complicated now, but who's to say there wouldn't have been other complications? Maybe that's part of what I'm struggling with.....are there still more complications coming at me?

So, I laid on that massage table and blubbered. Really, it wasn't pretty. But that's okay. Life isn't always pretty, and I'm glad for that. As I thought about these questions and doubts, I began to sense reassurance. I was telling myself to breathe in confidence and trust and breathe out doubt and fear. And guess what? I began to feel more confident and trusting; less doubtful and fearful.

I don't know how, but I know I WILL figure this out. I don't know HOW or WHEN, but I know that the tools and resources, not to mention courage and strength will be there when I need it. I know, too, that this darker time won't last forever. It's a season and, in the face of everything, it's normal. I won't slip too far down that road. I won't let myself (been there, done that, NEVER AGAIN), but more importantly, the love I have for my children and husband won't allow me to go there. They need me. They need me to be strong and able and loving and present. Sure, I can be weak and angry and out of it for a short time, but there's a fundamental maternal pull that won't let all of that interfere in their lives for too long.

And, there are lots and lots of people out there who won't let me slip quietly into the darkness either. My dearest friends, both near and far, know that depression is sometimes an issue for me. They worry and they call and they pester and they pray. They're not going to let me go. They listen and love and pop up in chat windows to ask if I ate breakfast today, and no, the milk in my coffee doesn't count!

I think, too, that I've matured (I certainly hope so). I've gained a bit of self-awareness and insight and wisdom. That devastating depression in my 17 yo suicidal self was so incredibly devastating precisely because it was new and so very very dark. I didn't know then what I know now. I didn't know that there was a way through it; there was light and life on the other side. I didn't know that I could survive and come out of it a better person. All I saw then was darkness going on forever. Now I know all those things.....yes, this is a dark, sad place. But it won't last forever. There is light and love out there and it's closer than I realize. I can trust in that wisdom. Again, I don't know the 'how' of it all; I don't know the lessons and strength I'll gain, but I do know, without a doubt that it will come.