Why I’m Silent

I wish I was filling these “pages” with fun pictures and happy tales of our new ‘normal’ with our 3 month old and almost 3 year old. There are plenty of things to laugh at, smile about, and be so grateful for. Elly and Beau are growing, healthy, and absolute joys. Spring is bending into summer and life is settling in to a beautiful, simpler rhythm. But while I want so badly to share those things, each time I can come close to bringing myself to write, I know what I’m penning is a collection of lies – the facade that all is well. And while circumstances may say that is true, my heart (and my head) say it’s not.

It’s back. The crippling, aching fog of a very unwelcome company in the form of depression.

I’ve been fighting since before I even delivered Beau. The last trimester for me was almost as trying as the first, then the days of emotional ups and downs after delivery scared and worried me that I was set to fight this battle again. So I did. I talked. I cried. I read. I PRAYED. I gave myself grace and time. Medicine was adjusted. I began getting my strength back after surgery and became more active. For a brief time, I thought I was going to beat it. I thought I was on top of it enough that I could “win” this time around.

I was wrong.

The last few weeks have been a downward spiral that mimics everything I experienced when post-partum hit after Elly. I’ve lost all motivation, sleep is my ultimate daily goal. My moods and weight are all over the place, uncontrollably. I can’t remember things and even have a hard time making a list. I have no interest in things I typically enjoy (like making lists) even if I was able to fight through the fog to try to do something for enjoyment (like keeping up with a blog) I couldn’t complete it. Self hatred and guilt are constant companions. Days are daunting, nights fitful and restless. The lead in my veins pulses fatigue and it’s as if everything I do to keep my head above water is mocking me.

I HATE admitting this. I’ve asked for prayer. I’ve talked to people about this ugly that is my life right now. I’ve pleaded with God to let this pass, to lighten my load. And finally I’ve had to resort to seeking the dreaded medicine change to try to get back to some semblance of myself.

I can’t believe I’m here again. I can’t believe I’m “losing” when I thought I was putting up a good fight. This is a painful reality though and maybe by admitting it, I can find some relief. I have to remind myself I’m not defined by this and that I’m not a bad person for having to go through it – that I don’t have to fake it. I also have to bury myself in God’s word, prayer and praise to attempt to trust that God hasn’t left me here – that somehow, hopefully soon – there will be less darkness.

I’m thankful for those who are praying and for a responsive doctor. I’m beyond grateful to my husband and family for putting up with me (again) as I wrestle this demon. And I seek hope every day in a God that is stronger and bigger than anything I will face during this time.

In the meantime? Survival mode. Again. I try to find (and record) the sweet, happy, or funny moments that do emerge out of the frustration. I don’t want to lose or take for granted what I have, but I also don’t want to live a lie. It is what it is right now and this is just part of my journey. Hopefully soon I can write about Elly’s funny anecdotes and Beau’s sweetness and even what’s happening on TV. Until then, bear with me and maybe say a prayer.

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