In January 2015 I faced my second battle with depression. Not that the first one ever really ended. The battle of depression doesn’t have an experation date. It’s always treading right below the surface.
There’s a moment, a fleeting moment when you think, I’ve got this. Ain’t no thing like a little 10 letter word gonna chew me up.
And then. There’s always an and then. The world keeps moving. It moves in leaps and bounds around me. It moves to a different tune then I hear.
The world hurts me with its happiness. It hurts me with its pain. Always sending something spiraling toward me, cracking me down the middle. Taking parts of my heart with it, taking parts of my soul.
Do you think it’s easy?
I can tell you that they love me. The people around me, I mean. I can tell you that and believe it.
And I can tell you I’m ok with being alone in this season of my life and when I say it, I’ll mean it.
What I don’t believe is that I belong. That I have a place in this little life of mine, that I actually matter. That outside of everything I may have to offer -it might be all that keeps me present: the things I can give.
What happened to showing up for other people? What happened to offering out a hand.
There are still mornings I contemplate if it’s worth getting out of bed that day. There are still afternoons I sit in parking lots in tears.
Who do I call then? Who will pick up the phone and say, “You’re ok. You’re ok. I’m here, I’m right here.”
If I could pin it on a map, if I could label the entirety of my heartache with a tiny blue push pin would I be able to contain it? Would I be able to point and say, there, right there – that’s when I started to break, that’s when I started to loose?