Sunday Sundries: What is God Doing?

A continuation of last week’s Sunday Sundries: What is God doing here, and how can I be a part? 

God is always at work, always involved. We might not like that he lets things happen sometimes and I don’t want to get into good and evil in a Sundry post.

But know in the good, and in the bad, and in the indifferent He is at work. Changing YOU the believer to be more like Christ. 

“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion” Philippians 1:6


What My Depression Feels (Felt) Like

I wrote this on my first day of inpatient treatment last month. It seems like a different world. Thankfully I am no longer in this place in my mind and hope to not go back! 

What Depression Feels Like

To me depression feels like nothing, nothingness. A heavy nothing to walk through, to look at, to listen to and to carry.

Depression is negative energy. It pulls the life from life, takes the joy from joy, takes the love from love; the result is death and sorrow and loneliness – and nothing. 

There is no purpose to life, to living, to even trying; try for what? 

Meaningless, meaningless . . . 

So I like to sleep. Sleep is nothing. I don’t dream much anymore. I like to drink. It removes sorrow and loneliness and leaves a feeling of dreamy ambivalence. 

To me, sometimes it feels like I’m floating in space. Head floating. Brain floating or being slowly pressed. Pressure . . . 

My chest feels the same, like I’m out of breath, but breathing isn’t a problem, it’s floating pressure. 

Sleep is the cure, the escape.

My brain feels full, like an overfilled Tupperware, pressing on the lid and contents overflowing, squeezing out. Memory is sporadic, concentration comes and goes. Reading and writing are a diversion from reality.  

Concentration for decision-making is hard. Distractions are time killers. To refocus and get back on task takes immense effort. 

Productivity has declined to almost non-existent. There’s no point to start. The finished product is meaningless. I can sit and just stare for hours, in nothingness, then sleep. 

Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t wake up, or I’d just die in some way. Living is a drudge, like walking through mud, heavy, pointless, meaningless, nothing. __________________

I’m no longer at this place. But I want to remember it. I’m still cleaning the mud off my shoes and know the danger still exists. I’m fighting for my life and for my family and for my Creator. 

I have a lot to live for. A lot to work for. 

I Want to Trust You

The fact is I want to trust you, but I don’t. You’re my wife for goodness sake, how can I not trust you?

Marie, I know you are feeling the brunt of my depression. I know you haven’t seen your husband – the real guy you married – in a long long long time. I know I’ve been distant, unengaged, I’ve pushed you out physically, emotionally.

I’m sure you feel as though I’m a burden right now. I’m sure you are feeling as though I’m abandoning you right now. I’m fairly sure you are feeling resentment toward me for leaving right now to get treatment. You have expressed to me you don’t want or think I need to go. I know you are scared.

But the thing I am coming to terms with, painfully, is that I don’t trust you.

When you get up before me in the morning, I don’t know the mood you’re in. Will I get coffee bedside, or will I get abruptly woken with an impatient list of todo’s and questions about my day?

When I confess something from deep in my heart, will you store it and bring it out later to hurt me?
What hurts the most this week is this. I was really trying to keep my upcoming treatment a secret from the world. However, as I decide to share what I am gong through with friends and family, I have  felt overwhelming support. “Good for you”, “That is so brave”, “I’ve been through something similar, let me share with you”,”I wish you had told me sooner.”

But from you – “I feel like you don’t want to be here. This isn’t the best thing for our family right now”

Marie, it saddens me to say, I don’t think I trust you . . . with my heart.

I wish I could cry, but I can’t. I physically can’t.

T -4 days to admission

If you read my post In-Patient Treatment a Go then you know why I bought this nice new pair of [laceless] Skechers!

Next week I’ll enter a month long inpatient treatment facility for depression. I’m looking forward to going. I look forward to times away. I recognize this isn’t healthy, but it’s true.

Therapy appointment coming up this morning. My “friend” Dr. S is all over me (In a therapeutic way!) She asked me last time if I want to stay married? “Not always”

Is the reason you stay married because of religious beliefs? “Partly, my parents have been married for over 50 years. I have a fundamental belief in marriage.”

Why did you get married? “How much time do you have? We had fun together, great sex, I felt a sense of obligation toward her and her kids after a while, I probably had some sort of savior complex seeing a woman in distress.”

I love my wife. I give her a bad rap on my blog because I don’t give you all the good stuff. She isn’t selfish, in fact she gives of herself in service to our family and others tirelessly.

Is there something called Emotionally Selfish? I wonder which one of us fits this title?

Well fellow bloggers and marital sanity enthusiasts, this is not at all the direction I was intending to take this morning.

This should be enough fodder to satisfy your insatiable appetite for at least a little while!