writing

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

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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. 

Back to the Grind

Hi all!!!! Well fellow bloggers and WP enthusiasts, I’m back from the lone star state and my inpatient treatment for depression. I ended up staying 5 weeks and it was a very beneficial time! 

  
I so much appreciate those of you who have checked in and especially for the prayer I know some of you offered on my behalf. The bonds we form as people – even through the cyber world – are always amazing to me! 

I’ve been back home for a week now and trying to figure out how to reenage with my blog. Not sure why this has been a challenge, but this morning I thought I’d just dive in with no agenda. 

I haven’t read any of my previous posts from before I left but I’m feeling like I did a lot of whinning and complaining before. Not sure if that is actually true, but it’s my recollection. In any event I’d like to take a more positive approach so will work on that. 😉

One of the changes I have worked on is being more open with my wife, Marie. I was able to communicate home daily during my stay. At first we fell into our old pattern of me withdrawing and her pursuing and then getting frustrated and angry with me and me withdrawing even more. 

About half way through my stay, my therapist at the hospital had me call her during a session and tell her some things about my depression that I hadn’t shared with her. Maybe I hadn’t shared some of these things with you either.

For the last three (plus) years I had frequent, almost constant thoughts that I didn’t want to go on living – that I’d like to just go to sleep and not wake up – dreading another 40 years of life. 

More recently, late in the summer I began having more intrusive thoughts of suicide. I didn’t want to act on these and didn’t have any plan, but these thoughts continued to grow. 

I really and truly have been close enough to others in my profession to witness how devistating suicide is to families and friends. I liken it to taking that person’s problems and giving them all to each of the people close to him and thus exploding the same suffering exponentially to others. 

I would not place this burden on my family. This is what really led me to seek more intensive treatment. 

Since then, I have felt so much more open with Marie and she has been receptive, supportive and loving. This has continued since I’ve been home. But almost more important I have been turning to her and opening up to her (which I think maybe is all she wanted in the first place). It has felt good to open up to her and she has listened well. I hope this is something we can continue to build on. 

More importantly, I have been for drawing closer to God the last 2 months; closer than I have been in a long time. With nothing to do but work on myself for so long, I picked up the bible … for me. I read for me, and started falling in love again. More in this later!

It’s good to be back fellow bloggers and friends!  

Grace and Peace!! 

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.