Still breathing

 I have been afraid to write. Writing is a window to the secret places of my soul. I expose things that otherwise stay tucked away. I'm not sure I want to be that vulnerable and then I think, someone else is equally vulnerable. There are people holding secrets in hidden corners that need to feel a connection to someone. Somehow. Here we are. Connecting in the safety of anonymity. ❤️

I'm really battling depression. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder by a doctor a few months back. 6 months ago, actually. I know that because I strategically dodged the appointment a few weeks ago. At first she recommended that I stay on medicine for 6 months. Then she said a year. I weaned myself off the medicine when I realized I was gaining weight and have never made it back to see her. She's a good doctor, but I'm afraid she will make demands of me that I'm unwilling to commit to, like take medicine for a year that makes me crazier than I am right now. 

So I fight it away. Once I quit sugar for about a month. It was as if the clouds rolled away. It really worked. I woke up with energy and hope and purpose every day. Then I felt good enough to break the sugar fast. Now three months later here I am fighting off the darkness, after a donut for breakfast. It's not a one time deal, mind you, the donut doesn't bring it, the addiction to sugar opens the gates for the dreaded sadness, the ache to stay in bed all day, the need to seclude.

You'd never guess it if we ran into each other. The less I talk about it the easier it is to conceal. But, it's there. Just lurking in the chaos, waiting to shroud me when the quiet comes. But then, God. He's near to the broken-hearted and also to those that are crushed in spirit. He's found me here and pulled me out, and also hovered in the gloom. Even in my sickness, I am not alone. He goes before and behind, hemming me in. I am not afraid because He is there.

I read an article on mental illness recently. Now they are classifying depression as a mental illness. It bothers me. I guess because I should be able to snap out of it, and I can't. I don't want it to be real. I want it to be hormonal and not an issue of mental instability. Ugh. There. I said it. Am I unstable? No. Emotionally unstable? Probably. Yes. I'd say so, but I can reign it in. Maybe I'm not completely unstable. You won't see me crying in a grocery store, but quite possibly you could see that at church.

My life is overwhelming. I need to be able to manage it with a sense of peace. As it is I tackle projects with intensity when the urge comes because it might not come again for weeks. That is stressful. And school is starting. I've got to figure this out.

Just keepin it real.

Lvb