Chronic Acceptance

Hi. My name is ElisaBeth and I am depressed. I feel squeamish writing that sentence. You would

think after dealing with chronic depression for six years I’d have accepted my fate and as my counselor so eloquently said “view it as an adventure that not many people experience.” Most of the time I feel quite the opposite and believe I’m plagued by a disease that wants to devour me and am viewed by others as the one with the problems… a total mental screw up who is spiritually dry and to blame for the unending misery she finds herself in.

It’s hard taking a dip in the frigid pool of darkness again after experiencing some really warm years of “normalcy.” The invisible bar of perfection, fake happiness and having it all together plagued me long before I understood depression. And now it has followed me to measure my “success” in dealing with my mental illness. After putting in the hundreds of hours of therapy, learning to live with my panic attacks and infuriating anxiety, making a choice to mostly surf on top of the waves of my emotions, speak openly about my journey to help eliminate the shame and stare the dreaded thoughts of escape square in the face; I expected to be good. Didn’t I do all that was required of a person with depression? I don’t want to stare into my soul anymore and figure out why I am the way I am. I thought I finally saw who I was supposed to be and that was it. The boxes had been checked… in my mind I not only grazed the top of the bar but I swung around and around and stuck my landing in such a way that I would have won a gold medal in the Olympics. And maybe that’s what I expected. To perfectly recover from depression making it disappear and leaving me with a golden badge of “been there done that.”

Life doesn’t work like that. Having a chronic illness doesn’t work like that. I may have been able to manage my symptoms really well for a while, but in the end, it is always there… lurking underneath. Waiting for something to shake it out of me again.

But that’s not the way I want to look at it. I want to learn to love and accept that part of me again. The part of me that has been changed in a positive way by battling this disease. The part that has courageously asked for help again and again because I know I can’t fight alone. The part that understands how joy has taken a whole new meaning in my life. The darker, heavier and complacent parts that help me empathize with others. And the part that helps me see God’s love and goodness, mercy and grace but also knows that He can take my anger and hurt and moments of mistrust.

I don’t know my future. But I do know I will continue to work hard… going forward whether up or down. Accepting I am who I am and I am loved.

A Beautiful Realization

A few months ago I stood in front of a room filled mostly with strangers and shared my story. I wanted to share a piece of myself with these beautiful mothers who attended MOPs (moms of preschoolers) because I thought if it could help just one mama it would be worth being vulnerable. The process of writing what I was going to share was another step in my life long refinement as a follower of Christ. Reliving moments that I sometimes wished to forget. Remembering the pain of the disease. Being shown again that even in my lowest of lows God's still small voice was there. He never left me. 

In honor of mental health awareness month I again share my story. Not to show you how far I've come (the growth will never end), nor to exemplify myself as a poster child of postpartum depression, not even to celebrate the fact that I survived. God is SO much more than the small speck of dust that is my story. This life full of suffering is meaningless if it were not for my beloved Savior who points me again and again to Him and reminds me that the joyful moments of life are just a taste of what is to come.

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As I was trying to figure out what piece of my very complex story I wanted to share with you all today the following statements came to me:

You are enough, He is always there even when you could care less, it wasn’t your fault, it is an illness, you are loved, acceptance leads to peace.

You see the past 7 years have been the most refining of my life thus far. In fall 2012 I left all I had known as a young adult and mama and moved from Connecticut to Lancaster PA. I was 7 months pregnant and had a 2.5-year-old at the time. I left my job and became a stay at home mom overnight. I went from being just outside of NYC to living in a land known for its Amish, its cows and its ice cream. I was desperately alone with no community and changes were being thrown left and right… the perfect petri dish for depression.

Being unable to shake the baby blues a few months after giving birth to my son, I wondered if this is just what life was like with 2 kids. Lifeless, dull, one note, void of joy, sad and constricting. But when my home started to feel like a prison and my interests in working on anything in my life besides keeping my kids relatively happy waned, I knew something else had to be going on. It was then in March of 2013 that I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety.

It is a tough road to be on... the inability to control feelings can be crippling. The very idea that I was depressed made me feel full of shame. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t I just be happy? My life was amazing couldn’t I see that? Isn’t prayer supposed to fix this? Just snap out of it. I felt as though I was trapped in a well of darkness, clinging to a ladder that pointed up to the surface, the numb feeling of sadness threatening to overcome me and the darkness below ready to envelope me. I was fighting for my life and, the hardest part, not blaming myself for where I was at. I was sick. I had to accept over and over again that depression is an illness.

July 2013

Depression is very good at distorting the truth. It manufactures lies. It makes you want to isolate yourself and not tell anyone. It yells that you are worthless. That you’re a burden and those closest to you would be better off without you.

It was in July 2013 that I had a plan to end my life. But God had different plans. His still small voice triggered the courageous warrior woman inside of me to call my husband when I wanted to veer off the road and to then explain to him what else I had planned. Together we made the courageous decision to check me into a psychiatric hospital for 72 hours. And that was the beginning… I had been completely burned down. Now it was time to rebuild. Brick by brick. My experiences through that time changed me forever and I come to you a new and fully formed daughter of God. 

I wish I could tell you that getting through those intense years meant I had paid my dues to the “hard knocks of life fund” and all was smooth sailing after that. But it wasn’t… that’s life… one curve ball after another. I had to accept that I might deal with depression indefinitely, I experienced a miscarriage and a year ago my husband lost his job. We now find ourselves coming full circle… restarting our lives in a new area once again. But one of the things I have learned through this journey is that circumstances change all the time, but God is forever constant and faithful.

I want to end by sharing a poem I wrote about a year after my hospital stay. At this point in my recovery I was extremely angry at God for all of my suffering. And how at times I felt I wasn’t getting any better. It was hard for me to sing at church and I could barely speak to Him. One night as I was wrestling with the this I sat down and wrote this.

A Beautiful Realization

You know who you are

You see her right there

She's the one staring

Her eyes glimmering, Her skin fair

You see every flaw

Every sin

Every shame

But do you see the girl who is no longer in such pain?

Can you look past where you are

To see where you've come from?

You've climbed reach-less mountains

You've discovered the sun!

Don't dwell on the battles that are sure to still come

But turn your head toward the victories you've already won

God has been there too

or would you rather forget?

He is the one who saved you

AND He's not finished yet

So open your eyes my dear beloved one.

Give yourself mercy...

Give yourself the Son

Beauty and strength

Courage and might

They have all helped you win

Helped you fight the good fight

Now look again

See the girl who has come so far

You can do this, you can beat this

You are who you are

Beauty HE made you

Beauty HE sees

And He is real, He is there

He comes to you like the warm ocean breeze

Hope for a Hopeless Day

6 years ago, my battle with postpartum depression started.

4 years ago, I recognized and accepted depression would be something that may never leave me.

3 months ago, I was injured and had to stop running after being consistent for 1.5 years… running helped me fight those dark days. I credited running to feeling the best I had felt, mentally and physically, in 6 years.

I lost running around the time I lost my dog. I lost running around the time the reality of our move had settled in. I lost running when the cold stark grey days of my first northern Illinois winter moved in.

I was so fearful of what was next. Was I going to dip into the darkness for longer periods of time without my running? Was I going to start obsessively worrying about my body image? Was I strong enough to find other ways to help my spirits? Would I lose all that I had worked for the last 18 months?

“WHY GOD!? WHY? Why did you take away the ONE thing that I thought you gave me to fight? The one thing that stayed constant in my life after so many changes? The one thing that I could turn to and know would always give me the boost I needed?”

And yet… Jesus Himself was all of that. He IS all of that. I have been reminded over these past months that it is not the running that saves me and that helps me grow stronger… it is the acceptance that “when I am weak, He is strong.”

This morning was tough. We’ve been struggling with sickness in our house again which carries its own bag of difficulties… exhaustion, isolation, loneliness, restlessness. These can be triggers for me, especially the feeling of being closed in and stuck. It is so easy to let my mind race back to my past struggles when triggered if I am not careful. As I drove to drop the older kids off at school the day loomed before me like an endless chasm. The stabbing physical pain of emptiness kept punching me in the heart. How could I do this day? Hopelessness started to overwhelm my mind and my years of training “what to do when down” kicked in.

Running.

Nope can’t do that.

Visiting my friends?

I am still in the baby stages of forming friendships.

And in that moment, I had a choice. I could choose to throw a massive pity party for myself and let my emotions and feelings entrench me, or I could choose to do something else. God gave me the strength to do the latter because if it was fully up to me, I would have started to blow up the balloons.

The sun was deceptively bright and though it was only 25 degrees I decided to take a walk. Making a mental note not to look at the clock, I started to gather layers of clothing for Colin and I.  This reminded me of the joy that mindfulness can bring… the way being right here and right now allows for the pain of hopelessness to melt away.  

As I started to walk down the street with Colin on my back and the sun shinning brightly on my face,

I took a deep breath in and no longer felt trapped. Blood pumped through my very alive body and I was thankful to be here sharing this time with my son. After a mile I asked Colin if he was cold and wanted to go home to which he vehemently replied “NO!” Smiling, we marveled at the beauty of the frozen ponds, spotted robins which brought with them the hope of spring and giggled as I carefully stepped over ice patches.

Walking back into the house I felt so much lighter. God’s beauty and the reality that I was strong enough to have chosen to seek it filled me with hope. The joy in the present moment helped carry me the rest of the day. 

I will run again and when I do I will glorify God. I will feel down again and when I do I will remember that He is strong. The cold of darkness feels awful but the warmth of the sun will come again.

Take hope! You are not alone!