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.