I was able to hold onto this 'good feeling' for a couple weeks, the longest I've felt it in months. Emotionally I had felt like I was on a winning streak. Sure, I had my ups and downs, my moods, but never to the point where they felt unmanageable. I felt grounded. Normal, really.
Then the depression came knocking, at first a light tap on the door, but eventually banging with a vengeance. It's presence was quite familiar to me and I know too well the inevitable nature of its cycle. My observer self watched as the depression dug in a little deeper each day and within a few days I was back to that pull-the-covers-over-my-head state. Frustrated. I knew the stability I had felt just prior wouldn't last, it never does, but I suppose I'm always clinging to the hope that it will stay longer than it does.
So I found myself at a level of functioning that takes much more of my attention than what seems ideal, and consequently removes me from being present with my loved ones. Sadness, sensitivity, overwhelm, grief, even anger this time, take over and I turn inward. My inner processes ramp up and demand so much of my energy. I move in slow motion, it kind of feels as though I'm walking through molasses. It's not something I am choosing, but something that happens to me. At times I resent it, but resistance is futile and only adds onto the frustration, feeding it and slowing down the healing process.
I try to participate in regular life but have little to offer and struggle to cope with the demands placed on me. I withdraw my presence. It becomes routine that my husband picks up the slack that I've dropped, without question, and graciously refrains from expressing any frustrations that he may carry. I know it will pass, but it still takes tremendous efforts to accept this state, and I am riddled with guilt for the person I cannot be for my family and loved ones.
It is here where the frustrations with in my life bubble to the surface. With myself, my marriage, my relationships - they become all I can see. In my relationships I contemplate how much of these problems have to do with what I am not able to offer myself. I become critical of myself and others, so I leave the room, not wanting to hurt anyone. Aware of how disproportionate my perspective becomes, I am careful not to make any big moves until I can act from a clearer view. Adaptation.
I am beginning to emerge. Much of my ability to come up from the turbulent waters comes not from what I am doing but what I am not doing. Not resisting, or becoming frustrated with being frustrated, or criticizing myself for the disfunction of my emotions - I know from experience that it is these things that cause me to spiral deeper.
But also there are things I'm learning to do to help as well.
It is important to pay attention to my emotions and try to understand what they are asking for or find a way to release them. As soon as I deny their right, I start to feel them psychosomatically. They become trapped. Sometimes this just means allowing them to be, without judgment. Other times it means acting in a way to find what they need to be reconciled. I know now how crucial it is to practice self-compassion to avoid the spell of the negative.
I am faced with the constant challenge of acceptance - of self, of my state, of others. It takes great deliberation to debunk the negative perspective that is voiding the view. To focus on the small light that is offered in the cracks.
Also to give myself permission to lean on others when its hard, and accept whatever level of support they may (or may not) be able to offer at the time. Turns out I don't have to be this totally self-sufficient superhuman and I might be surprised at what another can offer to bring solutions to my confusion.
I know from living this cycle again and again, there is a function in this depression. I can't say I like it and if there was another (easier) way I would probably choose it. I know it is hard for those who care about me to understand it from the outside. They don't want to see me in pain. But hardships are part of life and have reasons for presenting themselves when they do. I try to remind myself of the messages I repetitively see from the people that inspire me. It is said in so many ways but the message is common, as in the words of Brene Brown, "Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light." I really believe this. However, practicing this concept is so much harder than it sounds. I see how people around me fear the the things that cause discomfort and will try at best to avoid going there. I do it too. It's uncomfortable, uncertain, and scary. Even though I now understand its ability to bring growth, it becomes hard when you are in the depths of it. But in my mid-thirties journey embodying this message of acceptance of, or perhaps even embracing, the darkness in life as a place where the greater things are rooted has never proved wrong, and every time I come out with an answer that helps move me forward.
I have spent a lot of time with my thoughts and have come to understand myself a little more. Most of this understanding, if not all, has come to me during the hard times. I have been contemplating the balance between my ability to self-support and my emotional dependency on others. I have been exploring my truth, and am finding purpose in following it, expressing it and inspiring others to do the same through example. I've been reflecting on the amount of power I've given away through self-sacrificial practices, and am giving worth to my voice. I have become more aware of the ways I have been living according to what is expected of me rather than from an authentic place. I am giving myself permission to not have all the answers right now and to receive support from others. Again, I contemplate the balance between my needs and what I can offer to others. The purpose that lies in loving myself, in order to offer love, in unlimited quantities, to others. It is these answers, and more, that lie in the function of my depression.
"Trust the process," I'm told. Perhaps the greatest challenge yet. When the light has disappeared from view and all you can see is the darkness, you become wrapped in uncertainty, the unknown. You must find trust in something greater than yourself to carry you along until there is light. Trust that there is a purpose for this experience you are going through and that something greater will come from it. I am beginning to understand. Each time I emerge from the depths of my depression, I come to a new understanding of myself, and growth comes from it. The next time I hit a wall I have a couple more tools to help me along my way. So I wade through the doubt, toward the hope that illuminates, sometimes so far in the distance, but its there. Even on days that I cannot see it, I don't think I ever lose the sense that something greater will come of this. Trust the process. This is what keeps me going.
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