I feel like Faye Raye, waiting alone in the jungle, tied between two pillars, waiting for the indefinite future that has fallen upon her. She doesn’t know what’s coming…but she knows that she should be afraid…and she’s terrified. When King Kong bursts through the trees and in one violent sweep, grabs her, squeezing her tiny body inside of his large hand…she’s basically helpless as he runs through the jungle, carrying her deeper into the unknown.
For me, depression is kinda like that. It snatches me up and carries me to foreign places within my own mind.
After my suicide attempt in 2009, I was successful at medicating it away to the point that I almost had no emotion at all. There were times when I felt like I should be sad…but couldn’t cry. I could only shrug my shoulders and say, “Well, it is what it is.”
There were only three people in my world; myself, my daughter, and my son.
Unless it directly affected us, there was no point in me getting emotional over it.
There were times when I felt as if I should be overjoyed but my mood was calm to the point of indifference.
There were times that I was so angry, that not even the antidepressant could even out my mood. These were the only times that I allowed myself to cry. Anger was the only emotion that could trigger those hot tears that unwittingly cascaded down my cheeks when I was so upset that I couldn’t control myself.
And then, there were the times when I felt like I couldn’t go the grocery store without my heels on. This was the time when I decided it was all about me and I didn’t give a damn if someone got their feelings hurt. It was then that I reverted into my alter ego, Ebony Farashuu. The beautiful one….the untouchable one…the bitch.
It’s funny how much more attention and respect I was able to get as a pure bitch, than I was ever able to get as the nice girl that my mama raised me to be.
One day, a few months ago, I found myself watching “A Baby Story.” If you’re not familiar with this show…it follows a woman from pregnancy, to the delivery room, to the first few months of having her baby in her life.
This is a show that I used to boo-hoo cry over every single time I watched it. I’m a very emotional person. I used to cry watching touching commercials on TV. There wasn’t a single episode of “Cold Case” that hadn’t made me cry so when I realized I had actually sat through an entire episode of “A Baby Story” without shedding one tear….I knew in my heart that there was something profoundly wrong with me.
That is when I stopped my antidepressant. Things were good for a while. I cried a little. I broke up with a boyfriend who didn’t deserve me. I cried a little more, and just when I felt that the depression might be coming back…I fell in love.
Love cures everything, right?
At first it was all laughter and kisses, but when reality set in, and the devil started working on us…there were tears, and sleepless nights, and frustrations…and I didn’t have that little pill to fall back on. What I had were the horrible side effects of stopping the pills so abruptly coupled with the strains of a relationship where two people are trying to do right together when what they really need to do is separate and do right alone for a minute.
We got out of the relationship and got into our bibles. It was the best decision we could have made because once we realized what our main focus should be, we were able to handle being a couple again with realistic goals and restrictions according to God.
When God comes into your life, the devil works much harder to break you down. It’s a game to him and we are just the pawns that he likes to move around this chess board we call life.
I’m losing my home. I’m short on money. My health has been failing me. My blood pressure, at times, has been at STROKE levels. My children aren’t listening to me. They would rather be with their father where it’s always fun and there is plenty of money for activities. I’m just the mean one who never has any money, yet spends what she doesn’t have to try and keep them happy.
I sound like a victim, don’t I?
I feel like one too.
My entire world is falling on top of me and I feel like there is nothing I can do to dig myself out of the rubble.
I’m tired.
Sometimes I just want to give up, give my children to their father, and run away.
God told me that wasn’t an option so I keep doing what I’ve been doing. Working, tithing, loving my kids, giving to others, paying what bills I can pay, trying to ignore the ones I just can’t, avoiding calls from not only MY bill collectors, but those of my Ex-husband who hold me responsible for his debt.
That’s when I find myself saying, “It’s not fair”. That’s when I find myself asking, “Why ME?”
And then God asks me, “If not YOU, then WHOM? Whom would you have all of this pain and suffering given to? Whom would you choose to take your place?”
And the answer is, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else…but when we look up at the sky and say “Why Me, Lord?” That is exactly what we are doing…wishing our problems on someone else.
It’s odd how we come to realizations about things happening in our lives. I recently received a call from my friend, Hope. Ironic that a woman named Hope would call me out of the blue to discuss my life with me but she did. Hope told me that I needed to let my house go and make a fresh start, to stop letting my pride get in the way. She told me that sometimes, when God feels like we have too much of a burden on us, he pushes the things that block our spiritual blessings out of the way. As Hope was speaking to me, and encouraging me to find a new beginning, a strange man walked onto my porch and handed me a stack of papers. I disconnected my call with Hope and looked at this strange man telling that I was being served and it wasn’t B2K style.
He was serving me with foreclosure papers. And as he watched me trying to wrap my head around losing my home, he asked me if I knew the Lord. I told him yes.
He looked at me then and asked, “Do you know ABOUT the Lord, or do you KNOW him?”
I said, “I know him. I know that things will be okay, but this is a sad situation for me.”
He then asked if he could pray for me. The man serving me with papers that my home was being taken away, wanted to pray for me. He held my hands in his and prayed intently and I could feel tears just running down my face. Afterwards, I hugged him, genuinely for he had prayed for me genuinely and I knew that this man and Hope were God’s messengers. Does it make what I’m going through any easier? No, but it does give me hope that things will one day work out in my favor without the pain of loss being involved.
I have to start over. I have no choice and I think it’s harder to deal with when the CHOICE has been taken away from you. I went and found an apartment and I’ve tried to paint a wonderful picture for my children, and I’ve tried to keep up a happy front, but all of the effort I’m putting into being happy is ultimately causing me to break down into spontaneous tears that flow whenever they want to.
And so today, I’m standing between two pillars and my hands are tied. I feel helpless, and I’m afraid of the known as well as the unknowns.
Depression is coming to get me and I can’t allow myself to be folded up in its hands like Faye Raye.
But I refuse to be medicated. I refuse to believe that I’m going through this for nothing and I refuse to keep being afraid.
The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? (Psalm 27:1)
Whom or what shall I fear?
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