Adventures in Depression

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Please go here. Read this.  You may have trouble not laughing while you cry...

Two people, one body

If you've never suffered from depression, these words may make no sense to you.  If they ring true, you may want to look into finding some healing.

A day of relapse: I walk around, on the verge of tears.  It doesn't matter if I'm walking to class or playing with Sprout.  I could be eating lunch, or driving to a dentist appointment.  The moisture in my eyes is constant, the lump in my throat and the pit in my chest do not go away. There is a physical feeling of a weight on my shoulders and back, that bows me down and requires even more strength just to keep walking.
Why tears?  A memory, a flashback, an unkind word from a loved one... Or maybe just that underlying feeling that my life is worthless, my efforts pointless, my very existence a mistake.  The spiritual inroads are blocked, the feelings of joy or laughter have disappeared like a cooling, misty rain evaporates under a hot, beating sun.
I search for something to bring relief.  Only I don't deserve relief, so why am I trying?
The intense desire to curl up in a dark corner, make myself as small as I can, and sob or just crouch in the numbness, rules my thoughts.  The world is slightly darker, as if the bright sun has a blackened aura, and the shade is darker.  My shadow doesn't stream away from me, it clings to my body, absorbing light that would normally waken my senses and leave me subconsciously, quietly, content in the energy I receive.
Divine forces are absent.  Feelings of love and security are completely unreachable.
I can't protect myself enough.  I can't become invisible enough.  I can't hide.
That is my first person.  It's what takes over my inner self.  On these days, it reigns supreme.

My second person is what you see.  You might think something is off, and I tell you brightly that I'm just tired because my life is so full!  I laugh with you, or text you a lot of "hahaha" and "lol" to pepper our witty banter.  I smile and socialize with friends and classmates.  If other people are around, I'm an engaged and playful mother with Sprout, full of love and laughter.
I offer support to friends in need, and speak firmly of things that feed the soul.  I converse with family in cheerful tones, doing my best to respond with maturity and compassion to situations of disagreement or irritation.
I have showered, dressed in clean clothes, and go through the motions of eating.  I do my best to complete assignments or ask at least one pertinent question during a class where I am noticed and graded on participation. I seem to be present.

I seem to be normal.

I am two people, sharing one body.

For help, try starting here: http://www.ifred.org/

Found by my Inner Goddess

The past few days have been filled with a magic unlike any I have felt before now.  I may or may not write my whole experience, but I need to write about my goddess.  She looks like me, only perfectly healthy and sound. Her hair is long and full, her limbs straight and strong, and she walks with confidence, love, and compassion.  Her eyes are pools of wisdom and her movements are graceful.  She is not from this time or place, but from outside time, coming to join me behind my heart-wall to reassure me that hope is real.  She accepts me perfectly, wholly, and loves me without reserve.  She understands every pain and fear and doubt that possesses me, and in a language that does not exist on this earth, she has sworn not to leave me until I no longer need her by my side.  She walks with me, and whispers encouragement into my right ear, and meets me in my safe place to hold my hands and fill my vision with my own divine nature.  She is my future self, the one who has fulfilled her destiny, her potential, her joy.  She has no regrets, only acknowledges her growing experiences with gratitude.
I had looked for her in vain, trying to force her to materialize based on my own perceptions and needs, trying to follow the formula of another person who had found hers.  I gave up, thinking I'd never feel the real magic that has been described by others.  I wished for it, hoped for it, but never expected it.
She came upon me softly yesterday, slipping in through a tiny crack in my shield.  She is the only one behind that wall with me.  Her soft touch has opened my eyes to beauty and joy in my little piece of the world that was hidden behind clouds of rage, disappointment, grief, despair, numbness, and fear.  Her well of love and courage is deep and forever full and available.

I am not fully healed, and I do not know that I ever will be.  But my goddess is with me, and the deepest darkness cannot touch her radiance.  May my shield open enough to allow my Goddess into my heart.

Blessed Be.

Some clarification on the new hole in my face

This. Is not me.  Though I'm sure some people think I'm headed down this road now.

Here is a short list of reasons why I just pierced my nose.  I'm about to turn 30, and I have no business in a piercing parlor like some rebellious teenager.  So here we go:

1.  A stud in my nose makes me surprisingly more accessible.  At least, I feel more accessible--which technically will change my behavior enough for other people to notice and feel more comfortable talking to me. People who would not have been comfortable talking to me casually because of my age or bland clothing or the carseat in the back of my car, can see that I'm just slightly in the black sheep fold and perhaps some cultural barriers can fall.  This is my plan, anyway.  The other option is that kids think I'm stupid because, well, I'm not a rebellious teenager with pink hair.  We'll just vote for the first half of the plan.

2.  I had to kill Molly Mormon.  I had to break that attachment to and obsession with Mormon culture that led to so much guilt and fear.  In the words of a dear friend, I had to "let what is holy be holy, and let what is mundane be mundane."  Too much of my life I spent caught up in the mundane, giving it space on the holy shelf.  So much time was wasted that actual holy things almost didn't fit in my life.  I focused on the outer things like the cut of my clothing or the age I got married.  My sense of worth was tied to the level of 'modesty' of my clothing, the level of shining star returned missionary whose hand I was holding, the clocked time I spent on my knees, how many children I could push out before I hit 30, and the clean and organized atmosphere of my home, complete with walls saturated with pictures ordered from Deseret Book.
IT. WAS. NOT. HEALTHY.
My sense of worth went down the toilet so, so, so, many times.  On the outside, I was trying to conform to the Molly Mormon image, because I thought it would bring happiness, just like all the stories in the Young Women's manuals.  On the inside, I contemplated suicide many times, and got close to actually following through several times.
Piercing my nose was enough to make that necessary break, and to free myself.

3.  My clothes are boring.  I can't afford to dress to fit my personality--I don't have the time or inclination to put in the effort that would take, and I don't have the money.  I have a little smug self-satisfaction now because I know that at least a little of my personality is shining through--why, yes. Yes I am different from you, Sister.
I doubt anyone at school will ever care or even notice, but I sure will be making a statement in my ward on Sunday... :)
And if anyone in my family actually takes the time to read my blog.. surprise! hehehehe

And there it goes...

How long should one indulge in sorrow and self-pity over a perceived rejection?  Something that very probably means absolutely nothing, and yet hurts anyway?  How long does the heart get to trump the intellect before awareness and reason reassert control of experiencing?

Forthcoming: words on why so many of us feel kicked down in to the litany of "I am not good enough."