I’ve been depressed. Most people would have no idea. The Furry Guy’s not surprised, but he lives with me. He has seen me moving a little slower than usual and struggling just a bit to keep all of the plates spinning.
The thing is—I’m good at appearing to have it all together. It’s not pretense, exactly. I’m simply good at pulling myself together and getting done what needs to be done. I love people and the energy I get from them helps to perk me right up when I’m out and about. My parties (my job) are still fun. What I’ve realized, though, is that it takes a lot more to get me going and motivated. I’m acting lazy and sometimes, in my worst moments, a little snarky.
It makes a certain amount of sense. In January my only child moved to Dallas. He’d been going to school there and graduated in December. I wouldn’t wish him back. He’s not only where he should be; he’s where God has him right now. I’m happy for him. He’s thriving. I haven’t been one of those weepy, clingy moms. He’s far away, though. It’s a loss of sorts.
Then one of my best buddies lost her battle with ovarian cancer in February. She was a sister in Christ. I think of her as the sister I never had (though she has a great sister). We could talk about anything, everything and nothing. If she was having a bad day she’d call and ask me to make her laugh. She would let me show the worst of myself for a while, then gently correct me. If that didn’t work she’d try a not-so-gentle approach. I’ve held her while she cried. We’ve laughed with and at one another until we cried. We traveled together. We grew together. We loved one another as dear friends of the heart. She had been battling the cancer fairly well for just over a year, but she took a sudden and swift turn for the worse. I miss her so much. There are still times I reach for the phone to give her a call.
I found out in the midst of everything that my thyroid is a little off, adding an even more decidedly chemical element to the mix. Pile on the average little everyday stresses and strains, and the weight became a burden. My diabetes responds badly to the emotional stuff, which throws my hormones, endocrine system and lymphatic system all out of whack. That, in turn, throws my emotions all out of whack. It’s a vicious circle.
The really sad, pathetic thing is that I didn’t realize I was depressed until I started to feel just a wee, tiny, little bit better. Looking back there were signs. There was the lethargy that I attributed to the thyroid issue, which got somewhat better with simple supplements. There was the one long headache that lasted from early January through early March. Massage therapy took care of that. I now recognize that these were merely symptoms of the larger problem—depression. Like I said, duh!
I don’t think the depression is deep, but it’s a bit more than mild. I know I’ll be fine. Other friends are a blessing. My son is good at keeping in touch. There are projects and assignments that help to keep me busy and active. I exercise and make mostly healthy food choices. I’ll be talking with my health care team about how to tackle this.
Finally, and most importantly, I am intimately acquainted with the Great Healer. I’m sure that soon I’ll be back to my go-get-‘em self. In the meantime, I’ll start processing everything and work my way through to the other side.