I had a conversation yesterday with a friend about how quickly we forget being sick once we're feeling better, how quickly we go back to taking our health for granted. I'm over the pneumonia that plagued me a few weeks ago, but I'm not saying hourly prayers of thanks for the fact that I'm no longer coughing up a lung with every other breath. Instead, I breathe in and out and don't pay much attention to the miracle that this action represents. This is less the case with depression. Though it may be because it's still lingering to some extent, I do stand in awe at the fact that it's lifted and I'm enjoying life again and I am deeply thankful for the relief, moment by moment. I'm aware of its continued presence like I might be aware of gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe-- it's there, it's sticky and unpleasant, but I can still walk. I don't feel maimed by depression right now. My soul is no longer made of lead. I can breathe.
I've worked hard at beating it back. Very hard. And I've had great support from several corners. I'm thankful for the courage to fight, the tools I've been given, the tools I've earned and honed and mastered (some of the time, anyway), and the grace. Ah, yes, the grace. Gracious meals, gracious counsel, gracious TLC, gracious time, gracious space. But sneaking around the corner of all this courage and effort and grace comes the nagging fear that the black dogs of depression will come marauding at the door of my soul again, and I fear they'll come before I've had time to build up my resources for another fight.
This is how I walk with gum stuck to my shoe, with the awareness that depression is still there, always there, though not always dominant. I would prefer to live without this sticky awareness. I would prefer to fly with the wind beneath my wings rather than stumble about all gummed up and muddled by gravity. But there's an awfully good chance that I'd forget to be thankful for the moments of joy, for the moments when I'm acutely and profoundly aware of the beautiful absence of intolerable pain.
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2 comments:
you know what? you put into words what i know in my heart and head and can't express. as i continue to struggle with jobs and relationships the darkness always seems to loom around the corner. but i can be thankful that for now, i'm still okay. wish i could have dinner with you and pallister clan. ;)
thanks for baring your soul sandra. your words come to life and connect with souls everwhere. i know what you mean by taking things for granted the moment they're restore, especially with health.
be strong my friend! we hold the Light that never goes out.
heidi x
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