I know there’s no miracle cure for depression. I know that I’m experiencing a lot more good days than I have for quite a while, thanks to the new medication, and that I can’t expect the bad ones to vanish altogether, especially not so quickly.
But why do the bad ones have to feel so bad?
After starting the week feeling pretty good, and enjoying some quality family time, I’ve felt myself being dragged back down over the past few days. I haven’t done anything to hurt myself, and that is progress, but if I had been on my own on Friday night, I’m pretty sure I would have done. Right now, I’m sitting here feeling almost like I’m vibrating with anxiety and, well, just desperation to feel NORMAL again.
Bad days that follow good ones are harder to deal with, somehow. On the one hand, I should have that hope that they are just that – bad days – and that I know I can have good ones, too, and more and more of them. But they feel so overwhelming, so paralysing, and the contrast between good and bad makes the darkness feel even darker.
I tell myself that this is bound to be my reality, at least for the time being. It took me a long time to get so ill; it’s going to take a long time to get better. I tell myself that I am not where I was, even if I’m not yet where I want to be.
It’s hard, though. I feel so vulnerable, so needy.
Yesterday, driving Tom to scuba, I clung onto the steering wheel and prayed so hard for God to take this away from me. It feels wrong to pray for healing because I know that that may not be His plan for me, and I’ve learned and grown so much as a result of this whole messy experience. But I want Him to. I want to be healed. I want to wake up feeling okay. Not just once or twice a week, not just for a few days in a row. Every day.
I want to be able to get through a weekend with my children without having to spend an afternoon of it in bed.
I want to be able to tackle work with confidence, instead of self-doubt and panic.
I want to have energy, life, enthusiasm.
I want to be able to be with my friends without feeling like a burden, or that they’re only spending time with me out of pity.
I want to live without the uncertainty of not knowing whether I’m going to wake up in the morning feeling relatively okay, or stuck in the pit.
It’s a difficult reality to live with at the moment.