Posted on | December 21, 2010 | 29 Comments
The thing about depression is that it never really goes away.
It’s in the car behind you at the stop light, easing forward until it almost taps your bumper. It’s the bing of an email in your inbox. It’s the buzzing vibration of your telephone, signaling a voice mail or a text or an incoming call. Depression is like the smelly guy who always finds a way to sit next to you on the airplane and breathes his halitosis onto your face until you think you’re going to pass out.
I hate depression. I wish there were a magic wand I could wave and make it just disappear from the world because it is such a terrible thing to struggle through. It’s like being in knee deep mud and trying to win a race. And depression when you are a crazed control freak is …
there are no words.
The worst part about going through all this crazy PPA/PPD/PPOhmigodshootme is that I can’t control it. I do not have the ability to just turn it off. And if there is one thing in the world I hate more than all else it is handing control to someone else. I’ve struggled with that concept as a Christian and failed. I’ve struggled with that in my marriage… and fail daily. I don’t even like to ride in a car driven by someone else. And an airplane? Where someone I don’t even KNOW is “driving?” Panic city. So when you throw my control-freak self into a situation like I’m in now… I shut down. I don’t know how to deal when I actually have to ask for help.
But here’s the scoop… the nasty, if you will… I need help.
I need help at work.
I need help at home.
I need help with raising my child.
And I need help dealing with this tidal wave of depression that hovers over me, waiting to crash down and cripple me.
I don’t like admitting that. I’ve been trying to do this MY way. I’ve been regulating my own medication. I’ve been convincing myself that I don’t need anyone else to help me deal with this. I’ve been the voice on my shoulder, the voice in my head, and the voice trying to sing louder than all the other voices chiming in to tell me to get. some. help.
But it’s time.
It’s time to put my pride aside. It’s time to realize that I don’t have to do this by myself. I have a wonderful and supportive extended family. I have a wonderful and supportive group of friends. And I have to let them help me or I’m going to cease to function entirely.
So this is me.
Asking for help.