I love watching A&E's Intervention. While I don't struggle with any drug or alcohol addiction, I am in need of an intervention.
For years I have suffered with depression. I've been on antidepressant medications off and on. More years without than with.
I seem to be in a funk lately. Unhappy with several aspects of my life. I find myself crying more than laughing. Breaking down at a moments notice, sometimes for no real reason. Although over the last couple of weeks, just struggling with Cody turning sixteen has brought many tears.
For the last several Sundays, I have sobbed at church. From the moment the first praise song starts to the very last prayer, I sit and cry. I am sure those sitting near me must wonder what is wrong with me each and every Sunday. I have wondered on more than one occasion just what is wrong with me.
Why can't I be happy? This person that I am today is not who I once was. There was a time when I was so very happy, bubbly, always smiling, always laughing, confident, outgoing, carefree, fearless. Do you know at one point I was fearless? Today, I see myself as shy, quiet, withdrawn, embarrassed, ugly, ashamed, sad, unhappy, depressed.
There are days that I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to deal with anything. I just want to lie in bed all day. Of course life gets in the way of that plan and I can't just stay in bed. There are responsibilities.... like kids, work, cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping. Life doesn't stop just because I don't want to get out of bed. So, I go through the motions. Fake the smiles, fake the laughter. Wave at the neighbors. Go to work. Attend the family functions. Put on the brave face only to feel like at any point, everything will come crashing down.
There are days when I wish more than anything I could rewind the years to when I was happiest. Miranda Lambert has a new song out that brings me to tears faster than anything.
I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine
Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone elseI thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
I've thought about the houses that have built me. There are several. The very first home my parent's called "home". Our home in Hobbs. The house on Summit. My grandparent's homes in Electra. Southwest Church of Christ. A two-bedroom apartment. A duplex in Canyon. 3 bedroom rent house in Ridgecrest. A home of our own.
I've wondered at what point the carefree, happy me became who I am today. No one particular moment is to blame for the depression. It just happened. "I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am".
I need to find myself. I need to find my happiness. I need an intervention. So, I am creating a self-induced intervention. Starting with this very public blog. I titled this blog, "Thinking Outloud" and that's what I am doing. I'm sharing my story. I'm openly confessing... I am depressed. Maybe by putting it out here in the open, someone else who struggles with depression will realize that they are not alone.
This old world can be hard at times. Struggling with marriage and children can be hard. Forgetting who you once were and trying to find that person can be hard. Sometimes it just gets to be too much and you lose your way. I'm trying to find my way again. I'm trying to find me.
~jen