Lucy and That Football
Over the years depression has come and gone, and has remained for the most part, under control for the last decade or so. Not so this year. This year has been a year of transitioning to a new doctor, new meds with lots of trial and error and lots of ups and mostly downs, and with reason since this year has been a year of grieving the loss of two of our family's matriarchs. It's been a year of living and teaching through a pandemic, and so much more.
I'm still standing. But I'm also here to say that this never goes away.
Like other chronic 'invisible' illnesses, clinical depression doesn't go on it's merry way once it's had its way with you. No it, hangs around. It trespasses on an otherwise normal life. I've read lots on this topic, and though some of my favorite writers have come to see depression as a friend of sorts, I haven't had that same friendly experience. With me, it's more like Lucy and Charlie Brown, and the enticement to kick that football, only to land on one's head time and time again. I try to avoid Lucy, or at least, avoid invitations to kick that ball.
There isn't much else to say. It's redundant (oh, I know). But for those of you also living with chronic or even terminal conditions, I'm here to say I'm sorry I can't fix it. I feel with you. I won't even say "You are not alone" because the truth is we DO walk so much of these valleys alone, or with God by our side which even that feels lonely sometimes. So I'll just sit with you here in this field of waiting, where all the inbetweens come to gather, where we wait to see God's goodness in the land of the living.