I’ve heard it said that the English language is one of the hardest – if not the hardest – in the world for someone to learn as a second language. I, for one, believe it. I mean, there are so many “exceptions to the rule” and weird things like homophones and homonyms that even those of us who were born in English-speaking countries can’t even seem to get it straight most of the time.
Take the word “depression” for instance. Other words like it that start with a “de” seem to imply that an action has been undone. Like my dehumidifier that takes the humidity out of the air. Or the video games that desensitize our kids to violence. But depressed certainly doesn’t fit that pattern, does it? In fact, it has quite the opposite meaning.
I wish I could say that depression meant that some kind of pressure was actually being removed from your shoulders, allowing you at last to stand up tall and proud and go about your life. If that were the case, these past couple of months would have been a breeze around here. But no. Sadly in this case the “de” at the beginning of this word has absolutely no meaning at all. The rest of the word hasn’t been wasted on me lately, though – I’ve felt every ounce of the “press” in my life.
The picture I get when I think of the word “depression” is kind a ridiculous one, I must admit. I think of those little bubbles on the plastic lids you get from fast food stores. You know the ones, right? The ones that say “Cola” or “DP” or Other”? For some reason when I think of the word “depression” I picture a giant thumb slowly pressing down and crushing one of those little bubbles until it flips inward, creating a perfectly opposite impression of the way it used to be. Get it? The bubble is now “depressed”. And, to boot, it has also made a “depression” in the lid. Ok, so maybe it’s not all that ridiculous.
That’s kind of where I’ve been the past few months. Wallowing in a caved-in, totally opposite impression of who I know myself to be. I haven’t thought like myself, acted like myself or even loved like myself. I’ve just been kind of numb – paralyzed in a sense by an unseen giant thumb pressing down upon my heart. It’s been pretty ugly.
Funny enough, I couldn’t even admit it at first. I just laid there, weakly flailing my arms like a bug pinned to a board trying to convince the world and myself that, “No, really….I’m ok….I’ve got this….” But, you know, eventually some things become just too obvious to ignore anymore. So I’m admitting it. My “other” beverage button has been pushed in on my lid for quite some time now – I am depressed.
Now before you go away from this blog thinking that I’ve been spending my days dressed in black flannel pjs and sleeping in the fetal position with a box of tissues by my side, it’s not like that. Depression doesn’t always have to be so, well, depressing. But it certainly hasn’t been fun either. Discouragement has been my constant companion, and I just haven’t felt like trying to do anything that used to bring me joy. Like writing, for one thing. It’s true, I haven’t written anything at all since that last post in October. Not like me.
Even when I’ve thought about writing, I’ve avoided posting because I knew it wouldn’t be very encouraging, and I don’t want to be a bummer to everyone. I’m pretty sure I’ve already been labeled a drama queen around here, and there was no reason in my mind to bore the rest of you with all of that. But I figured it was time to try and get back on this horse and ride – so a bummer or not, I had to just sit down and start pressing keys. I guess it’s more for me than anything, but I just had to something to try and kick-start myself.
So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if this post is a downer. They’ll get better eventually, and so will I! God has bigger plans for me than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself, and I’m looking forward to moving on with them. For now I’m just taking a few more moments to snuggle in His arms and confess my confusion and sadness. And – like the good Father He is – He will continue to hold me and comfort me until just the right time, when He’ll gently slide me off His knee, take my hand and suggest that we find something fun to do together. He’s such a good Dad, isn’t He?
I’ve got to run for now, but I hope this has been enough to kick-start me back into something good. Maybe I’ll see you back here again soon, huh?
I hope so!
