If you don’t know, you really just don’t know.
There I was. Making videos. Creating memes of my food. Writing inspirational posts on FB. Posting workout pictures.
While, inside,
I. Was. Falling. Apart.
This was my winter.
I began to feel the symptoms in late fall. I’d been here before, so I just figured I’d get a S.A.D light, some essential oils, and keep up my healthy eating and workouts.
But the decline was such a slippery little sucker, that I didn’t even realize it was happening. By mid-January I was nearing the bottom.
“I think I’m depressed,” I said to my husband on just another normal morning where getting out of bed felt like an Insanity workout.
“I’d actually be surprised if you said you weren’t,” was his answer.
Eeks.
Clearly, I wasn’t do a great job hiding it from my spouse. But, then again, he knows depression. And OCD. There was no fooling him.
(I should note, that I don’t struggle with clinical depression, but rather seasonal/situational depression. Environment alone can do quite a number on even this tough gal. And it pulled no punches this year.)
I muddled through.
Escaping to the most positive and supportive community I know: my Beachbody family – the majority of which are made up of Christians.
I worked out. Sometimes not even speaking to George until after the workout was over. We would enter the gym silently, both of us in a major funk, and sweat out the stuff that was weighing us down.
There were mornings when it worked.
And many when it didn’t.
Regardless, I remained obedient to the structure and discipline of those mornings.
You may be shocked to read that on many days:
- I never showered.
- Or got dressed.
- Is that the phone ringing? Meh.
- Seeing people? Maybe. Groups? Torture.
- Sullen much?
- What? I have children that need to eat dinner?
- Another massive bowl of popcorn drowned in Parmesan cheese, please. Or rather, two.
- “Just buy school lunch,” proclaimed the Queen of eating clean. Haven’t you heard? Ketchup is a vegetable.
- I forgot an appointment AGAIN?
- “Don’t sweat the small stuff?” Um, nothing feels like small stuff. Everything is ginormous.
Facebook and social media? My escape.
Writing? My refuge.
Acting? My THERAPY.
(The stage is a safe and acceptable place to let it all out, you know???)
So during the winter of my discontent, I hid myself away in my online world and just waited for sunshine and warm weather to come around again. I kept alive by pouring into my customers and coaches. They fueled me during this time. And had absolutely no idea of their impact on me.
Coming out of 2013, I should have known. It was a tough year for me personally. And professionally. And then, this hellishly harsh winter hit, along with a few situational stresses for our household.
But, there was never a loss of hope. I know Christ. And I also know Christ provided me with amazing relationships, opportunities, and responsibilities, which helped me remain afloat, even while feeling dragged under.
Many had no idea.
Recently, during a brief encounter with a friend, she asked, “Where have you been? I’ve not seen you.”
“I’ve been home. Winter about killed me. I’ve been pretty depressed for months.”
She was shocked.
See, if you don’t know, you just. don’t. know.
After all, you see me here – online. Sharing my health tips, and stories about Zane and Harper, and random silliness. I SEEM just fine. My being “depressed” doesn’t make sense based upon the daily routine I share. But truly, I credit Beachbody and social media as a healthy means of escape for me. And helping others, kept me, at a minimum, one small step ahead of my own pain.
After a long walk with another friend a few weeks ago, I was confused when she shared, “I have to apologize. I haven’t been a great friend. I’ve not been around for you.”
Um, I would never put that type of pressure on a friend. I never even noticed her absence, because I had no reason to question her friendship, and because I was keeping a low profile myself. When we saw each other, we saw each other, and all was well. But there’s no keeping score in friendship. There was no need for her to apologize.
I gave her a hug and kiss, told her she was being silly. Heck, I’d been absent also. But it had nothing to do with her.
(We’re good.)
There you have it.
The truth.
I am showering now. And getting dressed. And sometimes, I even do my hair (only, I still wear hats and bandanas, for they have nothing to do with the depression – they’re just me). I am exercising. Eating right. Writing. Sharing my thoughts with the town of Beaver, covering myself with essential oils, reading, drinking my Shakeology, and enjoying my days.
Boy, do I feel like myself again.
So much so, that even thinking about next winter already has me spooked.
But for now, let’s just enjoy.
I feel like I’ve been busted out of a stark, cold, confined space.
Anyone else understand?
Watching my daughter struggle with depression has been one of the hardest experiences of my life. I don’t have depression, but her pain sucks me dry. I feel very much like I’m drowning in my effort to hold on to her. Her pain is so intense on some days. Some days she just comes home and says she can’t; can’t talk to anyone, can’t manage getting off the floor. There are nights when she just sobs and all I can do is wrap her up in my arms and let her. She started on medication. The dark says are fewer but when they come, they come hard. She is able to go to school more easily, her grades have improved, but I still get texts begging me to get her out of school; she’s going to fall apart at any moment. It’s a daily struggle. We can only love and support her and give her the tools to learn to work through it for the day when we won’t just be in the next room.
Lori, I had no idea. Having watched George go through it, I know . . . and no doubt, as can happen in a marriage, I have begun to dip when he dips. Held it at bay for so long . . .but this year? Well, you read the post. Thanks for sharing about your daughter. I can feel your words as if they were mine.
I TOTALLY understand! Interestingly, when I am struggling I respond completely opposite of you regarding social media: I withdraw from it, instead of engaging in it more. And I also get that the fear of the suffocating darkness can be just as challenging as the darkness itself. Thank you so much for sharing your honest perspective!