Wouldn’t it be fun to live on a street named, “Peachy St”? I would get to answer everyone who asks, “How’s it going” with, “It’s just peachy!” Thank goodness there weren’t any houses for sale this summer. I noticed this street on the way home from a ride, one that didn’t start out so peachy. In fact it was that the end of a few weeks that had been less than peachy.
I often dance around transparency when it comes to depression. I don’t mind people knowing, in fact I want people to know so that others can be more aware and get the help they need. Pride holds me back because I’m desperately afraid of the person who hears my story and takes pity on me. I picture the scene.. running into them at the grocery store, our eyes meet, their head slightly tilts in that, "oh you poor thing have you taken your medication" look. Then arms open wide for the hug. I know it’s all meant in kindness but moments like that are what keep people quiet. And I really think there are a lot of quiet people out there when it comes to depression. Not that we need to go around wearing shirts that say, “#depressionrocks” or anything. I mean the quiet actions of not getting help, not reaching out, not finding people they can count on.
Personally, I don’t know the point in life it started for me. The fact of the matter is when I am in the thick of having a really bad day or series of bad days, where and when it started doesn’t really matter. What matters is reaching into my bag to find every tool I have to walk my way out of those days of feeling like I’m walking in thick mud with no visible end in sight.
My empathy for other’s with mental illness is endless. Because I get on a deep level how much it sucks! For me it’s sometimes triggered by the change of seasons, sometimes yearly reminders of events, too much on my plate, or the taper weeks before a race (where I’m training less and feeling out of my normal life rhythm). Often, it’s an unexpected combination of things. Recently, it was a painful yearly reminder, going into fall, tapering for a race and missing dear friends. Oh, and yes, the one that really sends us all into frenzy….holidays begin next month!
For the first week of it, I knew the cause, knew it was a yearly period of grief I needed to embrace and walk through. I thought I had moved through and cleared the pain until a few days later it came rushing back. I often find myself asking Eric, “is this ever going to get better?” It does and then it doesn’t. The waves come and go, crash and get calm. There are days, such as this past week where nothing seemed right. I don’t sleep, I worry, I cry and joy feels beyond my reach. But you wouldn’t know. Eric knows because I tell him. I have to. I have to start with telling him. “Things are bad”. It’s usually a text that he always returns with, “tell me how I can help you.” I am blessed and this exchange has taken years to come to. Then we talk and it isn’t always easy. I can’t imagine what it’s like for the person (Eric) who gets these messages with no rhyme or reason. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him to try to help me sort through what has caused me to get to this space in my mind and hold my hand as we walk out. To be far away and worry, to send me off on my bike or out for a run knowing this time and space is what I need.
I aired up my tires, threw on some reflective gear and headed out on a ride I had zero interest in completing. The only motivation was to do something so I didn’t have to lie to my coach about doing nothing. The pedals on my little Felt road bike circled around as my brain circled around wondering if I would ever know joy again. This may sound dramatic but it’s the real truth, my legs may have pedaled easily but I was pedaling though life in my highest gear, heading up hill. And then I ask, “God, why do you feel so far away.” My head dropped because I knew the fact was He wasn’t far away. He just felt far away, I felt far away. My eyes caught a glimpse of the stem of my bike frame where a small yellow cross covers the Felt logo. I stared at that cross and remembered this cross isn’t a feeling, it’s a fact. God’s love isn’t a feeling, it’s a fact. His son dying on the cross isn’t a feeling, it’s a fact. Even though on this ride, I wasn’t feeling like I could sing from the mountain tops, I could rest assured in the facts and resting in the facts lead me back to the feelings.
As my body warmed from the movement, the river and orchards surrounding me soothed my aching heart. The facts reminded me that I was loved so much more that I could ever comprehend. My emotional pedaling became easier too as I crested a hill and crossed the river over the Columbia. Looking south from that bridge is one of my favorite views. Stopping to take it in, pieces of a scripture ran through my head. “…how deep, how wide, how vast…is the love of Christ.” I looked again at that yellow cross, a fact stuck to the stem of my bike. Joy was returning as I was reminded that Christ’s love is incomprehensibly larger than any sadness or depression I can feel. That wide and vast and deep river was his love and my pain was a drop of water to be swallowed up by it.
That night at church as we prepared for the evening service, the lights flickered and then were out. Our service would not be out though. Everyone jumped in, moving chairs to the partially lit foyer, bringing in candles, votive and necessities for service. As we began I looked around and felt the hurts which had been challenging my heart for the past few weeks were truly lifting. I looked at the people weaving our family into this community. The tiny votive candles reminded me of the light from Jesus that never stops shining, no matter how dark things my feel. In her sermon, Pastor Meghan encouraged us to be 5% braver. I thought about my 5% braver which is this writing and you reading it. Joy really was returning.
Speaking of the joy I couldn’t find earlier in the week, I was given a few reminders. On Sunday at church, my friend Joy slipped me a note inviting our family to their house for brunch. Just this morning my friend Laura sent me a text, “Have a great day my friend. Be filled with Joy.” Laura had no idea of my recent joy challenges.
If you are one of the quiet people who deals with depression, anxiety, PTSD or any mental illness, I’m praying for you! Praying you can be bolder today, reach out, get help and find solutions. Personally, I don’t think there is a “one size fits all” solution for everyone. At times, I use different tools and have a few that are non-negotiable necessities. To my First Responder friends, you have an extra challenge in that you work in a field that somehow says you have to be “tough” all the time. I my opinion, there is no weakness in facing your challenges. It’s one of the toughest things I can think of. No matter who you are, you are important and God has a very special purpose for your life.