I’ve tried to pinpoint the triggers. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can’t. My mind wanders into open doorways of memories way too easily. It seems to come over me in waves like a high tide. If I’m observant, there are signs the water is rising, but there comes a moment when the waves crash over me, and I’m pulled into an underwater current going farther and farther from the surface.
I can’t breathe.
Even in the middle of the day, my world is gray, my movements slow, the sounds around me muttered, and my brain disengaged.
The days of extreme grief strung together for weeks at a time. I wondered if I’d ever come up for air again. I longed to see the land and shed my water logged clothing for sanity and stability. I longed to see the sun and run on the sand, holding hands with my kids.
While my kids were at school, Caleb did his studies mostly independent, except for the every day question of, “Do I have to do my math today?” So I was able to roll with this tide of emotions and grief. It’s not something you just snap out of and everything’s OK tomorrow. I had to ride it out.
I had to learn to fight against the current at times and at other times, let it take me on to deeper waters where God would show me things hidden among the ocean floor. He supplied me with oxygen during those times until I eventually returned to the surface for a breath.
At times I felt like I was going crazy and some days that was true.
I went to see our chiropractor who does allergy testing and has been able to figure out many illnesses that doctors have not. She tested my serotonin levels and said that my body was actually blocking the serotonin from reaching my brain/blood stream. Serotonin is the happy hormone, and acts kinda like insulin by keeping you balanced. When sadness spikes, serotonin kicks in and tries to lighten your mood. My body was rejecting serotonin! Her treatments helped me improve, but it didn’t take away the grief. Over time the sadness spells seemed to shorten and my outlook brighten.
For the 6 months my younger two went to school, I rested.
I published a book!
I gave myself grace.
Now, on the other side a bit, I’m trying to be thankful for that dark, underwater time. For if I hadn’t been to the deep waters of grief and depression, I wouldn’t fully appreciate the fresh air of the surface.
That day I got my casserole from Papa’s house, I shut the door on yesterday and realized as Danny Gokey’s song says, “I don’t live there anymore.” I had to “Say goodbye to where I’ve been and tell my heart to beat again.”
I determined to keep going. My kids need me. My husband loves me and wants to be with me. God has called me to things and isn’t finished with me yet.
“So tell your heart…to beat again.”
As I write these emotions out yet again, hope, breathes life into my weary soul.
You’re never too spiritual to experience grief or depression. But without the hope we have in Jesus, I couldn’t endure the deep currents of life.
This post is apart of a series called 31 stories of hope for every homeschooler. To see the entire series, click HERE. Thanks for reading!