Friday, September 23, 2016

Bricks and Floating

#truestory #depression #quotes:  

This is where I am today.

 That place that only exists for me, that place where you have no idea what will help you but where you are so very alone.

I am so tired of being alone; so tired of not being able to say what I need; so tired of not knowing what comes next.

I was telling my husband today that I am not sure how much of what I am doing is helpful for what is going on, but how I am utterly terrified of changing my habits; because what happens if I make a change and it just makes everything worse?

I was on a new medicine for the migraines that have been a huge part of my life for the last 10 years, and it pushed me to the edge of my breaking point.  In four days I went from functioning better than I have in a long time to being as close to suicidal as I have been in years.  Four days, and the last dose I took of that was six days ago.  How is it that four days worth of a med made me feel crazy and six days off is not enough to make me feel even remotely normal?  

All I want is to go back, to know ahead of time that taking that medication would set me back; that four days would take away all the energy I have accumulated over the last few months and destroy it.  

There is a book I love, and at one point the heroine says that she is feeling that the task at hand is impossible, not because they have to make new bricks with which to build things back up, but because the bricks that were being used were destroyed.  If it were only a matter of making new bricks, it could be done.  "What she...had been given wasn't even the onus of building bricks without straw; the bricks had existed and been shattered. You can't make bricks out of broken bricks." (Chalice, Robin McKinley)

So the task becomes finding a way to survive.  I am slowly getting better, but the battle is so very lonely and so very up-hill.  Up-hill both ways in 10 feet of snow.  And I hate being cold.

Today I am just trying to stay afloat, and really, that is enough.  One of my favorite things to do in a pool is float on my back, ears under water, and just breathe.  So today I am doing the home equivalent of that; I am giving myself a rest.  Doing just enough to stay breathing, but letting the rest go, allowing myself to simply be.

Is it hell if you are at peace with it?  Or is it only hell if you are fighting against it?  If today I give myself the grace to simply float where I am, can that perhaps be a small part of heaven instead? 

I choose to sit with my aching heart today; to allow myself to be real and to been seen with all the crazy, messy, complicated, broken parts of me held in that aching heart. And today, I am not asking for change, not asking to rebuild that which has been shattered.  Today, all I ask is to see all my hurt and give it a place to rest, a place where the water is warm and where those hurts can heal in their own time.

Making hell into heaven. 

And that is more than I thought I was capable of today, so it is more than enough for today.