True Confessions

I will give you
the treasures of darkness

         And
hidden wealth of secret places,

         So that you may know that it is I,

         The LORD, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name. Isaiah 45:3

I saw this verse at the end of a book I was reading this morning and ever since I have tried to grasp what treasure and wealth could possibly be mined from dark and secret places. As mentioned previously, depression is the giant ogre I am currently battling. 

Sister Theresa, who remains the embodiment for living ones beliefs, was recently revealed to have felt cut off from God for much of her life. And yet, she lived a life of faith and compassion; changing the life of countless people.

For me, who certainly isn't expecting sainthood at any point in the future, a byproduct of the one-dimensional, grey-scale world that is depression is this tooth-achey feeling that I am separated from God. That I cannot quite work up the energy to break through the fog that seems to flow between me, God, and the world. These song lyrics (by Jack's Mannequin) "I Called on Jesus, but He didn't check His phone today..." daringly put into words a feeling I haven't heard many Christians express.

This is depression, I know. It is an elephant sitting on my head, cotton wool clogging up my brain, and Marley's chains insidiously holding me down. 

Maybe the treasure of darkness is surviving it. The self knowledge that I have conquered another day. I saw the darkness and dang nabbit it didn't get me this time. And, if I am fortunate, the wealth from secret places will come from being open with my depression. Maybe someone else can relate to and even be helped by my experience.

Another aspect is not allowing my feelings to dictate how I live my life. If I did that, who knows where I would be. Probably stranded and out of gas in an old rusted out beater, all alone in the middle of Death Valley. Instead, I remain committed to tomorrow, to praise and prayer, to family and friends. The real treasures of my life.

Job Posting: Not For the Faint of Heart

I started this post last week and couldn't find the words to speak with an authentic voice. Right now, depression is kicking me in the rear end and I don't have much enthusiasm for anything. My world feels one dimensional. It is commonly misunderstood about depression that people who suffer with it will be sad and sit like a lump in the corner. I tend to put on my shiny happy face to the world and deal with it internally. I am doing all the right things to care for myself; working with a doc on meds, talking with my fabulous counselor; and most importantly, being open about my struggle. Depression is a byproduct of MS and therefore very difficult to treat.


Something I am working on is putting away the happy mask and being more authentic. Not sure yet what that will look like, but I am working on it.


To not put too fine a point on it—opting to be in the life of a person with MS takes the guts of arctic explorer Shackleton, the determination  of Joel Waul (who?), the compassion of Sister Theresa, the creativity of Alexander Calder (who?), and the humor of Gilda Radner.
What then is the role of the person with MS? My tendency is to feel obligation and guilt for the extra load of crap that this illness dumps on everyone around me. I say I am fine when I am drowning. I eat my casserole without added salt because I can't bring myself to ask for one more thing. I say I am sorry over and over to cover up the way it makes me feel to ask and ask and ask.
I am slowly coming to the realization that for those who have chosen to stay I am not in control of how they choose to react to my requests. Nor am I responsible for the choice of friends who have slipped away.
I have to stop saying I am sorry for asking for help, sorry for being in a bad mood, sorry for being sad, sorry for being sorry. My MS story includes chronic pain, pernicious depression, and cognitive and physical deterioration. And, if people are honestly willing to stick around, they are signing up for extra ordinary duty. I need help. All of the time. And it sucks to be needy.
I am trying to peel away the layers of guilt and obligation and accept that this is my life, these people have chosen to be in it and together we have a challenging journey.
So, I am not sorry - and, maybe I need to carry around a roll of quarters and ask everyone to fine me it they catch me saying it.

Thank you for choosing to be a part of my life!