Depression and Grace
It's a depression day.
I'm stuffing my face with junk food, staring at my phone, sleeping whenever I can, all to fill this painful hollow in my chest. It's not filling up at all - it's like a cup with a hole in it.
On "good" days, the hole is sealed and the cup easily filled. On depression days, something (I'm not always sure what) has ripped open the hole in the bottom of the cup and I'm scrambling to plug the hole and fill the cup again. I can't seem to do either successfully.
"Read your scriptures, Kara. Pray. Look on the bright side. Go for a walk. Blah blah blah."
Oh right. I forgot. Those things always work, right? No, they don't always work. They don't always seal the hole. In fact, just contemplating them while in the midst of depression can send a searing pain through my chest and I sometimes physically shudder. My shoulders and chest cave in and I have to resist the urge to curl up in the fetal position.
A nasty little voice in my mind mocks and spites me as I fight the depression. "You're pathetic. You're a terrible mother. You're always going to be this way. You're a failure. You should just give up on everything and waste away. You should succumb to your failure and let everyone know you can't do a dang thing for yourself or anyone else."
I find myself nodding along with this train of thought. "It would be easy enough. Easier than fighting my body, mind, and heart. Easier than trying to encourage myself with what feels like complete and utter nonsense. I should just go lie down and ask everyone else to pick up my slack because I'm a loser and I'll never be able to live this life the way I'm meant to."
But no. This is old thinking. This is anxiety and depression and Satan all conspiring to keep me small and lost. I don't have to stay stuck here. I don't have to.
I know one of the things that keeps ripping a hole in the bottom of that stupid cup is shame. Another one is perfectionism. They're closely related and they make me crazy. I'm not a terrible mom when I don't do things perfectly. I'm not a failure just because I struggle to get out of bed some days. I'm not a loser and I don't need to give up on life.
I need to give myself grace. How can I accept grace from others and from God (which we are commanded to do!) if I can't accept it from myself?
Self, it's okay that you want to hide in the house and eat junk food and figuratively lick your wounds. Take care of your heart, or it won't be strong enough to take care of anyone else. You deserve to give yourself grace, and other people deserve for you to be whole.
You can do this.
I'm stuffing my face with junk food, staring at my phone, sleeping whenever I can, all to fill this painful hollow in my chest. It's not filling up at all - it's like a cup with a hole in it.
On "good" days, the hole is sealed and the cup easily filled. On depression days, something (I'm not always sure what) has ripped open the hole in the bottom of the cup and I'm scrambling to plug the hole and fill the cup again. I can't seem to do either successfully.
"Read your scriptures, Kara. Pray. Look on the bright side. Go for a walk. Blah blah blah."
Oh right. I forgot. Those things always work, right? No, they don't always work. They don't always seal the hole. In fact, just contemplating them while in the midst of depression can send a searing pain through my chest and I sometimes physically shudder. My shoulders and chest cave in and I have to resist the urge to curl up in the fetal position.
A nasty little voice in my mind mocks and spites me as I fight the depression. "You're pathetic. You're a terrible mother. You're always going to be this way. You're a failure. You should just give up on everything and waste away. You should succumb to your failure and let everyone know you can't do a dang thing for yourself or anyone else."
I find myself nodding along with this train of thought. "It would be easy enough. Easier than fighting my body, mind, and heart. Easier than trying to encourage myself with what feels like complete and utter nonsense. I should just go lie down and ask everyone else to pick up my slack because I'm a loser and I'll never be able to live this life the way I'm meant to."
But no. This is old thinking. This is anxiety and depression and Satan all conspiring to keep me small and lost. I don't have to stay stuck here. I don't have to.
I know one of the things that keeps ripping a hole in the bottom of that stupid cup is shame. Another one is perfectionism. They're closely related and they make me crazy. I'm not a terrible mom when I don't do things perfectly. I'm not a failure just because I struggle to get out of bed some days. I'm not a loser and I don't need to give up on life.
I need to give myself grace. How can I accept grace from others and from God (which we are commanded to do!) if I can't accept it from myself?
Self, it's okay that you want to hide in the house and eat junk food and figuratively lick your wounds. Take care of your heart, or it won't be strong enough to take care of anyone else. You deserve to give yourself grace, and other people deserve for you to be whole.
You can do this.
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