When I don't even realize I'm struggling

You would think that by now I would recognize the signs that a quiet wave of depression has curled around me. But no. Yesterday, I had to laugh at myself for how I'd missed the obvious yet again.

When there is such big emotion hanging out in the background all the time, the more subtle shifts of mood don't always stand out in a noticeable way. If you had asked me how I was doing as the nine-month mark rolled around, I would have said that I was doing pretty well. It didn't take me down in a big way. I did not have a big, teary breakdown. I actually felt pretty good, which was such a relief.

A while back, I read that people often go into an emotional slump in the days leading up to a grief milestone. I want to take good care of my mental health, so I try to pay careful attention. In the week before this "monthiversary" I was taking my emotional temperature regularly, checking in on my mental state. My inner weather was a little bit overcast, but there were no big storms looming.

And then yesterday, when I washed my hair for the first time in four days, the lights dawned. Oooh. One of the easiest signs to read, to indicate that some level of depression has showed up, is when daily self-care starts to feel like too much effort. Right. I know this. But for all of my watchful care, I missed it. I thought I was doing pretty well, and in a way I was, but I overlooked the part where I just sort of stopped moving for all of Monday, and that while I had showered, washing my hair just seemed like too much work for a few days.

Apparently I was a little depressed as those hard days rolled around again. As we said back in the 80s, "Well, duh!" Of course the clouds closed in. Of course they did! I should be concerned if the days of Michael's death came around and it did not impact me.

So if you ever wonder whether you're dealing with subtle levels of depression, that's a tell-tale sign to watch for: that basic things like showering, getting dressed or making food for yourself just seem too hard to bother with.

If you do realize you're in that place, what can you do? For me there is a quick antidote that, while it doesn't "fix" the reality of my emotional state, does move me into a better place. It's simple- I go outside. Yesterday afternoon, as I was pondering this, the lady from the RV park office called to say that we had some packages to pick up. (Our Amazon orders have been rolling in. Yay!) It's a very short walk, but as I was on my way back to our trailer, I suddenly realized how much good it had done me. Just those few minutes of fresh air and sunshine had shaken me out of the rut. It gave me just enough of a boost to help me head in a better direction.

I love what a friend shared recently on Facebook. She had been depressed, so her daughter invited her for a hike. That's so perfect! Not, "You need to pull yourself together," but, "Mom, will you go for a hike with me?" What a loving way to reach out.

When someone is in that sinking state, big, energetic interventions may not be the answer. I did not have the energy or capacity for some high level of exertion or engagement. A simple, gentle walk, though. That I can manage. Gentle, simple things are the answer for me at that point. Take a shower. Put on clothes that lift me up. (Which involves getting out of the jammies!) Take a little walk. Eat something healthy but easy, like an apple and some nuts. Get hydrated. Put in a CD of pleasant, uplifting music.

Which leads me to a whole other face of this struggle. As with all of those practical ideas, the things that are vital for spiritual health also fall into that "just what I need, but so hard to manage" space. I know for a certainty that reading God's Word and talking to Him help me in deep and life-giving ways. But when the clouds roll in, those things, like all the rest, just feel too hard. A key for me, something that feels possible, is putting in a CD or playing worship music on my phone. Having those Jesus-focused words flowing into my space helps move me to a place where the other good things start to feel possible.

All of God's love and help is all around me, ready to comfort my heart and lift me up. I know that all I have to do is reach out for it...but depression makes that hard to do. Depression is like having layer after layer of soft wispy draperies drifting down over me. Their touch at first is imperceptible, but as they accumulate, they weigh me down until I can hardly move at all.

Maybe next month, when the 24th and 25th roll around, I'll remember to be prepared for the impact it will have on my basic ability to function. I won't have a big list of things that I hope to accomplish on those days, so I won't beat myself up for failing on the list. I won't expect myself to accomplish anything. I'll be sure that my favorite comfy, comforting clothes are clean. Maybe I'll plan to watch an easy, happy movie or two. Maybe I will have cooked ahead, so that I have easy, good options for meals already prepared on those harder days. Maybe I will write myself a note with a few simple reminders, like playing worship music to blow the clouds away and lift the layers that weight me down, . I will reach out and take hold of the hand of Jesus, and let Him help me. And I will go outside, even for just a few minutes, to breathe fresher air and feel the sun on my face.