Monday, September 12, 2016


I have been watching some Ted Talks lately. Brené Brown has a couple of them, talking about vulnerability. And Glennon Doyle Melton talked about her past, sharing her vulnerability.

And it amazes me how much people try to numb themselves. Not that I don't understand the desire. I've felt those scary lows. Deeply. Intimately. And I know how bad they hurt and how much you start wondering if this is your new normal. That is, when depression isn't numbing me to nearly everything.

But you can't just numb the lows. You would numb all the highs, and I wouldn't give those up for anything. As bad as depression is, as bad as some of my life experiences have been (and I'm not ready to talk about them yet), I know that numbing the pain won't work.

That doesn't mean I've not done something to help in those bad times. Chocolate is helpful in keeping depression from fully taking over or pulling me away from the edge sometimes. My husband is even better at helping.

But I don't want to dim my life because I'm afraid of the lows. I don't want to miss the highs. I'd rather be vulnerable.

I'm pretty sure that I would probably find it easy to get addicted, if I let myself. (Sometimes it's a good thing to be a bit of a control freak.) But the lack of control, the lack of being able to think clearly, would spiral me further into panic.

So, I don't numb myself. I remain vulnerable. I keep my heart tender. And I suffer from people being stupid. But I get to feel joy at the idea of my sister's wedding (later this month). I get to rejoice at how precious my niece is (My sister had a baby nearly a year ago!). I get to be present and smile and laugh and cry and hurt. And I don't have to fight to figure out how to get past all those long ignored emotions to be here.

I don't proclaim myself better than anyone else. I'm just doing my best. I'm trying to figure out my next right thing. I have hardly any of the answers.

But I do know that numb is not the way to go through life.

(At some point, I will post about something positive. I just don't know when that will be. I seem to be working through some things.)

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Let's Be Honest Here

Note: I haven't posted in forever, I know. I don't even know what I last wrote about, and I know at one point I promised funny stories about trucking. This is not that post. I don't know if that post will ever exist, because sometimes that is how my life goes. I have these good intentions, and then other things become urgent and important (not the same thing, by the way) and they take over everything. (End random semi-explanation, start actual post)

I'm getting more honest with myself. We were watching a documentary on Netflix about Tony Robbins (called Tony Robbins: I Am Not Your Guru). I realized that if I had been there, the biggest thing I want to change in my life does not have to do with our finances (even though I want them to change) or the fact that we are still not parents yet (I realized how much of a blessing that has been the last few years, even though I've been wanting to be a mom through them all). The biggest thing I want to change in my life is to stop hating myself.

I don't always hate myself. In fact, I'm often fond of me. I know I have my issues, but I am working on them. I am not just settling and declaring myself done with growing.

But then there are those days. The ones that I spend the whole day wanting to go lay back down because being upright is just so pointless. The ones where I feel like I can do nothing right and all the mistakes I've made in the past two or three years come back to haunt me. And the memories won't shut up. Depression tries to come back.

And on those days, I hate myself. For feeling week enough to believe the lies that depression makes. For believing the harmful things that my mother said so many years ago are things that are still true. For not loving myself enough.

I don't want to hurt myself, even on those bad days. But depression isn't about physical pain, although there is usually some of that with the emotional pain. I just want to lay down and not move, because it feels like there is no point.

I am thankful for my husband, who doesn't let me dwell in the pain and spiraling lies. He brings me food and does whatever he can to make me laugh. He hugs me and gives me the love I can't seem to give myself. He won't leave me alone in my pain, which is the best thing for me, despite depression telling me that I don't deserve these things.

I want to stop hating myself. I want to love me, even on bad days. If I do, maybe they won't be so bad. I want to know, without a doubt, that I am better than all those bad thoughts tell me I am. And most days, I do feel that way. And I am so thankful for that.

I am stronger than I think.

And so are you.