Change and Movement

When I was pregnant with Quinn, I spent the last three months doing nothing but sitting on a couch that have never been sat on before. I watched a marathon of judging Amy on TNT. After the last episode, I just sat there looking at a blank TV. I had no desire to get up. I was perfectly content with my legs hanging over the side of the armchair with my big belly just growing and growing. I was at peace. And I thought to myself, "This must be the new me. Strange. I used to have so much ambition. The new me is pretty chill. Ok, Awesome." And I didn't really think about it after that.

Quinn Was BORN ON MARCH 10 IN A PRETTY TRAUMATIC BIRTHING EXPERIENCE. BY MARCH 13 I WAS THINKING "IF ONLY I COULD CONTROL MY OWN BLADDER, I COULD GET BACK TO THE OFFICE AND GET SOME WORK DONE."

I was back to my old self. I was older, wiser, and ready to go back to work. I'll never forget that fast change. I'll never forget how convinced I was during those 3 months that there was a new me. That was so real to me. And I'll never forget how fast I went back to the old me. Both me's were wonderful. It was just strange that there was such a drastic change.

In early January of this year, I fell into a pretty deep depression. I guess they call it a depressive episode. There were a few triggers, but mostly it was just a drastic, fast change. I couldn't get up. I didn't have a reason to. I watched TV for almost 2 solid weeks. I barely took care of my children. I barely talked to anyone. The moment the depression started felt like a death. I would have moments where I would forget about it. And then I would remember that death and feel that grief. And it was a downward spiral.

I couldn't talk to anyone for a few reasons. First, I had no energy. Second, I couldn't describe what was happening. And when I did have moments when I could describe what was happening, I didn't want to put that on anybody. Not because I didn't want them to feel sad for me, but because I was pretty convinced that if they knew how sad I felt, they would feel that sadness and be stuck like me. I was so convinced that my reality had shifted that it felt like I was holding a secret to the universe. Telling someone would have been like saying, "hey, did you know there is no hope, purpose, or joy in the world?" And then the person would know the truth and be horrified like me. I didn't dare take somebody else's joy away, so I kept quiet.

Well, I was eventually willing to take Tim's joy away. So I told him what was going on. We where able to have some important talks that really helped. After that, three things really helped me:

I read about depression, and I found out that I'm not the only person to suddenly feel like there is no hope in the world. Apparently this happens to people. It's called depression. It's real. It's an entity. It happens.

The, Once I knew it I was dealing with, I was able to look back on my life and realize this was not my first rodeo. I do not have problems with depression. I do not believe that I have mental illness. But there's been at least three distinct times in my life where I felt depressed -- Where I had a depressive episode. I took time to think and ponder about those times in my life and to be proud of myself for how I recovered back then. I also took time to be disappointed about some of the decisions I made at those and other times. It was humbling. I was connecting with my former self. I was trying to see my future self. It was reflective. And it helped.

And, also, I talked to a doctor about it. Of course. I am not crazy. If you have thoughts about death, you should get help. End of story. So I did. Among other things, the doctor gave me the advice to not stop moving my body. When the darkest moments come, get up and move your body. shake your arms. do anything to keep the energy in your soul flowing. I thought this was beautiful and simple advice. I feel like people like to say, " just get up and do something!" But that's not what he was saying. He was giving me a medical prescription to move my freaking arms so I didn't fall into a statue of death and gloom. Medicinal. It felt like something I could do. If I was going to watch five episodes of Dowton Abbey, I made sure to get up and put in a batch of cookies in the oven every now and then. Every little bit helped.

So that was the start of my recovery. It gave me the freedom to think about the triggers in my life. And it got me to the point where I felt safe riding out the storm because I started to believe the storm would end. And it has now. For now anyway.

When I started to feel better, I got a little manic. I was just so grateful to have energy and excitement back in my life that I worked harder and volunteered for everything. Looks like I'm a soccer coach now! LOL I'm also the leader and founder of the new moms groups for Unitarian Universalists in Nashville. I'm doing extra at work to help my students, and I'm sending more time with the children. I'm also thinking about inequity in my community and looking for ways to educate myself and others and create progress. I hope I do not crash. I know that's an option. But I don't think I will.

So, in summary, here's what I've come too. I left my church. I left my church that had a really beautiful story but why you're here and what happens when you die. And then my baby and I almost died in childbirth. As I've said before, I faced the scariest moment of my life. It changed me. I don't see life in the same way anymore. I don't deal with problems the same way anymore. The trauma still affects me. It triggers me. And in January it threw me into an existential crisis that led to a depressive episode. That's what it will always look like on paper I guess -- "An existential crisis that led to a depressive episode." The pain was deep and real and it felt like I was a new person with no light and no future. It was scary. It was dark. It was horrible.

But I'm feeling really good now for whatever it's worth. I like the direction I'm going. I can't solve all my problems right now. I can't solve all the world's problems right now. But I'm gonna be an awesome soccer coach, and I'm gonna lead this moms group like it's nobody's business. I'm just going to keep going. And keep moving.

But a piece of me is changed forever. Now when you talk to me about your dark days, I think I'll be able to hear a little better and love you a little more.

I'll do that for myself too, if the darkness finds me again.