One More Fight

Today I am in for the fight of my life. I knew before I opened my eyes that the darkness of depression was already settling in on my morning. Life had become more then I could handle it felt. I was depleted of my fight, my strength was nearly gone, my hope and faith waivered but I put my feet over the bed anyway. And stood like a toy soldier, preparing for battle. And that’s what life had become for me, a battle. A war to keep my mental health, a war against Lauren’s cerebral palsy, a war to keep my family together, a war against the harsh battles of every day life. I was worn down, I didn’t know how much longer my fuel and ammunition was going last. Would I be able to make it through another day, would I win this war one more time? Or would I fall beneath the load of it all? After all, I’m human, we all have a breaking point.

It was in 2012 that my last mental warfare began, a total mental and physical breakdown. It’s now 2019 and there are many days that depression devours my every being. Days when all I want to do is sleep (but can’t), days when the small everyday tasks seem so big that I have no clue how I’m going to be able to do it, times when I am so anxious that all I want to do is run, but run where? Days when my emotions are so out of control that I am frightened to death to go out in public; for fear of someone speaking to me and I would explode into a river of tears and drown in a lake of embarrassment. I thought by now my life would have gotten a little easier, my mental health improved (and it has to some degree), the troubles of life would have become fewer but in lots of ways they have become harder. Maybe it’s because every soldier gets tired of fighting, the battles just wear you down and you feel you have little fight left in you. Because every battle you fight, leaves you with a battle scar; weakened, tired, exhausted and bleeding. But you try desperately to hide those scars and pretend everything’s alright.

But oh the inward pain you cannot see, the scars beneath your tired flesh. If but for one moment you could look inside; the brokenness you would see. So be kind, gentle, non-judgemental and compassionate to those you meet, because you can’t see the pain they bear. Most days you may look at me and think that everything is okay but inside I may be dying; never judge a book by it’s cover. Even today as I sit at Robin’s with my thoughts, pen, paper and my coffee; I may appear fine. When in reality I’m trying to hold the pieces together.

Years have gone by, every day begins the same dreaded routine of just trying to be okay. Trying to pretend I’m okay, just to meet others expectations of me. I want to be well more then anything, I want this constant torment to end. But how do I make it go away? I have done everything humanly possible that I know and still this cloud of despair hangs over me and there’s nowhere I can go to escape it’s presence. I realize my diagnosis is a chronic one, meaning ‘persisting for a long time or constantly recurring’ (definition by Google). I wonder does a ‘long time’ mean a lifetime, because that’s what it’s been for me. I just pray that God gives me the strength and endurance to keep going, because right now I feel like I can’t fight anymore. How much fighting can one do before they reach a point where they can’t do it anymore?

That thought scares me to death! But I can’t give in, I can’t give up, I will trust even if it’s blind trust. I will have faith that things will get better, even if it’s borrowed faith. I will not loose hope, even when I fall, even when I feel I can’t fight anymore, I will fight! God help me and God help those who are travelling this same hellish road. May we stay strong, hold on to faith, get up when we fall, trust in God when we cannot see, hope when we have nothing left. Tomorrow will be better. I BELIEVE!