The Concrete Box

Depression looks different for everyone because everyone is different. Hello, I’m Captain Obvious, your blogger for today.
For me, depression is different on different days because I differ a lot from day to day (say it ten times fast).
Because it isn’t something I battle with on a chronic basis, I always assumed that depression was an Eeyore-state of living where days were gloomy and clouds were grey and all the other people bounced around you on their tiger-striped tails, eating honey, picking carrots, and laughing in the sunshine.

Sometimes it is.
But mostly -for me -it’s feeling like I’m trapped in a thick concrete cube. Accessing the outside world -connecting with my environment and the amazing people around me -takes monumental effort. It is absolutely exhausting, and takes ALL of me.
It’s so much easier to sit in my quiet cube and watch a movie or two. It isn’t rewarding, but it’s much easier.
Of course it’s more rewarding to CONNECT with people… myself, God… the concrete walls keep God out just as firmly and resolutely as they keep other people out. Accessing the heavens feels like running a sort of marathon: my prayers need to be constant, methodical, sometimes giving me more energy, sometimes making me feels as if I can’t. send. one. more. up.

I’ve been taking supplements, this is true. And they help, this is also true. But not everyday. Yea, not every WEEK. And this past week, I’ve been battling The Concrete Cube. And by “battling” I mean pounding firmly against the walls, shouting loudly at my family on the other side, and then sitting with my back against them and sleeping as long and much as possible because IT IS TIRING.
I’m not sad. The skies are not grey.
I’m just very tired, and my box has no door.
I can hear life swirling around me. I know God is out there. I know because I don’t ALWAYS live in the box, and I’ve had powerful experiences with Heavenly Father by my side. I’ve connected deeply with my friends and family.
I hold onto hope that this box will eventually get up and move on. I mean… I have hope TODAY because yesterday I was starting to believe -as the blank unholy walls of the box would have me believe -that I AM LIKE THIS ALWAYS AND FOREVER. THIS IS ME. I AM TIRED. I AM DISCONNECTED. LIFE IS PASSING ME BY WHILE I WATCH DOWNTON ABBEY.

But something popped up in my facebook feed yesterday, and it hit me. I see quotes everyday, read them and think, ‘oh, how nice.’
This one, though, this one -made it through the concrete and touched me.

It isn’t that I’m ignoring God. It’s simply that feeling His hand in my life these days has had more of the “ebb” feel and less of the “flow.” As my day went on, it seemed out to get me and included a stranger showing up on my porch asking for directions to other people’s houses and then asking for ALL OF MY CATS.
No, no. Not even The Horrible Mother can go to strangers. Not Sickie. Not Toothless. Not Cheeky. And please leave my porch because even through all of this concrete, I can feel my gut screaming that I AM NOT SAFE.

After the sun set and the world turned chilly, my phone vibrated.
A text.
It was from a woman I’d briefly met and exchanged phone numbers with five months ago. She thanked me for being me and told me how much she appreciated my writing.
Was that random?
I don’t believe anything is random.

I took her words to bed with me -they felt just as warm as my thick blanket. I checked facebook from my phone and found another message from another precious friend, letting me know that she missed me and loved me.
Was it coincidence?
I don’t believe anything is coincidence.

I believe I can’t evade the presence of God, not even in my box.
And yesterday God let me loudly know that He’s here, His angels are just a text and message away, and The Box is not me.

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