The last few days are the first in awhile that I could see a substantial light at the end of the tunnel. I have felt like myself (whoever that is, I lose track sometimes). I have felt happiness, some passion, some motivation returning, without the impending heaviness of what tomorrow may bring. There is no guarantee that the worst is over, but I like feeling like it is.
Today I saw my life in perspective. Not as me, the terrible mother, wife, and person in general. But as a separate person altogether. I cut myself some slack (as I am constantly having to remind myself to do). I allowed myself to see my life as it is: complicated and messy. And me as I am: an imperfect, struggling human being who doesn't have it together, but also doesn't need to (even if I feel like I do).
On days that I am able I make an extra effort to feel good and "normal". I not only get dressed, but also shower, do my hair, make up, and even paint my nails (bright red, which I have found I love, even if it chips and looks like crap within a day). Some days I even brave my six month old's grab-and-yank habit and wear earrings. I let myself believe I'm beautiful and try to live it. I don't care what anyone says, looking good does help (even if just temporarily). I make play dates and do some desperately needed cleaning. I even get on facebook and like the hell out of things or comment on random statuses that have nothing to do with me (for the sake of being normal, of course). On occasion I even find it in me to write or have good conversation in which I extract meaning from the hard times (which on bad days I look back on and think, "How petty and small minded! It is obvious life has no meaning and there is no hope...")
Moments I can give my sons genuine smiles, I smother them with them. I tell them they are loved, hold them tight, praise them, shower them with kisses. I do all that I can to make up for the days full of tears, screaming, or distant numbness. I use what energy I can muster to express my love so loudly that it's not forgotten on the dark days. They are young still and don't hold grudges yet. I am thankful for that.
The thing I hate most about depression is seeing the way it effects the ones I love. The hurt look in my husbands eyes when I say something I don't mean. Or say nothing because I don't know what anything means. The shocked and confused look on my son's face when I lose all self control and hurl myself on my bed in tears. The adoring eyes of my baby, who doesn't know any better than to think I am the world.
God is good. Even when I can't feel it. So when I can I must proclaim it. GOD IS GOOD! Not because life always feels good. But because even when it is not, He is there. Even when I can't acknowledge His presence, much less praise Him, He is there. I always feel like God is just sitting there waiting to bring me down, put me in my place, show me how little and insignificant I am. But really, I don't think God's love is conditional. I also believe it has no limits. And if that is the case, no amount (or lack of) greatness or significance should have any effect on his love for me. This is good news for me.