Running shoes on but I walk. Turn right out the drive because I am feeling dangerous and left leads out of the neighborhood; I can feel myself, I might not return. So I go right. But I go far. Choose new turns to make the longest way back home.
I listen to the music and she sings my soul. Good thing someone has words, ’cause I’m out. Fuck. A writer without words. Jesus. I say it in my head, half prayer, half swear. Keep going. The air is cool and it’s no small blessing. It’s September in Florida and I’m stifled.
Uphill again and I don’t mind the strain. Maybe I’ll get stronger. At least thinner, that might help some. No, it won’t. Climb anyway. Past houses that are too big for their lots and how did I end up here? Where did this life come from, stuffed in a great big house, Russian dolls stacked wrong-ways? Jesus.
The grass offers me recline but I have to keep going. I don’t know where, just go. I walk past woods that lead down to a creek and I get why Virginia Woolf filled her pockets with rocks. Jesus. Keep on going and the daisy-looking weeds are hopeful, remind me of the girl who brought me one home from her happy walk, left it on my bathroom counter. Left it amid my mess.
The trees dip branches toward me and I’d like to touch nature but I can’t yet; it’s too good. So I lift a silent doxology, praise the God from whom all blessings flow, trust they keep coming even when I can’t feel them. Walk on, about halfway home.
End of the road and I have a choice. Out of the neighborhood and across the four-lane highway? Dangerous, dangerous. Cars and speed and me. Jesus. But across the highway, lit bright by dusking sun, a field. He’s talked of it, where it leads to a path, so beautiful– I’ve never seen it. She’s been there, promised to take me, when we could see stars and burn our own fire. Slow my pace at the end of the road and consider it. A field to lie down in, and space.
But I turn toward the road that leads home, have to go, have to be there; for them, maybe even for me. Two neighborhood girls, one on bike, chatting easily but the one with the frizzy ponytail and chubby frame reminds me. I knew the girl in high school, and now he’s a man, blessed doctors helped him match his outsides to his in. Hope someday I’ll match, but hell if there’s an operation for that.
Nearing home and I pass a tree. Think about touching its bark, but the effort even to feel is too much. Pass it by, pass it by, dammit. Jesus. Up ahead I see more trees, new chances to feel; think about it– maybe. This one’s too far, I refuse to reach. Same for the next three lawns. Wish the trees were closer; can’t will myself near. Only two houses away from home now and this might be my last chance– touch the one closest to me. It’s rough and I rub its dust between my fingers. Thought it might feel like pain, but still nothing.
Keep going, slow as I can and still look normal. Jesus. One more tree, house before mine, I just want to do it so I do. This one’s sharper and I almost like the small hurt; at least I can feel.
Head up my driveway but the garage door’s shut. Turn up the walk and knock on my door like a stranger. Jesus. Oldest child lets me in, he’s half man and where have I been, and he’s built a new home of pillows and blankets for the littlest ones, and they love it. They invite me in, and I want to go. I just don’t know if I’ll fit.
***
As with all my posts on depression, I’ve waited to share with you until I am well again. If you’d like to read more of my writing on the topic, please see the following posts and check out Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression, to which I am a contributing author.
can’t “like” it, can’t understand all of it, but I can feel the fit, the not fitting.
i recognize the circuit and I cry Jesus, too. Glad He leads us beside quiet waters, into pillow blanket houses where we can fit beside Him even if nowhere else. x
“We can fit beside Him even if nowhere else.” This is grace; thanks for reminding me.
I know this walk, all messed up and confused inside. Wondering and cussing and thinking that leaving, running away may fix it all.
Glad you stayed safe, for you, for them
Thanks for sharing your raw parts. I feel less alone.
I am so grateful it makes you feel less alone. That’s what makes me click “publish” on this sorts of posts. xo
Oh heavens, I’ve been there. Thank you for sharing so openly!
Always.
I’ve been there, am there, will be there. A wretched cycle, may we find peace for today.
“Peace for today.” What a relief of a prayer. Amen. And I pray it for you, friend, now.
I am there with you. I’ve been on meds for about 6 months and it helps but the shadow is still there. I have good days and not so good ones. Just know that I value your friendship and your honesty. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself.
Kirsten, I’m glad the meds help some. They just can’t fix all, can they? Bummer how life is still fucked up even despite our efforts. At least there’s grace amid the shadows.
Once again Tamara you have ripped open my heart and soul to touch its deepest level. So many of us can relate, and you say the words so many cannot find. Thank you for that.
You’re welcome. It’s my honor to give words to the hearts that need them.
Glad you are ‘well again’ and out of the muck. ‘Tis no fun to “walk in the valley of the shadow” of depression, even if we have his promise that we need to fear no evil while passing through. A bit ironic that God allows someone who brings others such joy to go through such difficult seasons.
Thanks for sharing…. your ‘no words’ speaks volumes.
Thanks, Dan. I trust God has a mighty plan, that He allows the struggle for good reason. It’s a scary and joyful thing to find oneself His servant.
Glad you’ve emerged from underwater. You know I love you.
And I, you.
Been missing you, thinking of you – but was too dense to realize that your absence might signal another go-round in the valley. I am both sorry for that – and grateful for it. Because you choose to open your veins and bleed this truth out here for us all to read, we, too, are saved, healed, reminded we are not alone. I am always glad and grateful to see you here, whether you’re in the fog, coming out of it or free of it completely. Your words always invite us in. Thank you.
I’m so glad you and others feel invited in– that’s the point, of course.
T: I should have known. Because you have been quiet. But I have been quiet, too. Forgive me for not checking in on you. I’ve been grieving some of my own things. Some stupid and some scary. I wish I could have walked beside you, slowly. I would have held you up. We would have reminded each other of things.
My quiet has also just been busyness– it’s okay. I’m so sorry you’ve been grieving and that I’ve been too far to know it. You’re beside me now; you’re still reminding me. All love to you, my friend.
Blessed.
Love you.
I was reading this, wondering, “Why do I know this? Why is this so familiar?” And then I remembered. I had actually forgotten, which blew me away. For years, I wandered back and forth between mania and depression, sometimes greater, sometimes lesser, but still…
I just want to say, there is hope. A radical encounter with God took care of it, Until now, I hadn’t even realized, but it’s been several years. I pray the same for you. Shalom.
Hugs.
So wonderful that you’ve been blessed with that shalom. Some of us who know the Lord still have to walk through dark valleys. But we’ll all get there, to the other side. It will be well. It will be shalom for us all.
I’m not offering easy answers or making guarantees. But I know God loves us, and i know he still does miracles. Hence my prayers. But yes, one way or another, we will all find full shalom.
For all of you.
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Tamara, thanks for this gift of grace. I connect to your words here in a powerful way. I appreciate your depth and insight. Peace.
You are so welcome, Glen. Thank you for reading and letting me know you connected.
Oh goodness. I know this. You are good to share.
I’m sorry you know it, Mattie. Grateful my sharing means something to you.
So glad you have emerged from underneath. It’s not surprising, really, that someone who brings such life, love, and freedom to so many would be thus oppressed. Your work is opposed. Let us posit that, say, WaWiW is your Mt. Carmel. What happened to Elijah after that great victory, after giving so much of himself to so many?
He ran.
Believed he was alone.
But it was a lie.
Those of us who write–who create–who approach the world with heightened sensitivities are particularly vulnerable to this lie.
May God’s angels, as they did for Jesus after his wilderness trial, minister to you.
Thanks for sharing your heart.
Yes, amen. I was just reading yesterday in Mark 1 that immediately after Jesus’ being anointed with the Spirit, he was led into the wilderness. If I’m his disciple, I can only count it a blessing to walk his steps.
“Jesus. I say it in my head, half prayer, half swear.”
I’ve read this line over and over and every time it’s like a shot straight to the heart. I’ve been there. I am there. I’ll probably be there for a long time. Thank you for writing this and helping me feel like at least one person really gets it.
I’m sorry you’re there, Lauryn. I do get it. And I think that Jesus can do a lot with even half a prayer.
PTSD in church today. Our new church. The one that was supposed to be safe. I know the not fitting, and I curled myself into the indent of a doorway so I could be outside the time and space, waiting for girls to emerge from first choir practice, practicing my fake smile for them so it wouldn’t look so fake. Into the car, I grab my iPhone and put the earbuds in. Have to check out. My husband tries to get me to talk, but I’m in the half-swear, half-prayer, still deer in the headlights. Two years now and I’m still running scared.
Thank you for sharing your walk with me. Feels like home.
It’s a long way home, isn’t it, Genevieve? There are lots of us journeying, though. We can go together. xo
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Amazing writing, Tamara.
from Risalei-Nur Collection by Said Nursi
Is it at all possible that a perfection of beauteous artistry should not desire to make itself known by means of a herald that will draw men’s gazes upon it?
Is it at all possible that the universal monarchy of all-embracing dominicality should not desire to announce its unity and eternal besoughtedness throughout the different levels of multiplicity and particularity by means of an envoy possessing two aspects? By the two aspects, we mean that he is both the envoy of the realm of multiplicity to the Divine Court, by virtue of his universal worship, and also the messenger of the Divine Court to the realm of multiplicity, by virtue of his closeness to God and being entrusted with His message.
Is it at all possible that a possessor of infinite inherent beauty should not wish both to behold himself and to display to others, in numerous mirrors, the charms of his beauty and the allurements of his fairness? God’s Messenger is His beloved, making himself beloved of Him by means of his worship and holding up a mirror to Him, and he is also the bearer of His message, making Him beloved of men and demonstrating to them the beauty of His Names.
Is it at all possible that the owner of treasuries full of wondrous miracles, rare and valuable items, should not wish and desire to display them to men’s gaze by means of an expert jeweller, and eloquent describer, thereby revealing his hidden perfections?
Is it at all possible that the One Who manifests the perfection of all His Names in the cosmos by means of artful adornment for men to look upon, so that the cosmos comes to resemble a palace decorated with all kinds of wondrous and subtle art, should not also designate a teacher and a guide to the wonders of his creation?
Is it at all possible that the Lord of the cosmos should not solve, by means of a messenger, the complex talisman of the aim and purpose of all the changes that take place in the cosmos, and the riddle contained in the three difficult questions posed by all beings: “What is our origin? What is our destination? What is our purpose?”
Is it at all possible that the Glorious Maker Who makes Himself known to sentient beings by means of His fair creation, and Who makes himself loved by means of His precious bounties, should not also communicate to sentient beings, by means of a messenger, what His pleasure desires of them in exchange?
Is it at all possible that God should create mankind in a form predisposing it to suffer the consciousness of multiplicity but also containing the ability to engage in universal worship, without at the same time wishing to turn it away from multiplicity to unity, by means of a teacher and guide?
Once, when I was suffering from depression, I read a quote in a book where the main character was depressed and she described, “wanting to be anywhere but inside [herself].” I thought those words described perfectly how I was feeling.
Thank you for sharing this. It can be scary, not to mention very difficult, to put into words what one feels when they are depressed. Your words help me reflect on my own experience and know I am not alone. I can especially identify with the nature and earth scenes mentioned. When I was depressed I envied birds for the first time. Watching them relaxed me and made me happy but I also envied their flight and freedom.
You are very brave and I’m glad to know you are healing.
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