Sunday Inspirations March 22, 2009

The truth is I've been feeling quite inspiration-less these last two weeks. Though I have a good day every now and again, my depression has hit a point when I can no longer claim I can take care of it myself.

Earlier last week I lay on the couch, completely unable to move. I was so physically tired I fell asleep, even when I kept telling myself no because I did have to pick up my son from school. If my husband hadn't called and woken me up, I don't know if I would have made it to pick B up on time. Only a day or so later it was time for me to fix dinner. You have no idea what an extraordinary effort it took to get me into the kitchen, only to cook up something simple.

For several months now my husband has been encouraging me to go into our family doctor to talk about the possibility of depression medication. Likewise my mother has been gently suggesting I speak with a therapist. To both of these ideas I said no, not because I didn't think I could benefit from them, but rather because I never wanted to feel as though I was taking what seemed to me an easier or more selfish road. Easier because taking a pill doesn't require much effort. Selfish because I think of what others in my own neighborhood are enduring, and what are my problems compared to theirs? How can I justify taking someone else's slot with a therapist when someone else who is far more needful of counseling might be there instead?

I've been on depression meds before. Shortly after the death of our son I needed something to help me cope with life. I only had to be on them a few months, but they were precisely what I needed to get back on my feet. Of course that was nine years ago. I did well for several years, but these last few have seen me struggling to pull myself out of this dark and oppressive state of being.

This last year has by far been the worst. I don't know precisely what has set me off on such a downhill course, but there has been no going back uphill. I have good days, but how sad is it to say I have some good days, rather than the occasional bad day.

But no, I needed no help. With the Spring things would get better. With a bit of exercise I could feel happier. If I ate a little better my outlook would brighten. I would read my scriptures more, pray more, attend church with more determination, soaking in every word I heard or taught. By sheer force of will I would get better.

And for a day or two, I would, but the sadness invariably settled back in, sometimes worse than before. This last week when my husband again suggested going to the doctor, I did not immediately say no. Instead I asked for a blessing.

There are no words to describe what it feels like to have the hands of worthy and righteous holders of the priesthood placed on one's head preparatory to having a blessing bestowed. On Saturday my husband, my father, and my younger brother all did so, and gave to me a blessing from my Heavenly Father. Many things were said, more than I had expected and most of which I've forgotten. One thing rang loud and clear. "You can't do this on your own," I was told. "This is an hindrance," it was said.

Here is when this post will become an inspiration rather than a pity party. We all have crosses to bear, some we take on ourselves, some which are placed upon us due to the choices of others, and some God gives us to help us grow and learn. In all things we must do everything in our power to do all we can to bear our crosses. Then, and here's the part you really need to concentrate on, there are times when we must finally acknowledge we honestly have done all we can.

The Lord does not intend for us to suffer needlessly, not when there are no more lessons to be learned nor when there are ways to help us get better. Some of us get this idea early on and are able to find the blessings of health without putting ourselves through unnecessary hardships. Other of us (and I definitely include myself in this group) are a bit stubborn in relenting and admitting we honestly can't do it all on our own.

My Heavenly Father and my Brother want me to be happy. They want to see my children with a mother who has the energy and will to play with and take care of and teach them. They want to see my husband with a wife who he doesn't have to constantly worry about, who can support him in his work, and will bring happiness into the home without so much effort. Most of all, They want to see me reach the potential They know I posses, potential I cannot attain while smothered by this relentless and overwhelming sadness.

So now, I look forward to this new week filled with hope for honest change - a hope that feels more real and more promising than anything I could have done on my own.