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Saturday, September 5, 2015

I'm not finished.

I'm not even really sure where to start with this, as I feel this confession is long overdue. I've been struggling with depression most of the summer. Really the entire summer, if I am being honest. And my entire adult life. And much of my childhood. 

I really hadn't realized how bad it had become until today. I had the longest run of seasonal depression in my life last winter. That hung around until about February. By May I was descending quickly once again. 

I knew that I needed to make some changes in my life. I struggle with change. I like the calmness of routine. I thrive on simple. Peaceful. Calm. 
Anything beyond that is chaos for me. 

I turned 40 this year and I thought this would be a year of amazing growth. And it has been. And it will continue to be. What I didn't consider was how painful growth is. How difficult it is to sit with the pain. 

I'm such a creature of habit. My routines are my sanity. They help me to feel in control when I feel like I can't control so many things in my life. 

As I opened up my refrigerator this afternoon I realized what a mess it was. There wasn't anything growing or crawling around. I found only one outdated product. It was just the spills, splatter, and general stickiness that comes along with a family of 6 when 5 of those members take for granted that one will always clean it up. 

As I started to scrub and organize the shelves I felt a sense of calm. Restoring routine and order in my life will be the key to me getting out of this hole before the holidays get here. 

After I cleaned the fridge I decided that cleaning the floor underneath it needed to happen. I hadn't cleaned underneath it yet this year. Something that I try to do at least once a quarter. It was awful. 

As I stood there considering the best way to tackle this mess I started to tear up. THIS is how bad it had gotten. I am so depressed that I can't even muster the motivation to complete my daily routines around the house anymore. 

This is when the anger set it. How does someone get this depressed and no one had cause for concern? How did my husband not see it? How could he not see that I wasn't myself? That I needed help! The disconnect blows my mind. 
I don't know how to live like that. There have been days when I just didn't want to live anymore. I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to fade away. 

I opened up my Zone cleaning checklist and pulled out the Kitchen week. I decided that I would work all day to get the kitchen back in order. And I did. And I feel a little bit better. 

As I opened each cabinet I found tears welling up in my eyes. Years and years of broken promises and bad memories swelled up in my throat as I looked at the glass jar that once contained Popsicle sticks with "date night suggestions" written on them. A Mother's Day gift. We never went on a single one of those dates. 

And I have no one to blame for this sadness. No one but myself. I choose to live every minute of every day of my life up to this point. I had other choices to make. In the end I made a lot of poor choices. The choice to stay in a failing marriage every time my gut told me it was time to go. The choice to go back when my heart pleaded with me not to. 

Today I am faced with another choice to make. My heart says this season of my life is over. It is time for me to stand on my own two feet and take care of myself. It is time for me to stop looking to others for happiness. It is time for me to love myself.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I'm scared to death, and that is a wonderful feeling. Because I can actually feel. I'm not numb. 

I don't know how this will all play out. I'm sure that it will be a long journey finding myself and becoming whole. 

I just don't want to die when I feel so unfinished.