Depression is a funny thing.

Sometimes it can take the form of a sleepless woman, lying awake thinking about her failures or weaknesses. Sometimes it can take the shape of a new mom, drowning in despair or feelings of being lost. Sometimes it strikes teens who, thrown into a world quite too big for them, begin to feel as if nothing they do is right, the person that God made them to be isn't good enough. No matter what it looks like, there is a way out. Sometimes it's a long way off, other times it is just a few encouraging phone calls, a couple blog entries, or a couple prayer group meetings away. I am thanking God that I happen to be one for whom the latter seems to be working. 

A few beautiful blogging friends have shared about feelings of being in limbo, disorganized or like their lives are just feeling dim these days. They haven't wanted to share that. They have been biding their time until the cloud passes. I have been waiting, too. I've been waiting to feel 'like myself' again before I blog. Well, I can't wait any longer. It felt so good to have a prayer group meeting this morning, welcome a new mom who is pregnant with her fifth and have a mini baby shower for  another mommy (who happens also to be Paxton's Kindgarten teacher). It felt good to have people in my home, the work-in-progress that it is. To be okay with the fact that things are undone and I can give it up amongst these women who see me clearly. They see my faith. They see my feelings of being overwhelmed. They see my fear of not being good enough. They see me struggle with being open to life and at the same time worrying that the fact that, for right now, I am just tired of being pregnant or nursing, means that I am not open to life. Is that what it means? I hope not. I pray not. I pray.

We have been inundated with contractors coming and going , children (other peoples') coming and going, Catholic Schools Week and all the insanity that comes with celebrations and activities at the school every day, and sick children for what has been almost three weeks now. I am tired. My husband is tired. As my mom says, exhaustion colors the way you see everything. Yesterday was the first day in a week that I hadn't cried at some point in the day. Steve's mom came over and did our laundry. All day. She snuggled babies, folded clothes and sacrificed her day to help me. I didn't cry yesterday. I wanted to sing. I loved having the help and at the same felt guilty for taking it and shhhh....enjoying it. A lot.

How do we practice mortification and prioritize the 5 p's at the same time? 1)How do we glorify God, 2)offer up our sacrifices with a smile on our faces, 3) put others first, 4) do the work to obtain graces so that we can keep doing the work, and at the same time take care of ourselves and ask for what we need so that we can keep doing numbers 1 through 4?

Depression, for me, does not take on the form of lying in bed all day, not getting things done or sleeplessness (although that happens naturally when you have sick children, of course). For me, it looks like feeling overwhelmed, feelings of self-loathe or not being good enough, begging God to just disclose to me what he wants from me. In the silence of my own mind, of course. Because to share it? That's weakness, that's whining. Nobody wants to hear me whine.

That's junk. 

I am sharing, dang it. I am sharing it because I know that every single person who reads this blog knows me--be it virtually relating or physically seeing one another regularly. You know me. You know I am happy. I strive to follow commandments. I share what I have with others. I try to put others first. I give. I am grateful for my many, many blessings. I have a deep, abiding faith that God will always take care of me, never abandon me, and that He offered Himself fully so that I might have life. A dang good one at that. 

I also happen to be a little down. Depressed. There. I said it. Relatively, it's a tiny cloud. Nonetheless, it's a cloud.  A cloud I am not used to or comfortable with. A cloud that will go away, little by little, if I ask God to help me see through it. If I share with those of you who know and love me. It makes no sense. It rarely does, I know. So...this too shall pass. Until it does? I'll just be here, praying and keeping my side of the street clean.

Pray for me. Love me. Advise me. 

And know that I am grateful. Eternally grateful that I have this safe place to ask for some prayers from women who trust God like I do and who know what it is to feel like there aren't enough hours in the day. Or like there are too many.