This past week was the church youth group’s invite night, something they do every other month or so to encourage the teens to bring their friends and just have fun. In short, it’s a bit like a youth rally, but it’s actually a lot of fun. The last theme was American Idol, this week’s theme was Survivor.
Before I go on, I must say that I had SO much fun volunteering and helping with the event. I arrived, and the excitement in the sanctuary and narthex was so strong you couldn’t help but get swept up in it. The night had music, dinner, a short message and, of course, the Survivor challenges: physical, trivia, puzzle and eating. Yes, they ate worms. And crickets. It was…interesting. And a lot of fun.
But I digress.
The message was about surviving, to go along with the theme, of course. Robert, our youth leader, gave a wonderful message that included his own story of surviving, barely, and finding his faith in God. Though it did not make everything perfect, it turned his life around and gave him a different view, a view on life where he was bent to survive.
While he was speaking, I was thinking about my own survival. Though my life of depression is neither as intense as Robert’s, nor did it start as early as his, it is still a life of depression, a life of needing to work towards surviving.
This week has been hard for me. It’s frustrating, because I felt like I was just getting my head above water, finding my ground, finding my niche in this time of my life. I can’t tell you what exactly pulled my feet back out from under me, what wave flowed over me this week, but something did, and I ended up having a meltdown today, something that hasn’t happened in a few weeks.
I started census training this week, and will be going out next week to be enumerating. It could have been the combination of being in “class” most of the week (listening to the same things again and again, for the record), and having something to do Wednesday and Thursday night, which took me away from time on the couch with Geoff, my favorite way to unwind.
Whatever caused it, whatever caused me to sob like a baby about things that I can neither control nor are an issue right now, my path is clear. I can either allow myself to stay underwater, or I can survive. I don’t know about you, but I want to survive.
They say you never recover from alcoholism, that you are always an alcoholic. I think, in some ways, that the same is true with depression. There’s no recovery from it, it’s always there. Sometimes I’m lying on the beach, sunning myself happily, sometimes I’m standing in the water, under control, but with cold feet. Sometimes, like this week, I venture out too far, and the waves sweep me under. I’ll find my feet again, things will get better and I’ll be on the beach again. I’ll survive.