When I give a talk, sometimes I kind of feel like an observer and when I sit back down, I come back to myself. Its a strange feeling and difficult to explain. Most likely I'm trying to transport myself to my happy place to mentally escape being in front of a chapel full of people. Which is funny, because in reality, although the chapel is full, most of the youth are probably sleeping or texting and most of the adults are focused on trying to keep their children quiet-ish. So what am I worried about.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that my only focus is getting the correct words out of my mouth in a logical way. I'm so focused on that, that I'm not very aware of anything else. And this is my point, I DO remember the feeling in the room when I started talking about being depressed. This is what I said:
"I have suffered with depression occasionally. There have been times when I have looked out the window and its beautiful out there. But I just knew that the moment I walked outside, it would all fade to gray. I didn’t know how that could happen but I knew that it would. I’ve been afraid to go to sleep, I’ve been afraid to wake up. I have felt hopeless with no reprieve. I have had loving people all around me and still felt lonely and hopeless, despite their love and encouragement."
I didn't delve into any specific experiences. I simply shared that I struggle. And the energy in the room changed. Sterling mentioned it after the meeting. He felt it too. And then sisters began to approach me and thank me for saying what I did. Some knew others who struggle, others struggle themselves. I was surprised by how many women talked to me throughout the rest of the week.
Why was it such a big deal for me to talk about depression in sacrament meeting? Why do we, as women, feel like we need to hide it? Because we shouldn't hide it, most of all from each other. The support of other women is where we can find strength. But who am I to talk? I most often try to hide my sliding into depression with a fake smile as I run through the mundane motions of motherhood. I can put on a good show for 3 hours at church or carpool or playgroup. The show holds up ok until I find myself crying in the shower or yelling at my children, or asking them to fix their own meals while I crawl back into bed. Then it becomes pretty evident that I need some help. The very help I should have openly asked for from the beginning, from my husband, my neighbors, my extended family.
The fact of the matter is, I trick myself into thinking I’m good at hiding it, but most of the time I’m not. For example:
After child #3 was born (going from 2 to3 was particularly difficult), I struggled quite a bit. It was summertime and I had already reached my breaking point early in the afternoon. I sent the older two children outside to play and resumed my crying in private. Soon enough, I heard a knock at the door. I quickly dried my eyes and put a smile on my face as I opened the door. It was my neighbor, returning something she had borrowed. Before she left, she asked how I was doing. I told her I was fine. She asked again. I assured her I was doing just fine, couldn’t be better. As I closed the door I caught a reflection of myself in a mirror. In drying my eyes, I had forgotten to wipe my face and mascara was still streaked down my cheeks. Despite my smile and assurances that I was just fine, I had been caught.
Again I struggled when child #5 was one day away from being one month old (are you sensing a pattern here?.) One day before his month mark, I was notified that he was not covered on our insurance plan. It seemed like everything that could go wrong,, did go wrong. After missing emails, broken faxes, long distance phone call chaos, I completely lost it. I ordered the children outside and told them not to let anyone in the house. “Just tell people I’m not even home,” I told them. I then collapsed on my bed in body-racking sobs. They were loud and physical, the kind that no one should ever see or hear. What I didn’t know was that my neighbor (a different one) was in the hallway. She quietly took my children to her house and gave me the privacy I needed. But again, I had been caught while I had been trying to hide.
Of course, there are many other experiences. Sometimes I was caught and sometimes I wasn’t. Sometimes it was after a baby was born and sometimes it wasn’t. But why try to hide? I know I’m not the only one. And if one of my neighbors needed help, I would be there in a minute. The more we help and support each other, the stronger we are. But sometimes we need to reach out and ask for the help.
