O Christ Jesus,
when all is darkness
and we feel our weakness and helplessness,
give us the sense of Your presence,
Your love, and Your strength.
Help us to have perfect trust
in Your protecting love
and strengthening power,
so that nothing may frighten or worry us,
for, living close to You,
we shall see Your hand,
Your purpose, Your will through all things.
By Saint Ignatius of Loyola
Mother's Day has now seemed to have morphed into Mother's Day "Weekend." I guess it's mostly the retail industry trying to drag holidays out as long as possible toward the bottom line. I've taken to drag it out prior to the actual day it seems but for my own selfish reasons. Last year I did the same so I guess I can categorize Mother's Day as an absolute trigger for me.
As I visit the two posts, here & here, that I had written last Mother's Day - not much has changed. I'm still feeling stuck and without direction. I'm fighting the urge to create a graph on which I can plot out certain keywords and themes and blabber. It's a good thing I don't have too much free time with which to prove my failures.
A big difference between last year and this year's Mother's Day - pharmaceuticals. In fact, it was shortly after Mother's Day last year that I had increased my antidepressant to a higher dose. This year, it's all me. I don't even have any wine in the house. Last Mother's Day was a good day, I seemed to be okay for the most part without a backslide into despair. This Mother's Day, or at least this weekend, at its beginning, is not looking as okay.
I'm tired physically and emotionally. I physically ache with headaches and a backache that recently started out of nowhere. All of this could be chalked up to the yet more weight that I've put on. I'm heavier now than I have ever, ever been in my entire life, and that includes two pregnancies. I'm a petite person so all of this weight is taking its toll. Without any antidepressants or antianxiety drugs, the only pill I do have to take is a cholesterol lowering medication and I haven't been taking it. I'm afraid of what I'm waiting for to happen if that makes sense. Slowly committing suicide with elevated cholesterol and sweets? I think it's more a case of just not caring at all. It's also a way to isolate myself even further if that's possible. More weight means less activity, less wanting to do anything at all, less sex as I try to convince my husband that there is no way he's remotely attracted to me in this state, less engaging in anything at home for lack of energy. I'm wondering if this is rock bottom with no further down to go?
Which brings me to my little graphic at the top of this post - a tiny flicker of faith. There's got to be one inside of me somewhere because I'm still here and it's not just about being too much of a coward to slit my wrists, it's something more. As the tears roll down my cheeks as I type, with the pain now physical, I'm still here. I'm still blogging for Christ's sake. With the little pixie in the other room, happy and content with her crayons and a juice box and with 80 pounds of fur at my feet, is this all there is? If I was suddenly not here - how would this picture change?
Please Lord, give me something. Show me something. Please let me feel something good. Send me a list of what you think I'm doing right. Please show me in some way that my pathetic little life is important and significant in some ridiculous way. Please Lord, let me feel you near me. Allow me to see that something I do is worthwhile. Please show me that taking all of this on has a purpose or meaning. Please let the darkness lift or give me the strength to leave it so I can see what's smack in front of my face. Please take away my stubborn pride and self absorption and give me something else instead. Please, I beg you, help me keep getting out of bed to do something.
And Grace, if you're listening, help me figure this out and if I can't figure it out, help me to find some peace in the mess.