Little Attacks

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I deal with depression. It is not a one and done thing. It cannot be cured.

For almost a whole year it was really bad. A few weeks I would cry myself to sleep every night and then there were a few weeks that would be [almost] good where I would smile or give a laugh. I went to counseling for two months, but didn’t feel that changed much. There were a few times I thought it had reached its peak only to figure out another bad day was just around the corner. During those really bad weeks, I spent a lot of time in my closet. I found comfort there. But it was false comfort; it only lasted for a moment and then it was gone.

Through lots of looking inward, I realized that my depression stemmed from fear of not being good enough and not being accepted. During this time, I developed anxiety and so many new insecurities. There were days I didn’t even want to leave my room from fear of failure and the anxiety of people watching and judging me.

I knew I came off as weird, a little stand-offish, judgmental, and smart, but I just wished that someone could see me as I was: struggling, hurting, spiraling. Not many people wanted to be around me once I started taking a turn for the worst. It was understandable, but it didn’t hurt any less. I felt so alone. I had shoved my religion to the wind and literally felt I had nowhere to turn.

October was when things started to look up. Someone reached out. I found a Bible study, a church, friends, a support system. It was exactly what I needed. Eventually, I stopped having such depressing thoughts. November and December were some of the best months I can remember. I was genuinely happy and excited. I hadn’t felt that in so long and it was long awaited! It wasn’t perfect, but the good days were really good!

The truth, though, is that it doesn’t take much to crack the shell you have been so delicately gluing back together. I thought the next year was going to be the best, but then came my first breakup which rocked me to the core and brought back so much of the insecurities that I thought I had shaken. But this time when I had my meltdowns, I had people there for me. People wanting to build me up and keep me company. This time I didn’t feel so alone.

Well now I am dating one of those people and he makes me so incredibly happy (most of the time). I am so grateful for his patience and silliness, but sometimes those little unwanted thoughts seep back into my ears and I freak out over little things. It happened last night. We had spent basically the better half of the day together: napping, lunch, errands, The Secret Life of Pets; but after the movie he wanted to go home. This was totally normal, of course he is going to go home, but after I dropped him off and got back on the road, I started tearing up and by the time I got to my room, I was sobbing. I had these thoughts that he was getting tired of me and that I exhausted him and that he wanted a break. I told myself that everyone feels this way eventually and it was a miracle he had lasted five months. I sat in my closet and cried. I ignored the text from him and later sent him this overly melodramatic text expressing how much I got it and he responded informing me about how much I didn’t get it.

For some amazing reason, he never gives up on me and I never scare him off. It is incredible how much he understands my insecurities and accepts me for them. Needless to say, the rest of the night went fine and all those thoughts have gone away. But those little attacks can be so scary and so frightening for a person “recovering”, more like fending off, depression.

And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.
-Ephesians 2:22

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