My Depression is a Pancake

I feel depressed right now. It’s almost been a full week now. What does it feel like? Right now it’s like a giant 300-pound pancake has been gently laid on top of me. It wasn’t violently thrown to crush me. Gently laid. The pressure is both soft and heavy, and it feels like I’d better just lay on the floor and let the pancake win.

I’m not 100% sure what triggered this or how to get out from under it.

Here’s my plan:

Go for a walk. I haven’t felt like being physically active or going outside lately. That’s probably just my depression trying to trick me into staying away from activities that will lessen its power.

Clean my apartment. It’s a mess. If I make it look like things are back to normal maybe they’ll start to feel that way too.

Make a to-do list. I need purpose right now. I need a reason to move.

Hold on. This will not last forever. There’s life on the other side that I’ll get to eventually. This too shall pass. Something good is coming.

Don’t worry, throughout the last week I mentioned how I was feeling to two friends. I’m not doing this alone. You don’t all need to suddenly start e-mail or texting me to see if I’m ok. I’m ok.  And if everyone contacted me at the same time to get me to talk about the giant pancake, it would be a miserable and exhausting day.

I just wanted to be honest with you. I’m all about honesty, right? And I want to make it clear that my testimony doesn’t just skip from “Taylor prayed a little prayer to Jesus” to “and he lived happily ever after.” No. I still live in a fallen world with a fallen body and a fallen mind and I’m eagerly awaiting the return of the Lord because of the Great Newness he’s got in store for all creation. Until then, I lean ALL MY WEIGHT on Him and not my own understanding.

Jesus, eat this pancake.

And if you’ve got a pancake (or waffle or donut or French toast sticks) know that you’re not alone, you can take little steps right now that will lead to bigger steps down the road, and there is a Champion of Breakfasts who died to save you. You are not forgotten. You are not forgotten. You are not forgotten.

A Thrill of Hope

I love this phrase in O Holy Night.

Hope is the belief that something good is coming. The only thing more exciting than that anticipation is when it finally arrives. And that's what Christmas is celebrating. He's here. The one you've been waiting for, who will change everything, has arrived.

The Blessing of Uncertainty

I’m almost finished reading The Fellowship of the Ring so I decided to take a small break tonight to watch one of the behind the scenes documentaries on the Lord of the Rings extended edition DVDs.  I’m glad I did because I got to hear Dr. Patrick Curry give this definition of despair:

Despair is for people who know beyond any doubt what the future is going to be. Nobody’s in that position. So despair is not only a kind of sin theologically; it’s also a simple mistake because nobody actually knows. In that sense there always is hope.

A while ago I shared Andrew Peterson’s definition of hope as the belief that “something good is coming.”  It makes sense that Dr. Curry’s description of despair is the exact opposite: the belief that you are 100% that nothing good is coming ever again.

But NO ONE can be sure with absolute certainty what the future holds. When things are at their darkest and it looks like all is lost, you can find hope in the uncertainty.

It may feel like you’ll never love again, but how can you be sure?

It looks like the weight of your depression will go away, but is there even a small chance that it does?

If you’re not ready to believe that something good is coming, then maybe, for the moment, all you need is uncertainty to poke holes in your despair. And maybe the holes will be just big enough to let some hope shine in.

Something Good is Coming

I love how Andrew Peterson describes hope as the belief that something good is coming.

When he was experiencing this season of depression he describes in the video his wife would often repeat that phrase. He needed that reminder because when you’re in that darkness it can feel like it’s going to last forever. It’s the new normal. You lose all hope because you believe you’ll never feel sunshine again.

But something good is coming.

It reminded me of an Ask Andrew W.K. article where someone asked “How Do I Get Through Dark Times?”

Andrew’s response focused on the cycle of light and darkness that all of us experience. Nothing lasts forever. Life is constantly changing and transitioning just like the night always changes into day.

“We must not mistake the experience of darkness as a sign of torturous death or the end of all good things. It is just a turning point, a part of a cycle. And once the darkness has completed its part of the pattern, the shadows will retreat, the sun will rise, and the light will return once more.”

And he ends the piece with this:

The shadows aren’t always bad. Sometimes they’re just the result of so much light around the corner.

Some times we can remind the people we love that something good is coming. But some times all we can do is be their anchor and believe it for them.

We want them to have hope so it changes their outlook but we also need to let the hope we believe in change our outlook on them. We can sit and listen to their heartache and pain without worrying or nervously trying to offer any advice that comes to mind because we KNOW that something good is coming for them.

We can be patient.

We can wait.

We can love.

In Lord of the Rings Sam knows he’s not allowed to carry the Ring for Frodo. It’s Frodo’s burden to bear. But when Frodo is at his weakest Sam proclaims “I can’t carry it for you but I can carry you.”

Something good is coming.