Last weekend was another busy and beautiful weekend. I was sure that I’d write about some of the things that happened at my church. My youngest child – my beautiful little girl – made her First Holy Communion. We spent the afternoon with family, and friends who are now family, and it was good. It was truly good.
The next morning, she wore her lovely dress again, and I served her her second Holy Communion. it was a privileged moment, and it was good. It was truly good.
Sunday afternoon was spent in our church – busy, but blessedly so. I love to spend my time serving my parish, serving my Church, serving my God. And it was good. It was truly good.
But at some point on Sunday, in the middle of a prayer, while sitting in a pew, amidst my parish family,, my soul sunk a little. The tickle was there in the morning, during Mass. I couldn’t sit still. I didn’t want to be there, just as much as I wanted to be there. I felt discontent…listless. Maybe it truly settled in later, during the Divine Mercy chaplet, when my mind began to wander to my own sense of worthlessness. At some point it snuck in, and took hold of me.
Depression.
Again.
Argh.
Depression is something I have dealt with for my whole life. In my teens, I had frequently entertained thoughts of suicide, but never truly had an interest in trying. At some point, still quite young, I remember realizing that I’d gotten through a particularly nasty bout. At that moment, I realized that my depression came in spells, and wasn’t a permanent state. That was when I recognized my enemy. That was when I knew that I could handle whatever it threw at me, as it would only be false and only be temporary. That was the day when I knew I would never kill myself.
No matter how bad I felt about myself – I would weather it until the storm broke.
I’ve always managed to get through it.
A few years ago, I returned to the Catholic Church. Thank God! And since I’ve come home, my renewed relationship with God has impacted my depression.
Knowing that God loves me unconditionally – as much on my best days as on my worst… walking into the confessional as much as walking out…on days I swear as much as days I pray… helped me feel truly loved and worthwhile.
I am truly loved and worthwhile.
I don’t always feel that when I’m battling a bout of depression.
But as a restored Catholic, having talked about the goodness of God to so many people, and knowing it in every fiber of my being to be true – I can’t deny that truth even when everything seems really dark.
And so God has become my light in that darkness.
But… In loving God so much, I desperately want to serve Him – to fulfill whatever plan He has for me. And so when depression sneaks in, this desire becomes a weakness.
During these times, I believe that I am failing God – that although He loves me, and there is nothing I ever could do to earn His freely given love – His pure and perfect love is wasted on a soul like me. That He made me for a purpose, and I am not failing.
This is not true, of course. But it is a terrible thing to feel like you’re failing God.
Even when you know He’d love you anyway.
And so this is where I am – wading through a bout of depression. I have felt uncomfortable in my home parish, fearing I’ll be seen as the fraud I feel that I am.
Feeling useless. Feeling incompetent. Feeling tired. And yet also feeling, as I sit in front of the altar in quite moments of prayer – that I AM LOVED!
The crucifix in our church is beautiful. It is a “Sorrowful Mother” crucifix, and it shows our Mother Mary, standing beside her crucified Son and gazing up at Him as she holds out to Him a chalice.
It is a moving image for me during these moments. Mary – who was just a girl – perfect, and yet otherwise insignificant – chosen by God before any other woman throughout time, to be the Mother of Jesus Christ. She was perfection in motherhood. She merely offered her son her best – her love and her knowledge and her faith and her sustenance. And it was enough to raise Jesus to be the supreme teacher and shepherd and healer and priest that He was. She raised a little boy to be the Human the world needed, and the God that His father needed.
And all she did was raise her son with love. What more do I have to do to feel a sense of purpose? Nothing. My family is my vocation . They are my purpose. They are enough.
And so am I!
Friends, I live with depression. I will feel better soon. I seek the help I need.
Please, if you are depressed, seek help! There is no shame in it.
You are enough! God loves you. I love you. Take care of yourself. You’re the only you that will ever be, and Jesus knew of you when He climbed the cross. He loved you that much! So take care of yourself. Give yourself a chance! You’re worth it!
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org
A look into my own crazy, caffeinated, Catholic world.