For those of us who struggle with depression, we know it is a constant battle with the beast. Some days, just getting out of bed is a monumental effort. Got dressed? Bonus! Went to work? Double-bonus! Did not put your head on your desk and weep? You win a trip to Aruba!! (If only...)
We have instituted a "family dinner" once a month, but it's never the whole family. Got too many wounds, too much turbulence, too much mental illness. I cherish these days, but they hurt too.
I'm worried about a medical procedure I'm supposed to have done. It's kinda radical, but also hopeful. But will it work? I dunno. But it will require some down time, and this year, I've missed so much work due to pain. My boss and my company have been supportive and gracious, but it still worries me.
I've got a kiddo who is bound and determined to be the Prodigal, even when we've begged and pleaded with him not to go. I just hope he will be able to return, and not wind up dead out there in the world.
We've had financial stresses for the past 15 years, but nothing like this. Will we be able to remain in our home? Can we get financing for a different house? Will we end up in an apartment (and have to get rid of beloved pets?)?
I am literally sick with worry. I know: trust in the Lord. But the Lord is not always so great on keeping me informed. And my depression and anxiety are not about a lack of faith; they are no more under my control than someone's appendicitis or another person's astigmatism. I know that God is with us, but I truly feel like my whole life is being juggled by a creepy clown.
President Trump? Ok. Not thrilled but we will deal with it. But if you see me smiling when you ask me how I am ... ask again, and say, "I really want to know how you're doing."