Mist of Darkness

So now that I have finally caught up with my blogging, I feel that I need to explain where I've been. This blog is mainly for journal purposes, so just ignore this post if it makes you uncomfortable.

I've known that I've struggled with depression for five years now. I've been in some dark places in my life with horrible thoughts and temptations, but it's been under control for the most part. I've been "missing" for the past 2 months because I was slowly spiraling downwards without realizing it. True, I never had any suicidal thoughts this last time (maxing out your Zoloft should have SOME kind of effect) but I started losing interest in the things that usually make me happy. Blogging. Creativity. Photography. My family. Sunshine. With the winter, it seemed that everything had turned gray and dead, and not just the plants.

My husband kept urging me to do something just for me, but I always felt that I didn't have time, and if I did, that it would only lead to disappointment. I had started a business plan in August or so to get a patent for a new kind of cookie cutter rolling pin that had tessellated shapes so you wouldn't waste dough and time making cookies. However, after one rejection from a plastic company here in Denver, I stopped trying because I didn't want to have yet another disappointment. I stopped caring about taking pictures because taking the time to get the kids to cooperate and then figure out the camera settings was too much work. Then everything became too much work. I started taking naps in the afternoon, not just because I was tired, but because I didn't want to deal with the burden of finding something to do for a couple hours while the kids slept. If I cleaned the house, it would only get messy again. If I cooked dinner, it would just get thrown on the floor because my boys didn't like it. If I watched TV, I would become a couch potato - not that anything on TV was interesting anyways.

Everything started small, but then it started leading to bigger things. I started having thoughts to leave my family. I started questioning my faith. I started questioning if there was even a God. I was mad at myself for being so trusting my entire life of things that I didn't think were true anymore. How much time and fun had I wasted being the "good girl" my entire life if none of it even mattered. There was still part of me that remembered that in times like this is when I should be praying the most. So I did, but quite angrily. I remember praying one night out loud to Heavenly Father and forcefully asking, "Where are you?! Why aren't you helping me? Why do I feel so alone? If you're there then where's the proof?" My husband was gone traveling. My children were no support to me. I had no good friends to talk to - I'd feel bad voicing these things and wouldn't want to burden them anyways. Not even the last bit of comfort of faith was there for me. I was in a terrible, dark place and there was no where to go.

"And it came to pass that there arose a mist of darkness; yea, even an exceedingly great mist of darkness, insomuch that they who had commenced in the path did lose their way, that they wandered off and were lost.

"And it came to pass that I beheld others pressing forward, and they came forth and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press forward through the mist of darkness, clinging to the rod of iron, even until they did come forth and partake of the fruit of the tree."

~The Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 8:23-24

This was my "mist of darkness." It was so thick that my outstretched hand went unnoticed. So thick that I couldn't hear my Heavenly Father on the other side begging me to ask for help - not demand answers. So thick that any bit of help that did come my way went unnoticed because I was so caught up in my feelings of anger and regret.

Then my mom called one day at just the right time when I was about to boil over. I vented to her and couldn't stop all the horrible emotional vomit coming out of my mouth. It was not pretty. But it's what tipped the scale. She and my dad came and visited for a week. Rex asked to travel every other week instead of only being home 2 days each week. Rex gave me a priesthood blessing of comfort. I went to the doctor and changed medications. I forced myself to recognize the good things that were happening - the silly things my boys did, the small miracle of being able to chip away cemented oatmeal on the floor in less than 10 minutes, good books I ordered online to help with my photography, the realization that other young moms around me wanted a good friend, too - and I recognized Heavenly Father's hand in all of it. True, He's probably more occupied with more important things than dried-up oatmeal, but he gave me LIFE. And crusty food is life sometimes. I'm not 100% better yet - I'm "clinging to the rod of iron" through the mists still - but I'm grounded again in the good things.