As Real as It Gets
Thursday, May 27, 2010 at 10:00PM I'm pretty transparent. Most people around me know how I'm doing, and this year most people have known that I've not been well. Like many others, I struggle with depression; add OCD to that, as well as little kids (who just so happen to enjoy things like getting dirty and making messes), and crazy life circumstances, and what you get is one whacked out 2010.
I'll be honest, there have been some very low moments. They have been followed by some revolutionary ones, some all right ones, and some very joyful and peaceful moments, too. Then the low ones return. I'm sure there are as many facets of depression as there are people who live with it, but mine seems to be cyclical. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out the cycle! Obviously, there are factors in life that exacerbate something like depression, and then there are details that become manifestations of it. At times these things weave an intricate and complicated fiber, and it becomes harder to tell if particular elements are the causes or the effects anymore.
One such example is our house. For years I have had a terrible time managing our household. Things like keeping up with the laundry (washing, drying, folding, and putting it away), staying on top of the dishes, basic cleaning (sweeping regularly, upkeep of bathrooms), getting toys put away - all of it eludes me. I will readily admit that some of the problem comes from poor decision making on my part, as well as laziness in just being a grown-up and doing the things that need to get done, and being a parent and teaching our kids to pick up after themselves. I would also like to submit that part of the problem is that we have moved three times in the last five years, and not once did we do it well. It feels like a moving van showed up at our house this last time and threw up inside, without so much as a how-do-you-do or a can-I-help-clean-that-up.
I would like to interject here and say that my parents were, in fact, very helpful during the last move and offered up a great deal of time, encouragement, and sweat in order to help us accomplish a move around the corner (literally, around the corner...much harder than across the country). We were just disorderly to begin with, and so the material they were working with was unruly, and required a lot more time than they had. Virginia called them home too soon.
At any rate, over the last year the condition of our house has certainly had its ups and downs; we've had whirlwind clean-ups for company a couple of times. Mike is much better than I am these days at charging straight ahead to face the task at hand, and wrangling the delinquent piles and messes into some semblance of order quickly. But for the most part, I have been unmotivated and complacent about the chaos all around me. Even though I know that chaos breeds chaos, and I know that just putting one thing away at a time would, over time, get many things put away, I could never take the first step. And most of the time I just didn't want to.
I say I was complacent, but that might not be the most accurate word. The truth is, I cared. I would walk through the house and see the piles of random stuff, the papers that were balancing precariously on the edge of any given table, the toys everywhere, the mountains of laundry, the dishes on the counter, and I would think,"Is this really my house?" It felt surreal. I would cry and then sit down at the computer and make my escape. I hated it and yet I made no changes.
Change is hard.
As I said before, I am an open book. I shared with people when things were rough, when I felt overwhelmed. I got a lot of encouragement. More often than not someone shared a story with me about a time when they felt the same way, or went through a difficult period; people were kind, positive, supportive. Then a couple of weeks ago I received an email; it was from a mom of one of the girls on Michaela's old soccer team, her first soccer team here. She said my email address had randomly appeared in her phone, and she thought it would be fun to get together with me and one of the other moms at a bakery for a visit. And most likely a muffin. I thought that sounded fun, too, and told her to let me know the details.
A Thursday morning get-together was settled upon. We met up at a local bakery, and when I arrived they were seated outside, with food as well as a spread of playthings for the other two little girls who were there. As I went to sit down, two birds swooped down just beside our table and set about frolicking in the bushes to my right. One of the women raised her eyebrows as she saw me wince and said,"Oh! Do you want to go inside? Will you be much more comfortable in there?"
You do know how I feel about birds (and animals in general), right? Everything in me wanted to yell,"YES!" and run into the building as quickly as possible. But, they were all set up, there were plates and glasses on the table, and the kids were busy at the table beside us. I smiled and said,"Let's just call it therapy!" I tried to put the humor spin on it.
My other friend looked curious at this exchange, and the woman who had asked about going inside, let's call her D., explained a bit about some of my issues (for example, I don't like to sit on outside furniture.); my OCD was now front-and-center. My second friend, let's call her J., pursued the topic with gusto. She was curious about the different ways it affected me, and as we talked I shared more about some of my other struggles. The house came up.
And then our trips this summer came up, and the fact that I was looking forward to them.
After quite a while of me talking and them listening I jokingly said,"Is this an intervention?!" I felt like the conversation had been focused on me the entire time. It had been a good conversation, full of laughing and just honest and meaningful dialogue, but I still felt as though I had hogged all the attention. My friend brought out her phone and told us about the weird surge of information that had occurred recently, which filled her phone with all the email contacts she had ever had, which led to her getting in touch with the other two of us. Apparently this get-together was a coincidence. Providential may be a better word.
J. went back to my summer visits, and came to the conclusion that I could not go away and have a fun and refreshing summer vacation, only to return to a disaster of a house that would immediately drain the joy and goodness of great family visits. The two of them determined that it was imperative to come to my house and help me tackle the job head on, including cleaning up, ordering, hanging things on walls, and rearranging furniture. Monday was deemed The Day. Tuesday was deemed The Second Day.
It was clear that it would be a two day job.
This was a scary thing that I was facing.
And then. Then I had lunch with another friend the following afternoon, a woman who is a little older than I am, and who loves on our family more like an aunt than just a peer. I am a blabbermouth, and I shared with her about my friends and what they were planning. She was excited about this prospect, and proceeded to offer her own help in organizing and decluttering. She actually does that kind of thing professionally.
While all of these women were offering to help, the truth is that I didn't have a choice in the matter. They were coming whether I wanted them to or not. And by Sunday, I was in the "not" category. I felt sick to my stomach, Mike went into high-powered cleaning mode (the cleaning before the clean-up crew arrived), and I begged them in an email not to come.
Not only did they come, they even managed to convince one more friend to join them.
(To be continued...)
Reader Comments (12)
I appreciate your honesty for sure and openness in your entry. I, too, have struggled with depression, so I do understand the constant battle. You must have some amazing friends looking out for you, and someone else who is looking out for you upstairs to have your email address pop up in her phone like that. That's so great, though, that they're helping. Hang in there, and I can't wait to see pictures of the finished results!
This is AWESOME!!!! Can't wait to see the follow-up!! This was a GOD intervention...woohoo! Go God! Love that guy! LOL Those are some selfless, caring woman playing the roles of His Hands and His feet...(and I haven't even seen what was done yet....but I can tell from your lead into it... hee hee). I hope that you are RECEIVING this blessing...not just some cleaning/organizing in your home (as I'm sure that was a feat in itself, hah! Or at least you always make it out to be!)...but receiving what He is trying to tell you through all of this. ((hugs))
Wow! I can't wait to hear the rest. I am screaming inside for you!!!
You are so honest and such a sweet person, Christina! Don't underestimate yourself. :)
Anxious to read/see more!!
As a near-retiree and your own diddy, I also am a semi-pro editor. You spelled exacerbate correctly, but you missed on "wacked" out. I'm sure you were thinking appropriately of "wacko." Yet, what you were looking for was "whacked out," as in extremely tired (British) or on drugs (American). Love you anyway. I also understand you more than you know. After all, you are my favorite daughter!
It sounds like you have amazing friends. I'm sorry this year has been difficult - and I'm so glad things might be on an upswing.
I'm already tearing up. I have a feeling Part II is going to do me in.
Isn't God good? When people follow His leading and act according to His will amazing things happen.
I've been so hoping for something like this for you Christina!
Thank you, everyone! I can't wait to finish the story.
And Dad, I fixed it-thank you. I almost looked it up myself. :) I mean, I know a lot, but sometimes even I have to go to Google. haha
I love you roomie! I am so excited for you (although I know this was/is hard for you).
We had our yard sale last weekend and did well, but only sold about half the stuff, so the other half is back in the kids' playroom waiting till either June 12 (WAY TOO FAR AWAY) for MIL's yard sale or a day when Michael can take it to the local outdoor flea market and get rid of it. It is starting to really stress me out. The girls have already been without a playroom for a couple weeks because of it becoming the staging room for the yard sale and the rest of the house is a wreck since we pulled a bunch of stuff out for them to play with while their playroom is off limits. UGH! The stuff has to go. I am so close to making a dump run with it and getting it the heck out of here. I can feel my anxiety increase even as I type this. Sorry for the ramble.
Amy, don't apologize! I know what you mean! I hope it can get out of there, sooner or later, and that you can breathe easier because of it. I really think that stuff causes so much stress and anxiety, and yet, we keep acquiring!! (Shaking my finger at myself) Just think of the patience you are teaching your girls! :)
praise God for the fellowship of others and the ability to see outside of ourselves! let this be a wake-up call to the rest of us (and me!)!!
oooh, can't wait to read more! I've got so much catching up to do on your blog. Totally have jet-lag but wanted to read a bit before going to bed...your honesty, your friends' love, and this journey you've been on make for great reading! ps love your diddy's comments :) You got his humor gene! :)
love you and proud of you! JJ