Cure Depression with A Box of Rocks

I’ll quote from my last post, “So as I drift off to sleep tonight aware that tomorrow may not be a ‘feel good’ day, I go to sleep knowing I will survive and I will be held by the hand of the God who made me.”

The past few days have been like mental torture.  Complete apathy and darkness.  Forced movement and forced attention to daily living.  It is like I live in a bubble cut off from any good feelings and I can’t burst the bubble to get back into the world of the living.  I know it is there, I know somewhere inside I still live, I function when I have to, but it is a grueling feat to perform even the littlest things.  I picked up a catalog that had laid on the floor for two days; I had seen it, it just simply didn’t dawn on me to pick it up.

I’m not a danger when I’m depressed. I always say someone would have to hit my bedroom with a bus, and I wouldn’t go look for the bus but I wouldn’t move if it was headed toward my bed.

But, oh, when the starbursts come, they are beautiful. 

I was feeling better after having prayed with a friend of mine.  I already had taken a shower and I was talking myself into going to get a few groceries.  I walked outside and there it was: a box.  It came from the post office; it was a box of rocks.  The rocks looked like they had been trying to get out of the box.  The post man laid it on our walkway.  I ordered them a week ago and it amused me that I was going to have to tell my husband, John, that I bought rocks, 20 pounds of them.  My friend said, “How do you tell a farmer you bought rocks?”  They were no ordinary rocks but 20 pounds of white Caribbean rocks for painting on with my new paint pens.  Somehow I didn’t think that was going to sell him on it, either.  I devised a plan; I would paint one up for him so he would see what a great buy they were.

I hid them half-heartedly, just in case he got home before I did.

It was my first venture out of the house in three days and I giggled about my box of rocks.  You know the expression “dumb as a box of rocks?” I bought 20 pounds of rocks and they got delivered right when I needed them.  I don’t think rocks in a box are so dumb anymore.  The rocks in a box were worth more than any drug I could have purchased.  And, yes, I was preparing to tell John how much I paid for them.  It came to about a dollar a pound.  I really did not shop around.

In my defense, it is winter in Wisconsin and rocks are usually hard to find.  However, this year I may have been able to find some with not much snowfall and warmer than average temperatures.  I didn’t find them though, I bought them. 

I chuckled all the way to the grocery store, unaccustomed to having heard my own laughter for the past few days.  I bought a few extra markers, plus everything on the grocery list, and then some.

As I drove home it came to mind to pray for one of our neighbors for no apparent reason.  And then it hit me, where have you been?  It is sure nice to have you back.  Welcome home!

That is what I mean by a starburst, a little pleasant thought out of nowhere, in a place that had been completely void for three days.  And I want to believe they will last, it’s like I pray, “Please don’t be a mirage.” That would be too cruel.  So I have really shaky legs today and I had a good day, despite having bronchitis, too. 

I believe anyone who has ever dealt with clinical depression will agree with this.  Dealing with a physical illness like bronchitis versus a mental condition like depression is so much easier.  I don’t mean to minimize it; it is just that you can look at it through a microscope or a blood test or x-rays, or the sound of the cough, etc. With depression I’ve heard things like, “Well, you look good” or “Yeah, I get like that too once in awhile” or, “Just think happy thoughts”, etc. 

Sometimes it is easier just not to talk to everyone right then. You teach your support group who will understand and who needs education.  During a depression is no time to be educating anyone.  Do that ahead of time with a clear mind. 

So, my darling husband has found the humor and value in my purchase of rocks.  I knew he would understand given a little time.  We have been married six years and between us we have learned the most effective ways to communicate about my mental illness.  He’s a good student and with him I have found a safe place to fall.

Thank you, God, for husbands, friends, starbursts and rocks.  I’m just not ready to say thank you for depression yet though, can I have grace on that one for awhile?  I just need to put a few good days behind me.