No twenty-nine-year-old woman is supposed to have a baby and then five months later a hysterectomy and bladder repair. Right? Those two surgeries only happen to women in their fifties, sixties, and seventies, don't they? Or at least that's what I thought.
Within nine months our family had changed from having one child and two incomes to having two children and one income. Health and homeowners insurance which my job had provided, now had to come from a private source.
My husband left an existing law firm to start a private practice. He had to have a double hernia repair and I a hysterectomy and bladder repair.
I, the strong-willed child was now the helpless adult. I, the fixer, had more problems than I could repair and I was angry.
I was angry at my mother-in-law for running my household so smoothly. I was angry at myself for being so weak. I was angry at my children for being children.
I was angry at my surgeon for having to perform the second surgery. I was angry about my inability to work. I was angry at Phil for asking me not to work.
I was angry at God for allowing something so terrible to happen to me at such an early age. I was angry at God for changing my plans.
When I learned that the definition of depression is "frozen rage" I could understand why I was so depressed. Just knowing those two little words made all the difference in the world.
Looking back from the age of fifty-eight to when I was twenty-nine, exactly half my age right now, I understand why I was so overwhelmed and thoughts of suicide surfaced.
If you can find the source of your anger, more than likely, you'll understand why you're depressed and/or falling apart. I've seen people who knew but wondered why, and then I've seen the light bulb come on when they've identified the source of their anger.
If depression is anger turned inward then rage is what happens when depression thaws. Depression and anger are different sides to the same coin -- what some people can't understand.
I not only had one source of depression, but I also had three.
I was predisposed to depression as a child. Mental illness runs on both sides of my family. "My first recollection of showing signs of depression was before the age of ten," if you remember, was the first sentence of my first entry entitled "The Journey Begins."
I suffered from post-partum depression after both David and Laura were born. Not until years later, when it was publicized by the media, did I know what to call it. The picture I posted was taken the day David was born. The glass was half empty for months after delivering both children.
And then I had a situation caused by having major surgery, with complications, beyond my control.
Put the three sources of depression together and you get a recipe for disaster -- the path to the perfect storm. I say "perfect" because what I am sure of today is that God was in control. Today, I have no doubt. But twenty-nine years ago I wouldn't have believed it.
The deeper the pit, the more time God has to teach you about Himself and you.
Within nine months our family had changed from having one child and two incomes to having two children and one income. Health and homeowners insurance which my job had provided, now had to come from a private source.
My husband left an existing law firm to start a private practice. He had to have a double hernia repair and I a hysterectomy and bladder repair.
I, the strong-willed child was now the helpless adult. I, the fixer, had more problems than I could repair and I was angry.
I was angry at my mother-in-law for running my household so smoothly. I was angry at myself for being so weak. I was angry at my children for being children.
I was angry at my surgeon for having to perform the second surgery. I was angry about my inability to work. I was angry at Phil for asking me not to work.
I was angry at God for allowing something so terrible to happen to me at such an early age. I was angry at God for changing my plans.
When I learned that the definition of depression is "frozen rage" I could understand why I was so depressed. Just knowing those two little words made all the difference in the world.
Looking back from the age of fifty-eight to when I was twenty-nine, exactly half my age right now, I understand why I was so overwhelmed and thoughts of suicide surfaced.
If you can find the source of your anger, more than likely, you'll understand why you're depressed and/or falling apart. I've seen people who knew but wondered why, and then I've seen the light bulb come on when they've identified the source of their anger.
If depression is anger turned inward then rage is what happens when depression thaws. Depression and anger are different sides to the same coin -- what some people can't understand.
I not only had one source of depression, but I also had three.
I was predisposed to depression as a child. Mental illness runs on both sides of my family. "My first recollection of showing signs of depression was before the age of ten," if you remember, was the first sentence of my first entry entitled "The Journey Begins."
I suffered from post-partum depression after both David and Laura were born. Not until years later, when it was publicized by the media, did I know what to call it. The picture I posted was taken the day David was born. The glass was half empty for months after delivering both children.
Put the three sources of depression together and you get a recipe for disaster -- the path to the perfect storm. I say "perfect" because what I am sure of today is that God was in control. Today, I have no doubt. But twenty-nine years ago I wouldn't have believed it.
The deeper the pit, the more time God has to teach you about Himself and you.
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