SILENT SHAME - DEPRESSION

I thought I was the only one.  And then I learned that friends, relatives, maybe even you had been touched by the black monster of depression.  A beast that has too long lived within the shadows of silent shame, depress-sion can carry the stigma of abnormality.  I share my struggle in the hope of exposing the lies it feeds the hearts and minds of those it consumes, and
leave a footprint of my journey out.  (If you feel suicidal, call 911 immedi-ately) - lesli

Where am I to begin?  Life had pressed me beyond the weight I was constructed to bear.  I buckled like a coffee table on which an elephant 
had been placed.  I wasn't weak; just not designed to carry this load.  I collapsed; buried beneath the rubble of what once had been my life.  All felt lost to hopelessness and helplessness.  My cries evaporated like vapors on the night air.  I couldn't speak; no one heard my silent pleas.  I lay suspend-ed between life and death, a never ending phonograph playing in my mind; go, rest in peace.

Would I? Would I have peace, now or ever? As if lying at the pool when the waters were stirred, the question whispered within me, was I in earnest to be made whole? We must all ask the question and accept ourselves where we are.  There is no victory in deceit. 

Like a paralytic able to move nothing but my eyes, I looked up.  I saw only
the bottomless pit of despondency.  I looked up anyway.  My eyes searching through the debris of depression for some vision of a better day.  In the far distance, I saw what appeared to be a glimmer of light; I fixed my gaze upon it.  It was harder than I anticipated.  It required the determination of wanting to believe there could be something better, even though I couldn't see it now.  

I tried not to berate myself for faithlessness; others would do that for me.  But loathsome thoughts beat upon my mind like waves upon the rocks. 
In my heart I believed there could be more but, before the leap from the bowels of hell to heights of an abundant life, hope and courage would have to find me and I was so very lost.  

Physically weakened by despair and despondency, I could scarcely move.  Daily activities were a distant memory for me.  My only hope of regaining control was by accomplishing one small task each day; it took all my strength and determination.  At the appointed time, like an actor in a scripted roll, I would perform regardless of the emotional pressure to ignore the curtain call. 

As the weight of rocks continued their pressing, a song began wafting up from beneath the devastation.  It filled the air with comfort and courage; soothing the savage beast that had consumed me. Music was a welcomed friend.  She'd been distant far too long.  I had abandoned her, but she flew to my rescue on the wings of angels; hope was at her side.  As I listened to her melody, my heart was gladdened; joy was reborn within my withered soul.  A ray of sunlight glistened through the darkness.  A fresh breeze brushed over my soot covered face; perhaps dawn breaks even after the blackest of nights.

I've heard it said, the height of a building correlates to how deeply the foundation is dug. That, how far an arrow is intended to fly the farther back it must be pulled in the bow (Bishop TD Jakes, paraphrased).  I don't yet know if that is true.  Perhaps the height and distance are meant to come as others benefit from my depth and stretching.  If so, you will soar and touch the sky.   


Until next time, remember that you matter; you have something to contribute, and I hope you will share it.