Depression, Angst, and Beaches

It's Monday, which is supposed to be "Made by You Monday" and I've got nothing. No creative meals. No crochet. No sewing. 

What I do have is a pretty bad case of the blahs. I've been struggling since right before Memorial Day. I went back and looked at older journals. I do see a pattern of deep depression in the late spring and early summer. Maybe it is just that it's been a good, long while since I felt this way, but I'm really having trouble with this round.

Tomorrow will be an anniversary of sorts. Not a good anniversary, but a really bad one. It will have been 31 years since the rape I survived in college. I don't know if that is the primary driving factor in this round of depression, but I keep thinking if I can just get through tomorrow things will begin looking up. But that little voice in my head says, "What if they don't?" And I look at that number -- 31 -- and that little voice says, "That was a long time ago. Let it go." (with apologies to the "Frozen" fans -- but that song has just about done me in!)

As I've said before, traumatic events such as rape and sexual abuse -- abuse of any kind -- leave deep, lasting scars. I don't choose to be depressed. I feel guilty for having these feelings. I know how good my life is now. I know the blessings in my life. I know that so many people are suffering right now, and I'm not. And yet, none of that knowledge seems to knock out the depression.

I can give some rational explanations for the depression and its annual visit -- most of the abuse occurred in the summer; that rape in college caused a lasting rift in close relationships that lingers to this day impacting daily choices and conversations; there are a lot of things that I'll simply never have answers to about all of the abuse. But the fact is rational doesn't do much good against recurring depression. Sometimes I just feel really stupid and slow that I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not a bad person . . . bad things were done to me. I feel as if everyone else looks at me and thinks, "Sheesh, is she still struggling with that?!" 

So once more I make a plan. I write out a doable to-do list. I drink hot tea and listen to music. I wait for my best friend to get here and help me implement my list. I think about the upcoming trip dh and I have planned. And I try really hard to be happy instead of depressed. 

But here's the funny thing. I went and Googled "depression quotes" and as I read through them, they made me mad. All that angst and whining. And I do feel better for having read those silly quotes, maybe because they got me out of my own head for a little while, and maybe because I realize I'm not the only one in this struggle. All those perfect people out there probably aren't as perfect as I think they are. 

So here's to summertime blues and the need to feel my way through them to get to the other side. I'm pretty sure that's why God gave me beaches!