November is when my old enemy, Seasonal Affective Disorder, returns with boxing gloves on, pummelling me in disability before chaining me to the couch. It’s not particularly pretty – and the effects are compounded by usually high expectations of what I want to accomplish for the holidays.
But November doesn’t last forever, and neither do my bouts on the couch. December dawns (sometimes in December, sometimes in May, depending on the year) and I emerge from the fog.
This week I’m thankful…
…for medication
It always feels like a failure to go back to my doctor and ask for medication yet again this year. Shouldn’t I outgrow the disorder, I think. Shouldn’t I just be able to manage? But once I’m outside the fog, I remember that taking the medication isn’t failure, it’s victory. It corrects things just enough that I am capable of trying to manage. And I am so thankful for it.
…for my husband
When I am inclined to fret and fuss about my circumstances, about my own failures, about how I’m not normal – Daniel reminds me that I can’t expect to be the same or to feel the same now as I’ve “always” felt. My circumstances are different. I’ve never been 30 before, never had a one year old before, never had a 30 year old husband before :-) It’s okay for me to feel different. I am different. And that’s okay. Almost 3 years into marriage, my husband remains a potent evidence of God’s grace in my life.
…for family
We spent the last week of November with our families in Lincoln. My brother from Wisconsin and his family were in town and I enjoyed the ultimate in therapy – long conversations with family, low stress games (we played lots of Forbidden Island and Pandemic, both cooperative games), sleeping in, and no pressure to keep the house clean.
…for delight
There have been hard parts and fun parts of every stage of Tirzah Mae’s development (except maybe the three month long newborn phase – that was just hard). But this has been the least hard and the most fun stage so far. Tirzah Mae is imitating. She pantomimes pumping the hand sanitizer bottle and then wiping her hands together. She delights to wash dishes with me. Nothing suits her better than to stir some imaginary batter in a sour cream tub while I’m stirring real batter. She “folds” laundry and “reads” books and wipes the floor. She tries her hand at brushing her own teeth (now that I’ve realized I can harness her imitative power by brushing my own teeth in front of her). This stage is a delight, and seeing her imitating me has been a bright spot amidst the darkness of the season.
…for last year’s mercy
Even as I felt I was sinking this November, I was (and still am) acutely aware and overwhelmingly thankful for last year’s mercy. I’ve had Seasonal Affective Disorder for at least 15 years, have required medication to cope for the past 10 or so. But last year, I was off my medications, I was pumping and traveling to visit my preemie in the NICU, I was immediately postpartum with a birth experience that was exactly the opposite of my hopes – and I had no depression at all. God was so merciful to spare me that last year.
…for the One whose power is made perfect in weakness
Every year, when the strongman overcomes my defenses, when I find myself waving the white flag in surrender yet again, when I am again taken captive to the encroaching darkness, I am reminded of my need to rely on God. My body, my mind, my heart are so frail. I feel at the mercy of the sun, but that is when I must fall on the mercy of God. And when I fall upon His mercy, He shows himself strong, again and again and again. When I am weak, He is shown strong.
Thank you, Thank you, Lord.
“My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
~Psalm 73:26