Ode to Depression

Lately, I’ve heard of so many women who are plagued with anxiety and depression.

I get it. I spent the better part of my adult life, being under the influence of that great, unshakeable, black cloud. I also had a fair share of hit you out of nowhere, heart-racing, palms-sweating anxiety.

Perhaps it is our curse or society’s creation of the noteworthy female- the perfect woman- super woman- who deals with her monthly roller coaster ride of hormones with finesse, who balances the growing and variegated demands of modern life with a perennially cool head, who gives and nurtures, asking nothing in return, who tends to her outward appearance with poise, who accomplishes lots and lots of stuff.

Whatever the cause, when this sadness or panic overtakes us, we feel helpless, possessed by it, even. Some of us hide it. Some of us self-medicate. Some of us try and struggle and fight against it- to seemingly little avail.

This ode is for all the women who understand the battle; all who wish it might be different and don’t give themselves permission to get rid of this demon on their back. And for those of you that don’t deal with either of these things- read this. You need to understand and have sympathy.

To hell with you, depression!

You can sink right back

Into the deep, dark hole that you are.

 

Heavy, my chest rises and falls

Like an incredible weight pressing down

That makes each intake a struggle.

 

I hate you, depression!

You steal days away from me

Like a languishing, wasting disease.

 

Slippery, I grasp to hold on to something,

Anything to climb up from the bottom

Of this dank, slimy pit.

 

Leave me alone, depression!

You hang over the top of me

Like a dark cloud that shrouds the sunlight.

 

Gripping, your tendrils have wrapped themselves

Around my legs and arms

Keeping me prisoner from movement.

 

You don’t own me, depression!

You try to trick me into believing

That I’ll never get through life without you.

 

Menacing, your influence lurks,

Like an invisible evil spirit

Whose black soul sucks the life from me.

 

I take my life back, depression!

Because I can and I will

Because I want to live free

Because there is more to life than this

Because a smile looks better than a frown

Because this is a fight I can win

Because bondage becomes no one

Because I am worth something

Because my strength outdoes yours

 

Because YOU DON’T DEFINE ME.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prose For a Prodigal

Every once in a while, writing is just not enough and I have to turn to poetry to express what’s on my heart. Here is something I wrote this morning as therapy for my aching soul over a child that has turned to his own way. My prayer is that if you know someone whose heart might be touched by it, you would share it with them. May God be glorified in my pain!

I look across the room,
Your eyes stare back at me.
They are the very same ones,
That were born wild and free.

Eyes wide open,
Ready to explore,
Eager to learn
And find out what’s in store.

Those same eyes,
Used to build and race cars,
Started reading and learning,
Reaching for the stars.

Then came the days,
Of timidity and fright,
“What’s real or fake?”
“What’s wrong or right?”

We showed those eyes,
The words of the Bible,
Reading and teaching,
Until the age you are liable.

Those same eyes,
Our faith did observe,
Faulty and weak at times,
But by grace preserved.

We’ve warned those eyes,
To watch with care,
For the Enemies lies,
Can trick us unaware.

Then those eyes,
Turned and subverted,
The truth traded,
The wisdom perverted.

As I look at those eyes,
My, how they’ve changed.
My heart feels broken,
Your priorities rearranged.

But God sees your eyes,
They are known by Him,
All your ways and sins,
Even those hidden deep within.

He loves those eyes,
And wants them to look,
To the grace and salvation,
Why His Son’s life he took.

So turn your eyes heavenward, son,
There true life begins,
Until then I will pray,
That your soul Jesus wins.