One of my favorite hymns is “Amazing Grace”. I love the lyrics. There is the simplicity in the message that grace is at the root of all that I have been given, but also profoundness in that grace is “sweet” like a sound, can bring me fear, but also calm my fears, and grace can “lead me home.” And one of my favorite lines in the song is in the first stanza “…was blind, but now I see.”
I can’t imagine being blind, but whenever I sing this line or listen to it sung, I always think about the wonder and amazement someone would have to feelfrom going from darkness to light. What are the emotions that would tumble over themselves as the world went from this
I while I haven’t literally had my eyesight restored, I feel like I am now a seeing person, where I was once stumbling around blind.
I am not in the depths of depression.
Over the last four months, I have been pulling, clawing, scrabbling, hauling myself out of a pit so deep, black was all I could see. And for the last two of the four months, life has been different — brighter, lighter, freer — dare I say, more fun?
This disease with which I live is a monster, a lying, cold-hearted, selfish disease that has demanded all my energy and attention for many years of my life. I’m not sure when I first knew that I suffered from depression, but I don’t ever remember not being plagued by some of the symptoms of depression, even as a little girl in elementary school. My ability to manage it and live “depression-free” has varied through the years. And my ego has played a role in self-delusion that “I have it under control.”
The last thing that I had under control during the past three years was my depression. It was firmly in control–but nobody had yet admitted it. So, like a puppet regime, I went through the days like I was in charge, maybe fooling no one but myself. Maybe fooling everyone. Only those close to me can answer if they were more aware of my condition than I was.
And that is one of the scary, lying, dangerous games that depression plays with you — it’s those mind games she pulls on her victims all the time. One minute you KNOW you are on top of your game; the next minute, you’re questioning if you’re competent enough to place your own order at McDonald’s.
But this blog isn’t about reliving the deep valleys that were landscape of my illness, but to recognize and celebrate the joy that I CAN and DO feel now. The happy moments that I CAN and DO appreciate daily. The accomplishments that I CAN and DO take pride in and feel worthy of.
My God has a salvation plan for me that extends beyond this life. I believe this. My God has also given me a wonderful gift during this life, however, to feel the awesomeness (I just can’t think of a better word) of feeling blind, but finding sight.