The Grocery Store after Dark

I don't really want to blog about this.  But I do.  This is what this blog is about. 
Me.  Me AND my struggles. 
Victories too, but if I just blog about the victories, you won't really understand how victorious they are. 

So here is one of my "crazy" struggles. 

I struggle more in the winter with depression than in the summer.  The official name is SAD: Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Why must they name it that?  (It's the little things that drag us down.)  Couldn't they have worked a little harder to find an acronym that spelled GLAD or HAPPY or ANYTHING but SAD???!!!  Winter Blues sounds better than SAD.  Get back with me if you can come up with a more encouraging name for it.  

Well, I have a whole lot I could say about this, but let me just tell you what happened last night, because when I get too far away from it, even I can't believe it is really as hard as it really is.  To start with, Really gloomy day Saturday - saved by the Red Coat, a little bit of shopping and a wonderful family dinner at a Japanese Steak house. 

Sunday was going okay.  I had intended on making split pea soup with a left over ham bone from Christmas.  Got all the ingredients the night before (while talking to my sister on the phone - key point - that is how that shopping trip in the dark after the dinner at the Japanese steakhouse was saved).  I had thought I'd put it (the soup) together before church, but reality told me I really didn't have time, and for once I listened to her.  We picked up lunch from the deli after church (ah, lunch was saved), and after lunch I followed the recipe and had a yummy dinner all tossed in the crock pot by 2:30.  The recipe also suggested serving with grilled cheese sandwiches which sounded very tempting - especially as I wasn't too sure this would be a popular recipe with all the little men in my house.  But I didn't hunt out all the ingredients for that added touch and hoped my Man would call on his way home with the boys from the Clemson basketball game.  He usually does.  But this time, he didn't.  No biggie.

They came in at 6:45, ravished as most boys always are, and were completely delighted to smell food.  They even seemed hopeful about the split pea soup.  (Hubby and I do love it - I wasn't just making it to torture them.)  I looked at the leftover clean up from making the soup and suddenly decided against grilled cheese sandwiches.  Instead there was a lovely bag of cornbread mix with a recipe right on the back that called out to me.  So, I read out the ingredients and Will, eager to help, got out an egg for me, but when I said 2 cups of milk, he said, "Mommy, we don't have any milk."  UGH!

"We are out of milk." I called out. 

(Often there is a fabulous reply from my Knight in Shining Armor saying, "I'll be glad to go get milk."  And he is usually genuinely glad to do it - especially if it is an ingredient for dinner.)

He must not have heard me or didn't hear the little bit of desperation creeping into my voice.  It might not have been hear-able.

I don't fully know it at this point, but a battle has begun in my head with Depression. 

I don't want to go to the store this late.  It's dark outside.  Where are my shoes.  Forget shoes, where are my socks.  Few rounds around the house to find necessities.  It's so late.  The boys are going back to school tomorrow.  Just forget it.  We will need milk for the morning.  Why don't you just keep powdered milk in the house for this type of emergency.  It's not that big a deal.  It's just a quick drive to the grocery store; besides, powdered milk is nasty and you would get those pantry bugs in it.  OK, now where is my coat.  Where are my keys.  Why are they showing reruns of OJ Simpsons famous bronco ride and all the news casts surrounding it?  My boys have a million questions and are sort of freaking out because they are thinking it is happening right now.  They are mesmerized.  I don't want to leave them hear watching a past sports hero threatening suicide from 15 years ago or so.  I watch a little with them.  Two boys go upstairs.  Leaving Grayson still asking what is happening.

I ask Grayson to go with me to the store.  He looks at me a little funny, but that gets him away from that sad story unfolding from the past and it helps me with my huge task at hand.

I grab my keys, check for my wallet, holler to Dale, and we go out the door. 

To me every step feels like stepping knee high through pluff mud.  My heart beats faster, and my breath comes in short quick intakes. 

Then we open the door from the garage to the driveway, and the night is BLACK.  For some reason I wasn't expecting it to be so dark.  It is only seven.  It feels like eleven, and I feel smaller than ever and scared - just a little bit scared.  Scared not of the dark or things outside, but of the evident shadow that is following me - depression. 

In the car feels even darker, because the back windows are tinted.  A great help in the summer heat, but in the dark it makes it harder to see out, especially when backing out of my driveway.

It helps to have my little Sunshine with me.  He keeps my mind of all this ridiculous struggle going on within me.  They have moved the milk. Ugh.  Oh, well, I wanted to get Organic milk anyways.  They have moved the Organic milk too.  Ugh.  OK, well, we might as well grab some cheese and bread in case we decide on the grilled cheese anyways.  All the way to the other side of the store.  Organic Milk.  Let's get two while we are here.  We can never have enough milk at our house.  (I used to buy 5 FIVE gallons at a time when they were little).  To the front, pay, pack and out of there.  Wow, Organic milk is expensive.

Out in the suffocating dark again.  Glad to have Grayson with me. 

Home, Inside. 

Quick confession to Dale.  "That was hard." 
"What do you mean, that was hard.  I thought you were doing good."
"I have been.  When it starts to go downhill, I don't want to admit it or it makes it more sure."
Then the tears come.  Just a few. 
"How bad is it?"

But I didn't know my older boy was right there too.  "I don't want to talk about it right now."  Not really.
I tell him the frustration of trying to make the cornbread and not having milk . . . 

We give up on the cornbread and have the soup with bread and butter.  They all eat it with happy hearts.  One isn't crazy about it, but says it is okay.  Another eats his whole bowl and loves it.  The third, I'm just thrilled if he eats any - and he does; even says he likes it.  Dale and I have seconds.

I will probably come back to this another time.  I think grocery shopping and meal preparation is a tough thing for a lot of people who struggle with depression.  What makes it so odd is that I know it is not normal for me.  I know I can be very good at this simple task.  It's not that big a deal, but sometimes just the asking for help is the hardest struggle to overcome. 

Well, that was hard.  I'd like to give a lot of excuses or tell you that didn't happen just last night.  My prayer is that it will help someone.  Lord, my life is Yours.  Has been for a long time.  You have given me this malady, this sickness, this disorder.  May I use it to honor You.  Thank you so much for putting stories in the Bible of people who suffered with depression and illness.  Right now thank you for the woman with the bleeding sickness for 12 years.  Her story is a comfort to me.  Thank You for healing her.

Would love to hear your thoughts on this one.