Breaking the Blues: My Trinity
Okay, it’s been a minute. But we are back.
Hudson on one of our forest walks near the Cove by our home.
Like most of the world, our family got swept in the RSV+Flu tandem plague that’s been swirling around these past few weeks. I hear some folks are getting a side of Covid making it a pleasant triple hitter. (May the odds be ever in your favor.) To whoever is reading this and has had to take a babe (or yourself) to the ER/ had to make the early morning calls to the doctor hoping for a same day appointment, my prayers and thoughts have been with you. It has felt next level unhinged. Partially because having sick kids quickly reverts the home routine to the newborn phase, meaning no one in the house is sleeping. Fatigue and sleep deprivation are the enemy and no amount of coffee will solve your brain's despairing thoughts at 6:30 in the mourn.
It has also felt “unhinged” because it was quarantine life all over again. Despite all the carnage, the residual economic and political ramifications of the pandemic, our family experienced a sweet season during Covid. That said I never want to relive the isolation, fear and media/online culture that occurred during those years, it was unhealthy. People need to be together to remember compassion and kindness, to live out our commonalities and see how our differences enhance not hamper society. This is beside the point and a post for a later time. My point is, getting cooped up in the house by yourself with two littles brings back the ptsd quickly. I use ptsd lightly. It was hard and the “trauma” that maybe did exist has allowed for growth… but I didn’t remember and use that growth until this last week.
The week prior to my birthday, I saw the metaphorical iceberg on the horizon. I got a sore throat which is the first thing to go in my body when I’ve caught something, Hudson started to sink around the same time. I naively believed if we ignored feeling terrible and drank lots of water, it would go away. It was cute thinking but our Titanic hit the iceberg head on and our ship sank gradually over the course of a week, I cursed myself for thinking hydration station was the ticket. First round was some flu virus that lingered for a week. Following week Hudson got hit with RSV with a side of an ear infection and a week later he graciously shared RSV with Jack, Lucas and I. We canceled playdates, preschool, BSF, church, dinner dates and our calendar overnight went quiet.
The quiet also sunk in as the sunsets snuck up earlier and the temperature swiftly dipped thirty degrees. Our slow mornings and afternoons outside turned indoors amplifying our confinement. It’s no surprise Hudson’s brain broke around the same time mine did. He took his angst out on the walls with Sharpie maker, which I found horrifying at the time and now find to be a brilliant means of expression. Ones gotta feel what ones gotta feel, ya know.
Hudson Clements
(Renton/2019)
Excavator Waterfall (2022)
Black ink (xylene, toluene and urethane resin) on latex drywall.
7ft x 10 in
$100
So what was I feeling other than alone and self-pity? It took some digging and I realized it was fear, I didn’t want the isolation to stir up depression. Anytime I’m sick I feel blue, and it’s always tricky to decipher temporary disappointment from a more long-term depression. To be honest I found myself in a very similar headspace during postpartum which ironically coincided with Covid for both pregnancies. Depression was always knocking at my heart through the course of Covid but God placed some tangible “sacraments” in my daily rhythms that helped lift my eyes from myself. I had forgotten these practices BUT once again God graciously reminded me to pick up his tools.
I use the word sacrament loosely, I would say it’s simply a practice that helps me experience God’s presence. Here lies a mystery of faith that I could no more answer, but being in His presence leads to peace, greater understanding and ultimately renews my identity and calling. He literally is an antidote to self-focus driven depression.
(Not all depression is the same, I want to be clear. This has been my experience with situational not chronic depression. Please do not hear “if a person’s faith or relationship with God is too little, they are responsible for their depression.” That is dangerous and poor theology and not what I am saying.)
Here are the three practices I have found helpful:
Get into His Word:
Liturgies are fine, devotions are lovely, the daily bible verse apps are useful but your soul needs sustenance and a solid meal, not crumbs off the table. We are consumers and worshipers by nature, it is how we are designed. How we spend our time, what we spend our time doing shows what we worship, what we value most. This is always so convicting for me because it is easy to see at times how much I worship myself (ex: I would rather scroll on IG than be in the Word). Whenever I forget or belittle the importance of the Bible, my mind reaches for other fuel to consume for identity building, which is never encouraging and leads to comparison, despair, pride, shame, etc. Truly the Word is the best place to learn who I am because it reveals who created me and how much greater and in control and loving He is than me.
Tangibly it looks like getting into the word daily and being a part of a Bible study where I have women walking with me and holding me accountable. Right now I participate in BSF and we are able to meet weekly via zoom and in person. During Covid we also met via zoom weekly and it was such a gift to be able to have a weekly fellowship with women.
2 . Serve Others/Share Meals:
During the first week of our sickness I was able to bring a meal to a sweet family who had their second baby. The act of having something to do was a gift for Hudson and I and being able to deliver it helped us feel like we were still in a community, despite the physical separation. On week three I had hit a wall and after crying in my online BSF group, a sweet friend in the circle asked if she could bring us a meal. I accepted sheepishly, I didn’t know then how much I needed to let someone love us. Breaking bread prepared by others is a powerful way to feel connected and grateful for the body of God’s people.
There is a reason Jesus used meals in his ministry to demonstrate who He was. From turning water to wine at a wedding, multiplying fish and loaves for thousands of his followers, to his last supper and eating fish with his disciples after His resurrection. Food provides us sustenance and nutrition, our body is dependent on it as much as our soul is dependent on the Word. But there is something supernatural in breaking bread with believers, we are taking communion and remembering the sacrifice of Christ that provides us the grace to not only be reconciled with God but also to be in lasting, redeeming relationships with one another.
3 . Move the Body and Get Outside:
Okay not like the Black Friday #getoutside. One of the biggest mental hang ups I fall into when I’m sick is feeling blue from the lack of fresh air and exercise. Running and swimming are my mental health clean up crew. So when I’m resting and can’t exert myself, getting outside into the quiet for a walk is necessary. Walking became a cornerstone for so many during Covid and I honestly miss the days when I saw all my neighbors out and about.
Again, it shouldn’t be a surprise that our bodies operate better when placed in secluded spaces for restoration. Jesus would retreat from the crowds and even from his own disciples at times to be alone in prayer with God. He climbed mountains and entered gardens. The fresh quiet air allows our voice to calm so the Lord’s voice can be heard, I would argue even His presence can be felt.
Jack likes to eat sunglasses so none of our pairs are not broken - this is as straight as they get.
Winter in the Pacific Northwest can be beautiful, slow, festive, even bright but those are not my first instinctual thoughts. Seasonal Affective Disorder always freaks me out and it doesn’t matter how many cookies I bake, how many cups of tea I pour, the 4:15pm sunsets are just crazy making. So I write this all to say, I am thankful for the early and sudden reality check. Summer can be a languishing season for faith because it can be easy to fall into the self-sufficient trap. We are never not needy. We need rich, good sustenance for the soul and the body and the Lord tangibly provides us all we need to grow even in the darkest months.
We had many dark months there during Covid and He provided a way through, it was not easy but it allowed many to mature in faith. My muscle memory of these practices got weak and setting time for intentional dinners, time in the Word and walks outside will take practice. But I am thankful this winter doesn’t need to be hard in the old ways. I’m sure it will still be hard in new ways but that is the point of growing and learning. I am curious to see where and how God will meet me along the Cobblestone Road this winter.
