Yesterday I received some not-so-wonderful news from my therapist. I won’t go into it right now but it was at the same time both validating and discouraging.
After, I went with Kristen and Lucy for a short 3-mile sunset walk on the beach. We are so lucky to live in such a beautiful place. I regret that my severe depression symptoms keep me from enjoying it more.
Depression symptoms and tomatoes?
During our walk, Kristen and I began talking about our new garden and the things we want to plant and the stuff I’ve learned in my research. The topic of tomatoes came up. I told her that I learned it was super healthy to bury most of the plant into the ground, not just the roots. The more of the plant that you bury the stronger the plant becomes. It works its way trough the dirt and when it finally comes out it is so strong that it can withstand the threats of its environment. It produces a much better fruit as well.
Kristen was so surprised at this. I agreed that it seemed counter intuitive. The science makes sense but I can’t wrap my head around burying an already beautiful and healthy plant further into the dirt again.
This lead me to think of my particular situation. Is that what’s happening to me? Am I being buried deeper in the dirt so that I can rise and be stronger than I ever was? Is this my Bruce Wayne in the underground prison only to rise again moment? (You’ll learn that everything with me parallels marathon running…or Batman.)
What if God’s allowing this immense pain, this darkness, this dirt so that I may rise from the ground stronger than I ever thought I could be and produce a great abundance of fruit in line with my purpose? What if I’m buried because he wants me ready to pursue the purpose he has for me and exceed my wildest expectations. What if I need to be buried in order to do that?
But then, just as quickly as I made the connection, I realized that I didn’t care. If the tomato plant had feelings if it could articulate its thoughts, would it think being buried was worth it? Would it believe that the darkness, discomfort, and loneliness of the dirt was worth the extra strength and the abundance of fruit?
Sitting in the dirt, feeling so far below the surface I can’t say I believe it’s worth it.
The Christian filled with hope in God – the guy who gets chills every time Bruce Wayne climbs out of the pit and returns to Gotham wants to believe it is worth it. Somewhere in my heart, enduring these depression symptoms, I KNOW it is worth it. But I certainly do not feel it is worth it today.
Ask me yesterday and I’d say I quit. It isn’t worth it. I don’t want to exceed my potential. I just want out of this dirt. Ask me tomorrow and I might say something different.
This post has no conclusion. I don’t have the answer. I may never have it.
This is just me being transparent. I hope someone reads this and can relate. Clinical depression is a dark world that nobody understands unless they’ve lived in it. It’s important that I share some of this so the person who feels alone or weird or un-fixable knows they are not alone. They are not weird. And, while they may be broken now, they can be repaired.
“And why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.” – Thomas Wayne
Enjoy this article? Please tell a friend.
If you liked this or any articles on the site, recommending Sad Runner to your friends is one of the highest compliments you can give.
The more people know about Sad Runner, the more we can share our message that a depression diagnosis does not have to be the end of the story.