This Is My Cross To Bear

I went for a check up at the doctor to review how well the depression medication has been working.  (And for the most part, it has been working quite well, actually. So if you notice more pep in my step that's why). Unfortunately, it seems that what I most feared him saying is exactly what he said:

Chronic Clinical Depression

It runs in the women in my family. I had hoped by some weird genetic thing it would skip me altogether, but I guess not.

And I had it in my head that if I went on medication for it, I would somehow be acknowledging to the world that I am crazy even though I had a roommate who studied psychology and had explained it like so: "You take care of your physical health and your spiritual health, so why not your mental health?"

And even still, I had another friend who explained it as such: "If you have a stomach ache, you take a pill to make it go away. So it's the same thing. Your heart aches, so you take a pill to make it go away."

And to some extent, it is true. But I still have my days. For example, the other day, Heathcliff's mom e-mailed me to express how upset she was that I wasn't around for Easter (which I completely don't understand because she is pagan-primitive Baptist [odd, yes, but it's true]). Of course, that set me off.  All I wanted to do was to crawl into bed, turn the lights off, and stare at the wall for the entire day.

But this is a lesson I learned this past Lent - and oddly enough, it started with a church sign.  Every time I go by a church sign, I like to read the pithy little sayings. There's one on the way to work.  And about the start of Lent, it read, "happiness is a choice." I scoffed at it, but for some reason, it stuck in my head, and every morning I passed by it, I read it and read it again. And I really began to wonder if happiness was truly a choice. I mean, after all, I believe in freewill - I am a Catholic.

And then, everywhere I went, I began to hear that phrase repeated without even bringing it up. A friend I hadn't seen in five years told me upon hanging out with me, "Happiness is a choice."  When I first started hanging out with Ireland, the subject came up, and he even said, "happiness is a choice." Everywhere I freaking turned, it was as if God was beating me over the head with this message.

For the entirety of Lent, I feel like this is what I was supposed to have learned. Happiness truly is a choice.  Of course, there will be things to make you sad, but you can't let the sadness dominate you to where it sucks all the joy from your life. I had let the depression overtake almost all of my life, even to the point where I got no joy from going to mass.  It had almost become a chore. After being on the medicine, I'm more than happy to go to mass on Sunday and weekdays if I have the time.

All in all, I guess what I'm saying is that I know God gives everyone what they can handle. And so far in my life, I really didn't feel like I had any crosses.  But I feel like this is my cross to bear. My hardship to offer up.  My suffering to join to His.  And I will choose to be happy with the circumstances I'm dealt, and when I can't handle it and want to be sad, I will offer it up to Him.

Glory and praise to you Lord Jesus Christ. Your will be done.