Depression sucks.

If PPD is "all in my head" then there is something wrong with my head. Because symptoms are trickling down to other parts of my body. My eyes leak the tears I've held back over years of trying to be strong. My heart aches for what I gave up to get where I am. Yes, sometimes I miss being away from it all, even when all I prayed for is in my lap. Or, was in my lap but is now in the other room unloading my bookshelf. Oh brother. I'm really tired of the fight. Tired of fighting back tears, anger, harsh words of frustration. Tired of the reparation when I don't have the strength to hold back. Maybe I shouldn't be fighting. Maybe I need to get out of the way so the LORD can fight for me. But . . . just what does that look like, anyhow? To get out of God's way so that I can be whole again? To "be still and know"? It doesn't seem to be just sitting around on my hands or twiddling my thumbs. Being still doesn't solve the daily dinner dilemma, nor does it conquer Mount St. Helluvalottalaundry. The business of life has to continue while I wait on God, or everybody goes naked and starves. But what am I waiting for? For the weather to change so I can open the windows again? For my husband to get home so I can run away for some peace and quiet alone? For the baby to learn how to sleep without being held so I can have the use of both hands? For my oldest to old enough to go out to play alone? But . . . why should my peace be dependent upon any of this? Why can I not have peace where I am, with dishes undone, with a two-year-old trying to help me type, with my left arm pinned under one who needed to nurse to sleep? The truth is, my peace shouldn't be wrapped up in any of this. My sense of peace comes from the Prince of Peace. If I should not be home with my children, the Lord would not have allowed this to happen . . . would He? So many questions when what I really need to do is trust the One who gave me life. I wasn't expecting this new life to be easy, but I can admit I *was* hoping for a little more peace.