Look up to the Light

For those of you who have been paying attention to my column and this paper in general, you may have noticed I had a major event recently. I couldn’t have asked for a better book launch. The love of family, friends, and soon-to-be friends was incredible. The book is already helping people (thank you God!)

So, you would think I would have been floating on a cloud all last week. But life often throws us surprises. Multiple ones in a matter of hours. Negative surprises that make us feel like the world is tilting on its axis.

This happened to me on the Monday evening only three days after my launch. Personal issues smacked me upside the head – some had been simmering for months, others popped up over the weekend.

My professional life decided to throw some punches my way as well. Finally, after one more hit, I had, as my dear friend and fellow columnist Jan says, a “come apart.” I may have slid some chairs violently into our dining room table as I wailed, cried, and threw down my purse.

The last straw was me trying to help myself through journaling at bedtime but opening my book to a sweet memory of my mother … whom I’ve been missing lately. Wailing and crying were nothing compared to the sobs that escaped me at that moment. When I finally did sleep, I had constant nightmares.

When I woke up Tuesday morning, prying my swollen eyelids open, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was in the bottom of “the pit,” as I call it, a dark place I go to when depression strikes. No, I don’t have clinical depression. I have dear friends and family who battle this, so I don’t throw the term around lightly. But I was definitely depressed.

If I hadn’t had a big grant application deadline that day and a client crisis needing to be resolved, I would have stayed in bed. I reached out to my bestie who encouraged me to take one step at a time. So that’s what I did, pausing with a short, “Help, God” prayer now and then. My head hurt and I was exhausted all day.

When I made it to 4:30, my normal quitting time, I thanked God I survived. I told my team I’d be taking the next day off for a Mental Health Day. I was in pajamas by 6 watching a Pixar movie and in bed by 8:30.

I know many of my readers have had moments like this. Moments where you’re in the dark pit of life, desperately looking up trying to find the light. Moments where you remember the person you normally are but can’t find again to save your life.

It’s okay to be in the pit. To cry out to God or the universe simply saying “HELP!” It was the best I could do last week. We gotta hold to our faith, breathe, and take one step at a time.

When I woke up Wednesday, I felt better physically. John and I ran errands, some I had been meaning to do for months. I wasn’t my perky self, but I saw glimpses of my light. And by Wednesday evening, God began to answer my prayers one by one in unexpected ways. I’m still in awe about it all as I write this.

If you’re temporarily in the pit, please know there is light above. Look up to find it and don’t hesitate to ask for help.

And if you’ve been depressed for more than two weeks, please talk to your doctor, therapist, counselor, or pastor. We live in a world with so many resources to help. You are loved, and you are not alone.

Amy Shankland is an empty-nester, writer, and fundraising professional living in Noblesville with her husband John and two dogs. You can reach her via email at amys@greenavenue.info.