Rain, Rain, Go Away

I was sitting on the couch, talking to Chris and Carina, when I started feeling water splashing on my arm and face.  “Where is that coming from?” I thought.  Then suddenly, I knew.

Looking up, I found water dripping from the ceiling in two places.  Again.  This is a recurring problem in our house.  It started nearly two years ago, on Christmas morning, when I was given the dubious gift of rain in the living room.  Since then, it has rained several times in the spaces below the upstairs bathrooms.  I think we should call a plumber.  Chris thinks he can fix it himself.

When to call a professional instead of dealing with a problem on your own can be difficult to determine, especially when the problem is intermittent and viewed as a non-emergency.  It can be shocking to see what we acclimate ourselves to consider “normal” by slowly getting used to the abnormal.

Depression and other mental illnesses have had a similar progression in the life of our family.  After nearly five years of dormancy, I began having symptoms two years ago.  Little things at first…crying more frequently, cancelling time with friends, not answering the phone.  As time went by, my husband and children began to view my behaviors as simple peccadillos, and not symptoms of a deeper issue.  We thought we could manage the problem on our own, that it would subside like it had in the past.

But with time, the symptoms increased.  I started tapping my fingers incessantly, cleaning rooms repeatedly, sleeping long hours.  Chris was worried, and called our physician to prescribe an anti-depressant for me.  It didn’t work.  Although it did decrease many of the OCD behaviors, it didn’t cure the wound within me.  I started hurting myself to alleviate the pain I felt.

That’s when I knew I needed more help that what we could do on our own.  Getting so far from acceptable “normal” behavior, I could no longer look at what I was doing and ignore the consequences of my actions.  When I had been feeling that bad in previous years, I didn’t have children to consider.  But knowing that I had a deep responsibility to them made me realize that if I didn’t get assistance, I probably wouldn’t survive to see my kids grow up.

Admitting that this problem was more than we could handle on our own, and contacting a trusted counselor was one of the most difficult things that I have ever done.  I remember barely being able to send him the initial email because I was shaking with anxiety and struggling to type the correct keys. 

It has been nearly a year since then, and I am so grateful for what has been done in my life.  I have had to be brutally honest with myself; open myself up to others in ways I have never done before; ask for help—emotional, physical, and spiritual support; and change many of my ways of thinking.  And I couldn’t have done it without the assistance of a professional.

Sometimes the rain of difficulties becomes a downpour.  I am so glad that we have had someone to stand with us and help us find the sunshine again.  Professional counseling has brought light and laughter back into this family.