Moody

My depression has been spreading rumors about me. Last night it insisted that I am stupid, ineffective, irresponsible. I tried to yell it down and shame it with logic, but truth was only partially useful.

My three-year-old learned in Sunday school last week that "God is the biggest," and together we learned this verse: "The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save" (Zephaniah 3:17). God kept handing me that assurance last night, and I trust He is mighty enough to save me from my own self-abusing thoughts.

I was caught off guard by all that interior drama last night. I'd had a good day.

a.m.: Deliver happy child to school. Deliver remaining happy children to sitter's house. Visit with a friend.

p.m.: Spend a few hours at the library. An hour at home for dishes, one toilet scrub, and a short nap. Retrieve happy children from various activities. Husband home shortly after. Cook a simple, healthy dinner that is consumed with minimal whining.

later p.m.: Bedtime for kids. I retreat to dark bedroom. Lie still and concentrate on battle between rumor-mongering depression and truths I know about self. Tend to stuffy-nosed children who cannot get to sleep. Bemoan emotional state to husband.

I see no reason for the precipitous decline in my mood, except the darkness outside and my own fatigue. I sure can't do anything about the sun setting, and I can't do much about getting tired at the end of the day.

I've been advised to keep a mood chart. That is, to keep track of my mood at morning, noon, and night over a period of time to see if there's a pattern to the ups and downs. I'm not keen on this. What could be bad about gathering data, you ask? Mainly this: it involves agreeing that there is a problem about which data ought to be gathered. If I don't write it down, then one or two good days can make the moodiness seem like a distant, unimportant memory. Denial has proven an effective coping tool in the last couple of years, and I am loathe to cast it off.