You Capture Autumn - Fallen

For weeks now, I’ve enjoyed Beth’s You Capture carnival, which is hosted at her fabulous blog I Should Be Folding Laundry . This is my first time joining the party, and while I know my picture isn’t your typical autumn portrait, I hope my words will explain why this captures fall best for me this year.

It has been such a weird autumn.

Not only has the weather been downright bizarre – our September was hotter than our August, for example, and October has been freakishly cold and gray and rainy – but I’ve been dealing with the first trimester blahs.

I normally glory in this time of year. It’s so beautiful. The sky is bluer than the brightest peacock, the leaves shine like jewels. The air is crisp, the apples are juicy. We spend every minute we can outside and marvel at the extravagance, even as we ache at its fleetingness.

But not this year.

In fact, looking back over the last few months, I’ve decided that I actually had first trimester depression (which is not a technical medical condition, as far as I know, but stick with me here). I’ve never known post-partum depression, but I’ve had friends who’ve grappled with that dark beast, and I feel like I’ve had my own wrestling match the last few weeks. I hate feeling sick, and dealing with nausea 24-7 for weeks on end drains every ounce of optimism I have. I live in a fog of hopelessness. I isolate myself, mostly because I don’t have the energy to be anything other than a blog. But I also hide in my cave because I’m miserable that I can’t do anything to stop this downward spiral.

I think this depressed lethargy might explain why I didn’t start taking the Unisom-B6 earlier in the pregnancy. As I mentioned in this post, my husband was incredulous when I said I hadn’t been taking Unisom-B6. I protested that it was really due to the fact that I couldn’t find it, even though I knew I had a stash somewhere in the house. He shot back: “But I would have happily gone to the drugstore and bought more! Why didn’t you just ask?”

I had no answer. No answer that made sense, anyway. I guess I just felt so miserable, I didn’t think it could ever get better. “I will be sick like this for the rest of my life,” was a thought that hung at the periphery of my brain. “I will probably die this way.”

I couldn’t even pray. It felt like God’s light couldn’t penetrate my fog. I was alone, miserable and completely without hope.

Stupid? Absolutely. Real? Unfortunately yes.

My experience, small in scope as it was, has given me a new compassion for people who deal with lifelong disability. They must have to fight that battle on a daily basis. Life loses its luster when you don’t feel good. I have a renewed energy to pray for those I know who deal regularly with disease, pain and frustration. Lord, be so very near.

I say this all so you can know: I am getting better. I’m starting to feel again, which is a gift, and I’m starting to regain a sense of hope.

I even see a seed of beauty in this season, this strange autumn that has been more bluster than beauty.

For in the midst of the fallen, there is promise for the spring.