I rejoice this morning. But it was not without worry.
Worry that I was once again slipping into the dark void of depression.
It's been a hard winter in that regard. I'm nowhere near as low as I was two years ago. Uffda, that was a bad time. As I've said before, I didn't even realize I was there. At that spot. I just kept plugging along, doing my thing, which at the time wasn't much. But once I started to feel better, Oh, my! I couldn't believe the fullness of life that I had been missing.
And I don't ever want to go back to that place.
This morning I got up. I had three goals: finish the final set of bootcuffs for Allie's order, so I could send them with Joe to deliver to Cheryl at Nazareth; switch the wash load so I had some clean unders for church; make hot breakfast.
For a couple of years or more I've had my alarm clock set for 5:30 and 6:00. It's an old second hand one, and the buttons are stiff and very hard to reset. So I mostly leave the settings as is, even if I don't want to get up at those times. It's easy enough to just hit the button and go back to sleep right? Sometimes I set my kitchen timer to go off at the time I really want to get up. Sometimes I use Joe's little battery operated travel alarms.
I try to get up by the 6:00 alarm most days, but this winter I've found myself more often opting for the kitchen alarm at 6:30. I knew this morning I had to be up by 6:00 if I wanted to get the bootcuffs done to send with Joe at 7:00.
So I sat on the edge of my bed. And had a great. Big. Argument. With myself.
One of those in which you can almost hear the temptation in one ear, and what little bit of strength of conscience you can summon in the other.
"You can send the boot cuffs with Joe later, after the Oak Park service. You don't have to have it done first thing." "Cold cereal is fine." "The clothes will be dry by church time even if you go back to sleep for awhile."
And so on.
And I was close. So, so close to going back to bed.
But I didn't.
After I got up, I realized that the reason it was so hard to get up was that it hard for me to care. I found it hard to find any real reason that the above things were really important.
And I realized that most of this winter I haven't cared. I've simply gone back to bed with no further thought.
And so I worried. "Is this the beginning?" "Am I slipping again?" "I do really care, but why is it so hard to feel?"
But what I finally realized is that I DID GET UP!
I said to Joe, "I don't know whether I should be worried that took so much argument, or rejoice that I actually realized there ought to be an argument."
We both agreed to go with the second. There are times when just realizing one ought to argue against the lack of caring is progress. When even the pang of conscience is laudable.
And this morning, I rejoice in that fact! I thank God for it. And I thank Him even more for the Salvation through Jesus, which washes me clean of all the times that even the pang of conscience is missing.