One of the most irritating things about explaining to people how I feel is that they often dismiss my explanations for depression, and insist I seek help. It’s frustrating that people are so locked into this type of thinking that they think I’m a risk to myself or my children, but not nearly enough to do anything more than “seek help”, which often includes medication.

I do not believe I’m depressed. I am not suicidal, nor am I constantly sad and unable to function. My daughters have survived this past year along with me, and are not starved, broken or in desperate need of anything. I am able to care and provide for them just fine.

But really, I don’t fit the “classic” symptoms for depression, and I don’t think I belong in that category. Yes, living on this planet without my husband is depressing, and I loathe to do it. I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind about this. And wishing my life and it’s purpose were already fulfilled so I can get the heck out of here, does not constitute depression.  I have reasons for this:

A. I have a ton of friends. I don’t isolate myself from them, and even though I don’t see everyone of them all the time, (which would be impossible), their presence in my life is quite fulfilling. The vast majority of my friends are made up of very supportive and loving people. Even though I’m the only widow out of our social group; all of them have gone out of their way to understand what I’m going through.  I am SO INCREDIBLY BLESSED. If I really needed it, I could call on just about all of them at anytime, and they would do what they could to help me to the best of their ability. I don’t feel like I don’t have any hope. On the contrary, I have been given every opportunity for hope. If Jesus were to display His eternal love in physical evidence; it would not surprise me that He used the people who call themselves my friends, Christian and non, to prove to me that He’s got things in control.  Their friendship humbles me.

B. I believe in an “Afterlife”. I coin this term loosely, because the word “Afterlife” seems to convey a dream-like state where everything is less real. I don’t believe that the life that continues after this one is less-real in anyway. In fact, I believe it becomes MORE real when we get there. Just because we don’t use THIS body to exist on that plane or state of consciousness, does not indicate that we don’t end up in a different body, that seems just as solid and physical as the one we use here. This entire existence is all subject to a very selfish perspective. There is so much we don’t know and understand right now, and it’s arrogant to assume that things are better as an Earth-bound citizen, as opposed to a Heavenly one. This is just what I believe. Believing means I accept it and it alters my thought process. I don’t see a problem with this. Wanting to be there instead of here does not mean I am suicidal.

I had a conversation last night about this, and I adamantly explained that I am NOT suicidal. My rather wise friend replied, “…It’s because you believe it takes away your chances to see him again.” I couldn’t respond to what they said right away, because I knew it was true. Why would I want to risk that if I believe it?  And it’s also incredibly selfish. No offense to those that have suffered through that kind of death, but I am far too important to the people that love me to kill myself. Even if I didn’t believe that sticking it out ensures reuniting with Jon, my children and family would be devastated. I’ve had weak moments. I will not lie about that. But my chemicals are balanced and I am not overwhelmed by them. Suicide is not an option for me, no matter how hard life becomes. And I really hope I don’t have to test that theory. :X

Finally, I do believe that I have a purpose. I don’t know what that purpose includes or even is, but I have learned that everyone has one. The problem with finding it has to do with being available. This is something I learned from my husband, who dealt with Death too many times. I think losing his father and best friend too early in life taught him to make himself available NOW, instead of later. Jon was always ready to help anyone. He’d go out of his way to offer rides, to help people move, to thank people, to listen to them, to call them on the phone, to text them, to chaperon, to fix their computers, to rock them to sleep…the list goes on and on. If he lacked, he did not complain. I’m not trying to make him sound like a saint, because he too, had clay feet. But Jon understood that while he was on this planet, he would live his life and make sure he was available for whatever came in his path.

Most people believe that we’re called to live life to “the fullest”, which almost always seems to include “What is best for ME???”. I think we miss the whole idea.  It binds us here, to the present and keeps us focused on all the wrong ideas. Then we run around in circles trying to figure why we’re so unhappy, when we spend all our time focused on ourselves and our own needs.

I think I understand that while I am here, my own desires and dreams pale in comparison for what I can do for other people. The idea of life is to be available. To be less concerned with what I’m getting out of it than what I’m putting into it. Right now, I’m not putting enough into it to stop worrying about when I’m getting out of it. If anything, THAT is my problem.

I am sad, most of the time. I am often wistful or distracted by how much I miss my husband. And if I had my choice, I would gladly close the book and let it all go. But I haven’t made myself available enough to live, yet. I haven’t experienced the joy of fulfilling my purpose. And when I am envious of those that pass before me, it is only because I know that they have. Even if it’s not evident to everyone around them; they have completed their task and are onto the next adventure.

I have a lot to do, yet, before I can get to where I’m going. It both scares and excites me. But it doesn’t take away the anticipation I have to see my Father, and all those who made it before I did. That is not depression, folks. That is hope.