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My friend, Georgie has her confessional booth open and ready to roll. Although I'm not Catholic, I've never been able to picture myself sitting in a confessional booth and confessing stuff like, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned....I took what didn't belong to me....there was a shopping cart that had stuff in it...I needed a cart and there was no one close by...so I took it." Actually, if I was Catholic, by now, the Priest would've told me to take my sorry bottom home and think about my wrong doings and stop confessing every little darn thing running through my head.
But, in all seriousness, confession is good for the soul. It releases endorphins which in return releases adrenaline which releases pheromones which lead to lots of romantic rendezvous. So, go and confess...your honey will thank you.
Anyway, back to my confession...I am a person that suffers from depression. It's not something I'm proud of but I've come to accept it as what it is. I have dealt with judgemental opinions such as, "You are a Christian woman and Christians don't get depressed." Well, I'm here to tell you that yes.we.do. And, there's nothing to be ashamed of in admitting that.
My depression actually started before I reached my teens. I now know that it was a chemical imbalance that to this day, runs in the family. As a young girl, I tried to explain it but couldn't. There just weren't words. As I went into my adult years, I knew what I was dealing with and wanted to feel like I was no longer wearing a painted smile but crying on the inside. I had the most awesome doctor. She was an old school doc. I told her all that I was feeling and she said quite calmly, "You're depressed but it's not the end of the world." She was my lifesaver. She prescribed medication that I have come to see as "happy pills". No, I'm not flying like a kite, nor am I drugged out and drooling...but I'm feeling balanced and secure...no longer feeling like the floor is falling from beneath me. I still have my bad days...especially when I feel sorry for myself and feel like there's no light at the end of the tunnel but for those days, I reach for either music or my sense of humor. It keeps me going, with God's grace!
If you feel the need to confess...head on over to Georgie's. Tell her I sent you!
The Beloved Hope Chest
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