Monday Blues

Monday Morning and dealing with the blues

I can look at every day as Saturday, or I can look at every day as Monday. It hit me last week on Friday that it had been a Monday Blue type of day, and it had been for a few days in a row, and I didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. I couldn’t seem to snap out of it. I read my Bible, I recorded some thoughts in my journal, and I prayed, but I was strangling, choking and unable to be joyful. It doesn’t get any bluer than that. I sat around most of Saturday without any drive.

Rhonda and I went to church on Sunday. I had several people I had to touch base with, but other than that, I retreated. The message was great, and I wedged it into a slot of my brain, trying to apply it to my hopelessness. Hopeless I remained. I didn’t bother to mention anything to those in Sunday school who could have prayed for me. I didn’t say much of anything.

We came home and I retreated to the basement to ruminate. I couldn’t muster much. I called my mom and checked in with her for the week. We talked about the upcoming weddings and mostly about how she’ll get here and where we’ll all stay and stuff. I tried to verbalize my internal struggle to Rhonda later, but I couldn’t really explain it. I knew that I needed to be connected to the power source of the Holy Spirit. I knew I needed to keep my focus on God and not others or my circumstances. I still felt like there was no way out. It seemed like everything I tried ended in futility. There was no point in attempting. Everything was unsolvable. I had tasks upon tasks that had to be completed, but I had no idea where to jump in to start. It was hopeless.

I started to read a book about a missionary lady who had finished nursing school and had gotten married. She was so happy. On the rainy fifth night of her honeymoon, her husband went out to use the restrooms in their campground. He never returned, and later his body was found in the water where he had washed over the bridge. Of course she was devastated. She began grieving and blaming God. She turned away from church, her family and any chance of accepting anything from God again. Over a period of time and through the prayers of her family, she began to heal. God touched her in a meaningful way, and she accepted what He had for her to accomplish. After she was accepted into missionary service and was assigned to India, she had a successful run by throwing herself into her work there. She described herself as a workaholic. She spread herself so thin that she became distressed, depressed and completely incapacitated. She had to return to the United States to be treated. At this part of the book, I began to “snap” out of it. She had described my symptoms. She had been living like I felt. He brother invited her to visit, and he gave her a copy of Happiness is a Choice by Minirth and Meyer. They explained how depression can occur in people who are busy helping others. It happens to doctors, social service people among others.

It seemed like I had been trying to hold it all together for my family. My dad passed away in 2007, and I had to be strong for everyone during that process. Rhonda’s mom just passed away in March 2009, and we had to be strong for everyone then too. I realized that perhaps these events, along with the rest of the stuff life throws my way, had stacked up. I believe Rhonda was praying for me, and I know Jesus and the Holy Spirit are always praying for me. So my time in the Word, and my calling out to Him brought me around. I know what’s true. It’s true I’m a child of God. And it’s true He loves me. I remembered I have to choose what to believe, and it’s best to choose the truth. I choose joy, and I choose to keep my focus on God. Each morning can be the bluest Monday or a bright Saturday depending on my choice. I plan to start each day with a Good morning God. It’s another great day.