I Didn’t Technically Lie to the Pastor’s Wife

Here’s the thing: I might be a little depressed. A little.


I hate admitting I’m depressed, because then everyone freaks out and goes on high alert and treats me like some infant invalid. But I think I might be a little depressed. I finally admitted it to myself a few days ago when my husband suggested we rake leaves together. He definitely didn’t need the help raking leaves…he just knew he wasn’t going to get me to go for a walk, and he said some fresh air would be good for me.

Then I said, “Ugh. I don’t want to rake leaves. There are so many STEPS to raking leaves!”

“Steps?” He gave a confused glance to my FitBit.

I sighed. “Not those kind of steps. Think about it. In order to rake leaves, I would have to…step 1: get out of bed. Step 2: walk over to my closet and pick a sweater, because it’s cold. Step 3: Find some gloves. Who on earth knows where I might find gloves? Step 4: Walk downstairs. Step 5: Put on shoes. Step 6: Go outside and actually do raking of said leaves. There are so many steps.”

He smiled a strained smile and said, “Okay, yes, that’s a lot of steps. But I’ll be there with you for all of them! So….step one. How about you get out of bed?”

So I did. And I did all of the steps. And we raked leaves. But it shouldn’t have felt as monumental as our (ginormous) pile of leaves to be able to do those things.

I was supposed to lead a Bible study on Saturday, but I texted the pastor’s wife and asked if she could cover me because I “haven’t been feeling well.” WHICH WAS TOTALLY TRUE. Except I wasn’t puking or anything, so I felt really shady about bailing. I told my husband as much, and he said, “Aren’t we always saying that people need to regard mental illnesses as real illnesses? Then you need to regard it as a real illness too. If you’re not feeling well mentally, you’re not feeling well. It wasn’t lying.”

So I think it wasn’t lying.


But then I realized maybe I haven’t been doing so well, because one of the ladies in the church group was a little concerned about me. I didn’t show up to church last week, or our committee meeting on Tuesday, and then I bailed on the Bible study. She asked if I was okay.

Sure. Of course. I’m fine. Even though I missed all of those because I was in bed…

As I said, I think I might be a little depressed.

My focus is super off… I’m still showing up to work, but I’m making DUMB mistakes like forgetting about quizzes or completely blanking on things I should know. The other day I was reading answers to something and I read the answers to numbers 16…17…18… and then started back at 13. My students were all confused and asked why I just skipped back five problems. Oh, did I? I had no idea.


So…..what do I do now? Wait for this to be over? It’s been about two weeks. It’s a lot of crying and sleeping. If I call my doctor she’ll make me take more or different meds. I HATE MEDS. And this will probably go away soon. As a matter of fact, I feel better today. Maybe I won’t take a nap when I get home.


People who have been here before – holla at me. What do I do?

cat help

18 thoughts on “I Didn’t Technically Lie to the Pastor’s Wife

  1. I have no magical wisdom to tell you other than take take a deep breath, hunker down, and wade through it. That, and call your doctor. If the depression is screwing with you enough to affect work, probably should do something about it….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I also think you need to talk to your doctor. 😦 but then I also think you should talk to your pastor and his wife about it because they (more than most) would likely be very supportive and want to help.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I think you should talk to your doctor because it’s been going on for awhile.
    I also think you should tell the pastor and his wife the truth because they (more than most) would get it and want to love and support you through it in any way that they can. Not being honest about it, might be making you feel worse.


  4. Let your doctor know, and have a really honest conversation about your concerns about increasing the medication. Sometimes it’s situational and you need time to push through, and that’s great. But sometimes it just gets worse and it doesn’t hurt anything for your doc to know where you are right now so you can come up with a plan B together if plan A (keep trying situationally) doesn’t change anything in X timeframe. This is a team effort, but you’re the driver, your doc is the pit crew. You have the final say what is done with your car (body) and how it drives (medicates), but your crew will be very honest about what they need you to consider to make the best and safest decisions for yourself.
    Trust yourself, and trust your husband. And hopefully you can trust your doctor to try to help more than hurt.
    You’ve got this

    Liked by 1 person

  5. When I was reading the “steps to raking leaves” part of your post I was laughing. Not rolling on the floor, but loud enough for my wife to stick her head in the door and ask me what was so funny. I read the bit to her and she said “That sounds like something you might say”, then we both laughed a little more. There. I have confessed and I think the first thing you should do is forgive me and my darling wife for laughing at something you clearly do not see as laughable. HAVEN’T WE SUFFERED ENOUGH?
    Well, that’s enough of that. I have been in this place before, recently in fact. There was even yard work. I wouldn’t lie about in bed all day, just until about 11:30, then take up the slack with a few naps so I could be fresh for the evening’s triple header: Bitching about meaningless crap I read on the internet, forlorn sighing and the perennial fan favorite thousand yard stare. You don’t want to miss that!
    OK, what to do? Now that we are friends again it’s time to move forward. I think the next thing is to move forward to the location of your husband and shower him with as much affection as he is willing to accept. From your writing I get the impression he’s a cool guy. Not just cool, he’s cool and compassionate and cool and understanding and cool and steady and cool, so dress warm.
    Really though, I know how hard it is to crank up some real honest love with joy in it when you’re depressed. It’s like opening your lunchbox to find a picture of a bologna sandwich. You can identify it but the resemblance ends there.
    Now I’m no doctor but I saw one on TV once so I know that as you pass through this cycle of depression (you will) that your bologna sandwich will become more and more actualized. Three dimensional now, it reveals itself to the cosmos; liberated and utterly delicious, a tiny overflowing drop of mustard adorning its crust like a badge of honor, its crystalline perfection a fearless challenge to the universe: I AM HERE AND YOU CAN EAT ME!
    Man, I’m hungry. I don’t know if any of this helped you but it sure was fun to write. I truly am sorry for your troubles and I really do understand. I read your stuff all the time so we can certainly continue this dialogue if you like. Hang on tight, it’s going to be OK.

    Liked by 1 person

    • KENNNNYYYYYYYY. Thank you. I needed that. I’m glad you found my post funny. Your comment made me want to laugh and cry, and it’s exactly what I needed. So thanks.

      Also, reading fast, I first read “shower him with as much affection as he is willing to accept” as “shower with him as much as he is willing to accept.” I was like, “whoa dang, kennynines. Gettin personal up in here. Cure for depression? CO-ED SHOWERS. LOTS OF THEM.” lolllllll. I’m sure my husband would thank you for the sage advice. 😉

      The bologna example was good too. Also made me hungry, so good thing I’ve got trail mix here with me.

      Thanks for the support – seriously. I appreciate it.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you, Hazel, for your reply. One of the biggest problems I face during times like this is a torrent of negative self-talk. Your kind words and the feeling that something I said helped you gave me a badly needed emotional boost.
        I know how it is when your thoughts and moods are bouncing around like a basketball. I wonder who I am going to hurt or anger or wear out and it fills my heart with fear that this time I will really screw up my life. Being able to discuss this as people with a “Common interest” keeps me thinking and, more importantly, thinking about more than just my own problems. It’s like balm for my soul and you, Hazel, are DA BALM! (Nyuk nyuk nyuk).
        Off to bed with me. Chin up and I’ll type at you later.


  6. I wish I had words of wisdom to say, but I agree with all the above…. sending positive thoughts your way. My husband says the closest he can explain to me is like being in a well-lit tunnel. You know you are in a tunnel, but there is enough light that you don’t care. You don’t miss the sun, because you have light. But as the tunnel goes down, then levels out, then starts climbing again, you catch snatches of sunlight and realize what you are missing. You can stay in the tunnel, or make your way to the sun. Along the way are people with outstretched hands to help, pull, or lead. Or you can just take your time to climb on your own, but that takes much longer…. As long as you keep climbing!!!!!!!


  7. Everyone’s already said it, but I agree. Talk to your doctor. Explain your issues with meds so they can work out the best treatment for you (which might not be meds, or it might be meds you don’t hate so much).

    You’re super right about the steps. Steps suck, and there’s so many involved in everything. When I’m not doing so well, I try to focus on one step at a time. I don’t beat myself up for how long each one takes. When I’m doing really badly, I try to do one thing a day. Just one. Then I congratulate myself for doing that one thing. When it feels possible, I move onto two things a day.


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