Sunshine and Rain

It takes both the sun and the rain to make a rainbow.

-author unknown.



I’m going to discuss a subject that now the clouds have lifting.Writing is my version of therapy. Words {lots of them} hold me by the hand as I work through a tangle of feelings and thoughts. These words have been written and rewritten over many days and still seem jumbled. It took months to realize the subject I was writing about. Then my pride got in the way and I’d delay hitting the publish button. After all, it’s pretty hard to give the impression of a perfectly happy life when discussing clinical depression.My dreary days and breakdowns – silly and serious – they have been my reality. I’m still one foot in, another out. But I have been exposed, my flaws so carefully hidden, revealed. Growth often hurts, but makes us stronger.


I want to see the good in thing. The big and little pieces that come together to make simple days extraordinary.But during the last few years I’ve felt just down right....well, barely breathing.

What is my problem? Is it the winter weather? Do I need to order one of those special lights?

Where did I go wrong? Wasn’t this what I wanted? I’d carefully plotted things out for my family. Single. Independent .I can to this ..who needs a Husband. I can be super mom. And yet this “mother going through the motions” was not a part of the plan.


I’m still not sure why I have been blindsided by this. One would assume that the majority of major depression I’ve experienced in my life occurred after My children were born.Was I intentionally going through the motions. It’s called survival. My “plan” was to slowly process my emotions while “doing,” rather than being hit by a Mack truck all at once. Ah, to be so naive.

I often walk the line wondering what is “too much” to share. This is the place where I come to honestly share the beautiful moments of life.. Yet I’ve come to the conclusion that if I don't include this and the other not so shiny parts, I would be leaving out details that good or bad, have shaped and molded me into who I am today. What I am writing about today has to do with me – not my childrenThis my story. A broken girl, living in a broken world trying to muddle her way through some deep “stuff” while still believing that in brokenness, there is hope.

So here it goes…

I found myself in over my head, fighting battles I though I had long since won. They blinded me like the sun and for some reason at the most unexpected times, I found myself staring at the fiery star.


But I did. I would get lost into my kids,School,chores,run errands , run a household,Play make shift support systems to countless strangers I called "friends", wipe noses, help little feet into pajamas, brush teeth, avoid going on “dates”.

Maybe I can do this.

Wait, I am doing this. We were going to be OK.

Then came the anger. I questioned my everything. Why did Courtney end up the way she had? Why did all my afforts and love magically seem to disappear and not matter anymore? Why was my family they way they where? and why was I sooo mad. Then sad. Lost somewhere in the middle.


Followed by the “what-ifs.” What if I never had kids.... What if i had a differnt parents?

I truly thought I had “dealt” with those feelings and was upset for dredging them up. I discovered that I need to be patient with myself. That with each milestone life brings, these feelings will probably crop up.

This isn’t a reflection of my feelings for children. I would never change a single thing that makes them who they are. It’s an act of letting go. Letting go of the script *I* had written for my life and embracing the one that was written for me, by the One who knows me. I’m still loosening my grip.

Then came the exhaustion. It was like nothing I had experienced. Round and round I went, making myself dizzy.

I don’t think I’m doing this whole mom thing right. I’ve needed so much help. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

The real me doesn’t think like this. I’m confident. I don’t question my parenting, or the decisions I’ve made for my children. I know I can do this.

I used took so many pictures of my kids. Proof – they were happy. That while I was barely keeping my head above water, they were blissfully unaware. That life went on, and it was good.

I realized this was more than just “one bad day after another” when I stopped taking their pictures. No more laughter in our house is a red flag that something is wrong.

The storm has let up, maybe even passed. I question why it stayed so long. Perhaps I was walking along with it, caught up in my own rain?

I see glimmers of truth and hope. I could continue to believe the dark reasoning that it’s up to me to figure this out on my own. Or I can trust that I was made to be loved and through grace and mercy I will once again see that I am.I am however stubborn.


The sun was shining and I went walking with Gabriel. It felt good to stretch my legs and breathe in the fresh air. I intend to do that more often.

I noticed changes in me and my thought processes once I found myself oen day dancing while making lunch for Gabriel. Gabe giggled and clapped at the sight of his silly mommy. I used to always make up dances for my favorite audience. Somewhere along the way I stopped. Today we danced.

I pulled out my camera out of the cubboard collecting dust and started to take pictures again..............

In my Yesterday it rained. Today is sunny. Tomorrow looks even brighter.


I think it time I start to live again and breathe.