Jesus Take the Wheel

    Depression.  What do you think of when you hear that word?  Do you shutter?  Do you think it’s repulsive?  Do you think it’s a choice?  A way of life?  There are many official definitions of the word depression.  Dictionary.com says it is “a condition of general emotional dejection and withdrawal; sadness greater and more prolonged than that warranted by any objective reason.”  On the less official UrbanDictionary.com someone says that depression is “a feeling which makes you think there is no hope, no way to survive, and no point in carrying on this charade you call a life. A feeling which is so emotionally pressing, you feel as if you're going to explode with tears.”  Both of these definitions are in fact true among depressed individuals, but it is much deeper than that.  It is so deep to the point that it can hardly be explained.  The feeling of hopelessness and sadness is enough to kill.  It begins to eat away at your soul;  sadness is not a “once in a while”, it’s an “all the time”.  In some cases, it can begin to eat away at your heart so much to the point where you simply can not handle it any longer;  it drives some people to take drastic measures into their own hands.  I used to be one of those people.  I didn’t think I could handle the pressure, the pain, the heartbreak.  I didn’t think I could handle life itself--being a young mother.  I couldn’t even handle the happiness.  However, in the end it’s not up to me to decide what goes on in my life--it’s all up to God.  On December 24, 2005, he sent me a sign.  And at that point I knew in my heart everything would turn out alright.  After all, God works in mysterious ways.
    I woke up at 7:30 AM to the sound of my daughter’s tears.  This is way too early for me, I thought to myself.  Sure, I should be used to waking up so early by now, but I clearly wasn’t.  I was still in the mind set that I got to sleep until noon every weekend.  I slowly opened my eyes only to find myself immediately closing them again.  The sun was too bright.  I rolled out of bed with a tight grimace attached to my face as I walked quickly down the hallway to my daughter’s bedroom.  I lifted her out of the crib with her fluffy, pink blanket, and sat myself by the window on the rocking chair that my mother has had since I was a baby.  I have to admit, that was my favorite place to be in the morning.  Despite the fact that I was usually miserable, that room was a safe haven for me.  The pale pink walls painted with butterflies, the perfectly white crib, the vintage light brown rocking chair.  The room screamed simplicity.  It was so perfect, so innocent, that it gave off a sense of happiness.  Being in this room while holding my daughter in my arms was the only thing that made my mind escape the torture that it’s been going through for quite a long time.  It took my mind to a world it had never seen before--one of sunshine and smiles.  After about an hour of sitting there peacefully, I began my daily routine.  I put my daughter back to sleep for a little bit before getting into the shower.  After I showered, I got dressed, did my makeup, and put some decent clothes on for the day so I didn’t look like a complete hobo.  Hey, I may have been depressed, but I definitely didn’t look like it.  An hour later, and my baby still wasn’t up.  I decided to just listen to music quietly and write in my journal.  My therapist recommended writing in a journal to release the stress and make me feel better.  I loved writing in my journal; it became my favorite thing to do.  Even though most of the time, it was quite fulfilling, sometimes it just made it harder to get healthy.  As I was writing the date into my journal, I realized something.  It was Christmas Eve.  Lovely.  I did not like the holidays.  All they consisted of was my family pretending like they cared when, really, all they wanted to do was pry into my personal life.  They were always asking me questions about my love life, my friends, and the depression, making it that much difficult for me to deal with on my own.  I was dreading having to go to my parents’ house this evening, but I knew my daughter would want to see her family, and I didn’t want to deprive her.  She deserved all the  happiness in the world.
    I was scrambling to find my car keys in my mess of an apartment.  I finally found them after searching for them for about 45 minutes.  They ended up being behind my sofa.  How did they get there?  To be honest, I have no idea.  I probably threw them while running in the door and that’s where they landed.  Needless to say, my apartment looked like it had been hit by Hurricane Katrina and that’s no lie.  Maybe it was a metaphor for my own life; my life was spiraling out of control, and I was too run down emotionally to pick myself back up.  I walked out the door of the apartment complex with my daughter in hand.  The snow was falling heavily onto the bare ground and it was less than twenty degrees outside.  Looking at the little one made me laugh.  I was a bit paranoid because it was her first snow;  she was wearing her cute outfit, a huge snowsuit, snow boots (Keep in mind, she can’t even walk yet.), ear muffs, gloves, a hat, and a scarf.  She probably thought I was absolutely insane, but better safe than sorry, right?  After buckling her into her car seat carefully, I made my way into the driver’s seat.  I sat there for a few minutes to let the car warm up, but I also mentally braced myself for the treacherous driving conditions that were soon to come.  It wouldn’t be long before the roads would be covered with ice, and I had a one hour drive.  Finally, I pulled out of my parking space and we were off.  

We had hit a little bit of traffic while on the highway, but other than that, it was pretty smooth.  I currently had about thirty minutes of driving left when I realized that my mother wanted me at her house at 6:00.  It was 6:15 and my mother gets extremely bitter when I am late for a previously planned event.  With no one on the road around me, I figured it was okay to increase my speed a bit.  I knew that it probably wasn’t the safest thing to do, but I did it anyway, not thinking of the consequences.  The music was a bit loud, and a million and one thoughts were running through mind mind faster than I could ever imagine.  After about five minutes, before I even knew what was happening, my car started spinning out of control.  I tried to move but my body was paralyzed.  I could barely see;  I just saw the world spinning around me.  I was in shock;  I didn’t know what was happening.  A few seconds later, which seemed like an eternity, the shock subsided and I regained my composure.  I managed to some how get us over to the shoulder quickly before anything terrible had happened.  I sat there for a minute and just stared off into the distance--the snow still falling onto the barren trees.  I immediately remembered that my daughter was in the car and whipped my head around only to see that she was sound asleep.  Thank God for that peaceful baby, or I would have been a much bigger mess than I already was.  What was I thinking?  I could have hurt the both of us.  If anything happened, I would have never forgiven myself.  How did I let myself get to this point?  Why did bad things always have to happen to me?  I sobbed in the front seat for about twenty minutes, not caring at this point how late I would be.    The tears were rolling quickly down my tanned face and I was crying so hard that I could hardly stop to catch a breath.  I don’t know what came over me, but ten minutes later, I started praying.  I had never been extremely religious and I had definitely never prayed by my own free will.  I prayed for another 20 minutes, my eyes glued shut the entire time.  I told God that I was sorry I had never spoken to him before.  I told God that I needed him, that I couldn’t do it alone.  I thanked God for saving my little girl and me.  I thanked God for everything possible.  After speaking with God, my mood was uplifted.  It was like the depression lifted into the air and disappeared from my body.  Despite the incident that could have been a tragedy, I was content.  The last thing I did before I took off again was pray to God one more time.  This time, I asked him to get me to my parents’ house safely...and I did.

    I got out of the car and grabbed my daughter out of her car seat.  I immediately hugged her tightly never wanting to let go.  I finally built up enough courage to walk up to the giant, ornate front door.  When my mother opened up the front door, she greeted me with the biggest hug I have ever been given.  What is going on? Did someone die?  “Honey, where were you?!  You weren’t answering your phone!  Did something happen?!”
    “No, everything is fine.  I was just running late as usual.  My phone is on silent, ” I lied plastering a huge smile on my face.  

For once in my life, though, that smile was not fake. When I walked into the dining room, I was met with the mouth watering scent of delicious food.  It has been a long day, and I couldn’t wait to just sit down and relax.  Of course, though, as soon as I sat down at the table with my family, I was met with the ridiculous questions.  This time, on the other hand, it was different;  I actually answered their questions with no attitude at all.  When I mentioned that I was in fact happy with my life at the moment, everyone looked at me with wide eyes.  They had truly looked like they had seen a ghost.  “What happened to you? Who are you?”

    I replied calmly with a smile on my face, “I’m finally myself.  It’s all in God’s hands now.”
   

Author's Note

It's a little rough, I have to revise a bit and it got messed up when I copied and pasted it, but I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think!

Reviews

[Kaylor Mason]

I remember days like this. I prayed these prayers a lot, and Jesus does take the wheel when we can't drive anymore--and somehow when he does, the gas pedal gets rammed to the floor. Sometimes you even get a head-on collision against a good night's rest, and you wake up in the sunshine.
Then the car gets stuck in neutral . . . and it's time for a tune-up