When is the last time you fell down? Like really fell down with a thud, not a ‘Oh-I-lost my footing kinda tripped fall’? The last time I fell down literally was a random Saturday last year as I walked down to the old wing basement at City mall. It has this textured sort of zebra patterned patches to help with grip. This day, in my pretty, but useless soled shoes, I sauntered down with Ky’s hand in mine. Peter and the other girlies were ahead, and then all of a sudden I fell. Or should I say it felt like slow motion fainting backwards. Except there was a thud, my spine had a minor ‘WHAT JUST HAPPENED’ moment. Even my hair lost its bounce, and matted. I got up with all the decorum I could master, and Ky was so worried, asking if I was okay. I said yes, and hoped that my spine would be fine. Needless to say I just stopped parking in that basement. Anytime that Peter does and we have to walk down that ramp, he always reminds me to walk on the greys.
I see how often Baby K falls, and think to myself there is a resilience you have at 2 years old. Where you cry while already standing. The older you get less falls are expected. Before this fall, my last major fall was back in 2009. Thika road was still under construction and it was known for its red soil. So this one day, I get off a matatu, and walk towards the campus van, and just before I made it, I fell in the red soil. My nice light coloured jeans and white top, now looked like they had been painted reddish brown, such a bold shade, and I was shook. But I did what you always do when you fall, get up, dust yourself and pretend everything is okay and move on as quickly as possible. And wait to see if there are any major aches after that. And there is always this resolve to walk more carefully, to avoid certain basements, to walk on the greys, to wear better shoes, to pray, especially against murphy’s law.
To be honest my most recent fall was in 2023. It wasn’t the typical basement head flat, or red soil kind of fall. It was a fall, where I couldn’t shake it off. Where I couldn’t quite bounce back. Where I needed to sit in it and know that adults too fall. And it is okay. Where the resilience of a 2 year old is admirable but not exactly applicable. Where the aches, the emotions and the impact need to be named and felt. The truth is that I had it coming. Really it was like walking on a floor that’s being washed, or stepping on a paper while running. It was not a matter of ‘if’, but matter of ‘when’. And I had mastered the art of playing cat and mouse.
I had known that I was struggling a bit more than most for sometime. Also getting a degree in Psychology did give me a slightly higher level of self awareness. But you know that saying about how sometimes professionals cannot treat themselves. Well, I tried all that I knew until it got too big for me. I took an online test to confirm what I already knew, and then followed up with my local Psychiatrist. I remember being asked if I was sure what I needed was a Psychologist instead, and I said no. After 3 days, I finally saw the Doctor, and my first diagnosis was Major Depressive Disorder (MDD). Let’s deal with one diagnosis at a time. The rest will unfold.
I was scared and relieved at the same time. I felt like courage the cowardly dog. I took a picture to remind me of what broken but courageous looked like. I committed to at least a 6 month plan. It seemed so rosy back then. One little detail that I struggled with was having to take antidepressants. The level we were starting at needed me to commit to therapy and medication. Whoosh, but at this point, I needed help. So in that little room, we talked about pros and cons of different drugs. We talked about my pre-existing fears. Then we finally settled on one, and so the journey begun. I remembered watching my dad take his antidepressants as I grew up and it seemed familiar. But a path I was hoping that I would evade.
‘Am I doing the right thing?’ is a question I kept asking myself. ‘Is this a lack of faith? Have I not prayed enough? Isn’t deliverance supposed to shake off the lows too? Does the brain actually get sick?’ A lot of these questions will be answered as I seek treatment. I’ve figured that two or more things can coexist or be parallel. And it is okay to have faith and act concurrently.
This is the part that no one tells you about is, google will scare you. Reading all the side-effects is like choosing the lesser but necessary evil. It is like playing inky-pinky-ponky, because there is no one size fits all for everyone. It is like a trial and error journey. And that sounds so exciting (not) if you are a newbie at all this. I settled on one and the side effects made me feel so, for lack of a better word, weird. My mouth was dry, like i literally had little saliva. I found out that coffee + antidepressants are a bad idea, because I was buzzing like an energizer bunny. I felt lighter, but the best part is that I started seeing colour. And it was so beautiful. It felt like life was pouring in to my atmosphere again. I could feel warmth again, like emotional warmth. It felt like feeling the summer rays after a long grey and cold winter.
Eventually, I got used to it. It became a regular part of my morning routine. A few weeks down the line, life intensified and my sleep disappeared. Now, please note all of my life I have lived by the verse that God gives sleep to those that He loves. This lack of sleep was new, it was hard. It was not my idea of love. It was hard. My clarity, my memory card, my joy all seemed to be running on red. I am a big believer in the restorative power of sleep, but my sleep had lost its power and I was walking on the edge of a cliff.
So Hello 2023, the year that the Lord has made and I am excited about it. Except my excitement feels like no joy. It feels heavy. It needs a weekend of sleep and sunshine. During one of the visits, the doctor said perhaps we should consider an admission. But I hid behind having a family that needed me. I see you looking at me funny 🙂
Eventually the pressure was too much. The lack of sleep felt like a heavy burden plus it was spilling over to everything. I brought myself in for admission because it felt too much. Too big and I was so tired, physically and emotionally too. And our village far and wide loved on our family. The girls were so well taken care of.
The body is horrible at keeping secrets. I feel like I should say that again, just because you do not deal, doesn’t mean that you’ve healed. So in this season, I did an Adverse Childhood Experiences test, and my score was higher than most. And all of that trauma, needed to go. So I fell. My admission to sleep , ended up being space to grieve. I cried until my heart hurt. I journaled until my arm ached, I really should strive for ambidexterity. I spoke until my voice literally went. Once I started writing the unspeakable, my literal voice disappeared. No cold, no viral infection but the weight of trauma. My blood pressure was through the roof, every time the machine was cuffed on my bicep I held my breath. Sometimes as I revisited trauma I could literally feel my blood pressure rise, and the palpitations. Oh those were scary. My back was in knots, it felt as though I had been carrying bags of stones up many hills. My lower back felt as though labour was coming. My chest was tight because every emotion felt palpable. My feet and hands, well they quivered like leaves in the autumn.
What I thought would be a 3 day sleep retreat and then I could go back home, ended up being a two week soul searching expedition. After how long does it stop being considered a fall, and a full blown need to rest and unpack?
There are many lessons from the ground. There is a way rock bottom gives perspective. There is a way it simplifies things. There is a way that it forces you to truly see, hear and feel yourself. There is a way that running is not an option. There is also a way, that if you allow it, you are showered in love. Covered with care, and embraced by a peace that cannot be explained. And rock bottom is also a kind reminder that falling is not failing.
So maybe falling wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Maybe falling is what I needed, because standing, walking, running and crawling were taking their toll on my body.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
~Isaiah 40:30
This text reminded me that I am not odd, or alone, that there are other youth or should I say young people who have grown tired and weary. Many others on the verge of a stumble err fall. So this falling this not just toddler experience, but it does knock the wind out of your lungs when you are older. There is a promise of hope though:
‘but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.’
I am still yet to walk and not be faint, but my word for this year is SOAR, and this is part of it all coming together.
Little did I know that I would fall again in a week. More on that in the next post.
Thank you for reading <3. If you feel that this story connected with you. Let me know.
Bibi2Be 