Depression 16: Have You Still Been Praying?

I returned to my home in Winnipeg in late fall of 2019. I was still on sick leave from work, so I had time to rest, attend a support group and see my new counsellor weekly, and meet with friends.

One friend asked a question that led to some new insight into my experience with depression. I was telling her about struggling with depression and she asked, “Have you still been singing?” Huh. No, I hadn’t been singing. I hadn’t decided not to sing, and I hadn’t noticed that I’d stopped. This activity that was a big part of my life, was meaningful to me, and brought me joy and comfort was snuffed out by depression without me even realizing it. I had known that a symptom of depression was loss of interest in things you used to enjoy, but I still hadn’t registered that I wasn’t singing anymore until this friend asked.

Similarly, a mentor of mine asked if I was still praying, and I had the same reaction. Huh. No, I hadn’t been praying. I hadn’t decided that I wasn’t going to pray anymore, and I hadn’t noticed that I’d stopped. I hadn’t turned away from God. I wasn’t questioning His goodness. I wasn't lamenting to Him, asking why I was going through this, or praying for comfort or healing. I just wasn’t praying anything.

Actually, perhaps I should say I wasn’t praying with words. I was still attending church, and I would kneel through most of the service. Before I was struggling so much, I would kneel at the designated times, stand at the designated times, and sit in the pew the rest of the time. Now, my heart and my body were too heavy to stand or even to sit up. I knelt so I could have the pew in front of me to lean my weary body on and, even though I didn’t think of it in this way at the time, to lean my weary heart on too. I realize now that kneeling was a physical way of bringing my suffering to God, of presenting it with a change of posture when my heart and mind couldn’t speak.

In this way, I didn’t pray with words, but I prayed with my body. I continued to prioritize going to church. Many times I was so tired and heavy that I had to drag myself there; it wasn’t easy getting out of bed for it. But I went and I knelt. The people around me prayed, and I listened. I brought myself before God. Even if my pain was strong and I didn’t feel better, I didn’t feel comforted, or I didn’t feel a strong sense of connection with God, I was there in a space of worship. Furthermore, I believe God was there where I was too, in my heaviness without words, in my kneeling, in my act of attending worship. Thank you, God.

Kristen