empty pitcher

While I have always struggled with Depression, this winter has added upon me a heaping dose of Anxiety.  This fall and winter have been some of the busiest seasons I have known personally in quite a while. I have had more responsibilities added to my plate.  Home, work, personal life, church, health, and relationships have been commandeering my attention and efforts.  By and large, I have loved it.  I love having a community that needs me and am so grateful that my business is growing steadily enough that it keeps me on my toes and frequenting the local post office.  But I'm burning out.  And not just because I have a lot on my plate.

Somewhere along the way my Depression met my work load and had an Anxiety baby.  I stopped reacting to things normally.  Panic reigned supreme, mainly in my head and in my relationship with Mr. F.  Nothing was working. Nothing was good enough.  I wasn't good enough.  I wasn't able to do enough, help enough, cook enough, stay healthy enough, clean enough, sell enough.  I was worrying myself ragged.  Sleep was sporadic and unwelcome, as I had dreams about meetings and events from my waking life that would worry me even more when unconscious.  Irascible and inconsolable, Mr. F finally looked at me and said, "Enough is enough."  

He talked me off of the metaphorical ledge and I hope he knows how much his patience and loving support has meant to me through this.  He told me repeatedly that I was enough, that I was doing enough, and that I was just fine.  He encouraged me to take a step back, relinquish a few projects, which was harder than I'd like to admit, and process.

A few years ago in a Sunday School class, someone made the poignant comment, "You can't pour from an empty pitcher."  Those words have rung loud and clear with me as Mr. F's words cleared a path through my Depression-addled mind.  Of course I didn't feel like I was doing things properly!  I had been doing everything on empty!  I hadn't allow myself to recharge, regroup.  I had not been taking care of myself in the midst of taking care of everything else.

I would love to say everything is hunky dory now.  It's not, but I'm stronger enough now to realize that.  Mr. F is helping me a lot, more than I admit.  We've begun discussing therapy to give me the proper tools to combat the anxiety demon, a tool to help me fill my pitcher up again.

I've been pondering also how many of you might be experiencing something similar; allowing everything else to take your energy and attention until you are running on fumes.  Available in the shop now is this handlettered watercolor print of the quote from my Sunday School class many moon ago.  "You can't pour from an empty pitcher."  It's okay to say no every so often, to step back and put your needs first.  Fill your own pitcher and then you can fill everyone else's, too.