Gifts for Mom, Grandparents, Besties and YOU🎄 ➔

A cloud hangs over her. A storm constantly rumbles in the distance. Rain, lightning, and thunder threaten every moment. Every day she is wrapped in the cloud of depression, the storm of anxiety. 

Some days, it’s a gentle rain, the sadness soaking slowly into her bones. She walks through life soaked, weighed down by the heaviness of despair. 

Other days it’s a mist, maybe a fog. Though it doesn’t feel as heavy, it clouds her judgment. The negativity hangs around her. It skews everything within her sight. Happy moments can’t be seen or felt clearly because the tiny droplets distort her view. She only sees the hard—anything good has been blurred. 

RELATED: Sometimes Depression Looks Like Dirty Dishes in the Sink

At times, the storm rages with lightning flashes of frightening thoughts. All that could go wrong illuminated by the bright light. Loud roars of thunder shake her soul—all the what-ifs, and fears, and doubts ringing so loudly she can’t hear anything else. 

She walks through life with this cloud around her. It blocks any hint of sunshine.

She knows those around her feel its warmth, but she’s stuck beneath her cloud—cold, wet, heavy, and defeated. 

Those around her see the cloud and fear the storm. Tiny wisps of the cloud drift toward anyone who gets too close. The negativity threatens to block their own sunshine. It’s hard to be near her for fear of being sucked into the cloud, swept away by the storm. 

They want to help, to support her, to save her. But the lightning is too bright and the thunder too loud for them to reach her—their voices of love and reason lost in the sound of the storm. And so they walk away, avoiding the cloud and storm in an attempt to keep themselves dry and safe. They leave her behind. Alone. Stuck inside the cloud to withstand the storm on her own. 

She longs to step out from under its power. But the cloud and energy of the storm are too strong. It traps her, consumes her. 

RELATED: My Name is Anxiety and I Want All of You

In a strange way, it feels safe. It’s all she knows now. And any attempt to step out from under it and into the sunlight feels so uncomfortable and strange. In order to pull herself from its force, she must reveal what it’s been hiding. She must confront the feelings the cloud and storm pour out day after day. The work is so hard and her bodyalready bearing the heavy weight of being soaked to the core and fearful of the thunder and lightning—simply doesn’t have the strength to step out of its atmosphere. 

And so she sits beneath it. Walks beneath it. Lives beneath. 

Depression hangs over her like a dark cloud while the storm of anxiety, with its flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder, penetrates each moment of her life. It’s not really living anymore. But she exists within it. 

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available for pre-order now!

Pre-Order Now

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

“I’m Not That Kind of Girl”—But Anxiety Didn’t Care

In: Motherhood, Teen, Tween
Crying teen girl

I remember the day you were born. The nurses were amazed by the volume and color of your lips; they had never seen such a beautiful baby, they gushed. From that moment, everyone cooed, “She’s so beautiful; she has such bright eyes; she is such a good baby!” The accolades for you did not stop even as you grew and started school. So smart, such a hard worker, such a bright future. You flourished despite your food intolerances and bouts of anxiety. My goals were for you to be kind and bully-free. I thought we had succeeded; then you turned...

Keep Reading

Depression Will Always Be Part of My Story

In: Living
Mother and adult daughter at theater, color photo

A smiling photo. Enjoying an evening with my daughter at the theatre. Earlier we had gone shopping and enjoyed a drink at our hotel bar before heading to the show. Happy. Blessed. Smiling. What is behind my smile? Depression. Anxiety. Grief. Fear. Crushing emotions. My head tells me I matter. That my story isn’t over. That I would be missed. RELATED: We’re All a Little Broken, Some Just Hide it Well But my heart says otherwise. It tells me I am a failure. I am alone. I don’t belong. Wondering why I try, why I fight so hard to stay...

Keep Reading

“I Know How Hard She Fought.” Postpartum Depression Claimed Her Life—But Not Her Legacy

In: Baby, Grief, Motherhood
Alexis Joy D'Achille Center For Perinatal Health www.herviewfromhome.com

Editor’s note: The following contains references to suicide. “It was without a doubt love at first sight.” It’s one of the first things Steven D’Achille said when asked about his wife, Alexis. At a mutual friend’s party at a private residence in South Beach, in what he described as a “swanky” scene, Alexis showed up around midnight. According to Steven, everyone was already dressed up and mingling, but Alexis simply threw her bag in a room and joined the party without putting on extra makeup, or changing into a dress to match the rest of the party’s attire. “She was...

Keep Reading