Sheila sat in a darkened room. The only light came from the television. Her chair faced it, but she wasn't watching, or even listening. Though the television was tuned to one of the court shows -- usually something she enjoyed, she just couldn't focus on the stories unfolding in front of her. She simply didn't care, and couldn't care about other people's problems.

Biting on the inside of her lip, she did her best to remain calm. Her grip on the arms of her chair tightened. The dark waves were crashing over her. A wall of darkness enveloped her mind. She couldn't find anything to hold onto.

Her inner voice was at once soothing, but it didn't have the confidence she needed. "I'm on medication. I've been stable for a very long time. Is it all beginning again? It crept up on me. I never saw it coming. Lord knows, I should be able to recognize the signs by now. Is it happening again? I had a funny thought; I almost smiled, so I can't be too depressed. Can I? What will happen in this next election? What if the unthinkable happens, and he is elected? What will happen to this world? Will everyone allow their inner bigot to come out? What if Social Security runs out of money? What if the terrorists bomb my city? Could I survive the apocalypse?"

A deep depression began to send tiny inroads to her soul. The downward spiral started to spin faster and faster. Anxiety joined the depression, and the crushing force of fear coupled with the dark clouds threatened to cripple her. Even food -- her self-soothing friend, couldn't stop the onslaught of negative thoughts.

The inner dialogue continued. "I've never felt THIS bad before. I'm in actual physical pain. Am I having a heart attack? What is this feeling of doom? Maybe I should go to a doctor and see if there is something wrong. I keep telling myself it's all in my head, but suppose it isn't? What if they tell me I have cancer? How much of the treatment would my insurance cover? Suppose I don't have enough money to pay for my treatment? I remember how much pain my mother was in as she died of cancer. Would I be able to tolerate all that pain? Will I turn into the monster she became in her last days? What if I lost it in front of people like she did? Would they laugh at me? Or worse, feel sorry for me? Worse still, what if they talked about me like they did about her. What could have happened in her life to make her so bitter?"

As her mind took off on wild tangents, she did her best to put an end to the negative thoughts. She tried to remember a time and place before the symptoms started to gather. Her memory failed her. All she could feel was the bleakness.

"Focus on the good in your life. Think about what you have." Her mind fumbled through the darkness that was taking over. Looking for something, anything, to cling to.

"I have a man who loves me." Or does he? There was that false start of an affair a few years back. He loved me so much, he pretended I didn't exist. It turned out to be such a cliche. She was a stewardess. He lied to me for weeks. If I hadn't caught him when she texted late at night, he wouldn't have told me. I only know because he got caught. How many other times did he stray? He was always working. It felt like he always chose jobs that kept him away from home for a week or more at a time. Men are fickle. They leave and never look back. Look at my father. Look at what my brother did to his wives. No, a man wasn't anything to cling to.

"I have a roof over my head, and food to eat." Sure, that's today. What if he did leave you? What if he lost his job? Do you think you could live on your disability check? How long do you think it would take before everything went away? If you can't afford a place to live -- what happens to your things? Your book collection? What happens to your photo albums? What will happen to your dogs? It doesn't seem like a home is anything to cling to. It's all just an illusion and could be gone at the drop of a hat.

"My kids love me." They do, huh? You have three sons and a daughter. How often do you hear from your sons? Two of them haven't even spoken to you in several years. They say you are too difficult to deal with. They blame you for all the wrongs in their lives. They refuse to acknowledge the crippling depressions. You aren't sick to them. You are merely a bad mother. Those thoughts are crushing; stop thinking about them.

Your youngest son, who used to be a great source of joy, has become a derelict. How could someone with so much talent end up homeless in their early 30s? Even worse, he's been selling drugs for the last year to eke out a meager existence. Thinking about him too much brings the crashing waves even closer.

"My dogs. I have two little dogs that would give their lives for me." Two little dogs that don't have a lifespan of more than 10 or fifteen years, and one of them has lived over half of that already. Could a dog that weighs only twelve pounds save your life? Probably not. No, the dogs were just a drain of money, and a waste of time. They steal the covers at night, and leave 'presents' quite often.

"I finally won my disability case this year." Yea, that's such a great thing. You now have an official label. You're officially mentally ill. There's a paper trail that proves it. A judge passed down a decision that you are unable to work due to mental deficiency.
By accepting the checks that are based on your time of working, you are viewed by many as a leach on society. Winning the case has opened the door for more people to know there is 'something wrong' with you. Can you imagine what people must think? Every time you submit a letter from Social Security as proof of income, you know they are trying to figure out what is wrong with you. Stop! Following that train of thought will only take you further down the dark path.

Every positive thought she could recall was countered with a negative declaration of war. She forced her mind to shut off. She pushed herself from the chair and went to the kitchen. Surely, her good friend, the refrigerator, could help her find some joy. She pulled open the door and peered in. She was looking for something, anything, to ease her mind and calm her down.

Nothing!! She couldn't find one thing among the groceries staring back at her. Why, oh why had she started eating better? Was there anything in the house that would fill the void? No, all the junk food had been cleared out. She didn't even buy any Halloween candy. If any Trick-or-Treaters showed up, she would give them a few pennies from the penny jar.

In disgust, she grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch, and burrowed into the deep cushions. She would need to find every tool she ever learned from therapy. With a pang of regret, she wondered if she needed to consider going into the hospital. Was she that bad? Was she seriously thinking about giving up?

Pulling the afghan tighter around her, she made herself relax and started to drift off. Sleep was a good escape, and sometimes an answer would come to her as she snoozed. Anxiety and depression eased away, and sleep could take her to a safer place.

About an hour later, she stretched her legs and arms. Deciding the couch was comfortable and safe, she located the TV remote. Pulling herself to a sitting position and scrunching into the corner of the couch, she prepared for a long siege of some serious television watching. Scanning the listings on the guide, she searched for something to divert her attention. She desperately needed a good story to hold her attention. After scrolling up and down the listings twice, she decided that despite having over 120 channels on cable, there wasn't anything to watch.

In her frustration, she became motionless. Choosing a show that wouldn't upset her, but didn't need her to pay too close attention, she put down the remote and let her mind drift. She wouldn't go to the hospital unless it became necessary. She could help herself if she only could remember how to find the key to let the light in.

A diagnosis of bipolar disease was difficult to live with. She knew her disease was resistant to medication, and even if she was stable on certain medications for a period, some adjustments were to be expected. The next appointment with a Psychiatric Nurse was over a month away. She decided she could find a way to hang on for five weeks. She had the tools in her possession. She simply needed to remember what to do.

Needing to relax was the primary issue to be addressed. What would relax her? She looked around the living room in search of a diversion. There were two bookcases full of books. She scanned the titles and couldn't find anything she thought would get her mind off things. Then she looked over at the shelves of DVDs. Her eyes settled on the Christmas titles, and she knew the shelf of titles would soothe her. Like old friends, the stories would make her laugh and cry tears of joy.

The inner dialogue started back up. "You can't watch Christmas movies. It's only October. That's against the rules! The rule of the house has always been you can't watch Christmas movies until the day after Thanksgiving." It was one of her man's rules. With a heavy sigh, she stopped looking at the Christmas movies. Maybe another kind of movie would do the trick.

After ten minutes of picking up a movie only to put it down for one reason or another, she returned to the couch. Mustering all her courage, and making an executive decision to help herself, she returned to the shelf of Christmas movies. All in all, she owned over 40 Christmas movies. That could be 80 hours of intensive therapy!

"The rules do not apply when it's an emergency," she decided and slipped an old favorite into the DVD player.

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Over the next few days, she watched Christmas movies. With her man out of town for his job, she didn't have to worry about any backlash. In between the movies, she made herself take care of business. She took a shower and washed her hair. The garbage got emptied. She checked the mail. She threw in a load of laundry. The dishwasher was run. Making sure the dogs were cared for, she checked their food and water on a regular basis. She cleaned up their pee pads, and thanked God she didn't have to walk them outside.

Making herself some dinner, she decided a more concrete plan was in order. One of her tools was making lists. Making lists and plans was a therapeutic thing to do.

She started with a list of the remaining Christmas movies. Deciding the order in which she would watch the rest, she left her very favorites for last. Next, she made a schedule to balance chores with movie watching. Creating extensive spreadsheets to compile the list, and then one for her daily schedule, helped to make her feel more in control.

Without realizing it, her breathing had become more even. She was humming as she printed the schedule and list. With 'A Holly Jolly Christmas,' on her lips, she taped the list above the shelf, and lay the schedule on the kitchen table.

Walking back to the living room, her humming continued as she put the next movie in. As the days passed, the movies became more spiritual, and more uplifting. Her humming turned into singing in the shower. She sang as she worked around the house, and she noticed the house was getting cleaner. The dogs wagged their tails as they followed her in her chores, and the time between movies grew. Careful to not overwhelm herself, she made herself watch each movie without her phone in hand, and her laptop was stowed in the spare bedroom.

Concentrating on each story, she felt her spirits lifting, and the dark cloud was held at bay.
Negative thoughts lurked on the edge of her consciences, and sometimes she needed to give herself positive affirmations. It became easier and easier to find the good in her life.

"I have a man who loves me. He isn't perfect and he's made mistakes. Who hasn't? He does come back whenever he leaves. He is coping with my illness in his own way."

"My daughter calls me every week. She takes time from her busy life just to talk to me. She gave me two beautiful grandchildren who call me Grammy."

"We're living in a brand-new apartment, and next year we are going to buy a house. There's healthy food in the refrigerator and cupboards. I can eat three meals a day, and I have a car to run to grocery store if I'm low on anything."

"My things are just that -- things. If I lose them, I will survive without them. I've lost things before."

With each Christmas movie, more and more positive thoughts came to her mind. In between movies, she accomplished more and more around the house. She was dressed every day by 7:30 am. Her new daily schedule was beginning to feel like a good routine, and she felt accomplished every time she checked something off.

Though she limited her computer time, and avoided reading the political garbage on Face book, she did have time for the occasional glimpse of what her extended family was doing. Her great nephews seemed to be getting ready for Halloween, and she was looking forward to pictures of them in costume.

She returned to the dwindling pile of Christmas movies. The remaining few were her absolute favorites, and they were all spiritual in nature. First up was 'Mr. Krueger's Christmas,' which highlighted the birth of Christ. Next was 'Miracle on 34th Street,' which showcased the miracles happening all around us. Finally, only 'It's a Wonderful Life,' was left on the list.

On impulse, Sheila took one of the many Face book quizzes. This one was an analysis of your profile to come up with your 'life quote.' Expectantly she waited for the results, and she had to smile at her quote. "When you wake up in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive."

Watching the trials and tribulations of George Bailey's life, she smiled through her tears as Clarence, the guardian angel, showed George just how special and important his role on earth was. As the movie ended, she checked off 'Watch a Christmas movie,' from her schedule.

It struck her then. The key to finding the light in the darkness wasn't through positive thinking or making lists. The key was to believe. Believe that He would help you find a way. Find your way out of the darkness and into His light.