Recently I've been talking with lots of people about depression and anxiety, something that I've battled with and struggled with for as long as I can remember. As a Christian, when we have a doctor tell us we're depressed or suffer from an anxiety disorder, we panic. I LOVE JESUS, I AM SINNER IF I'M DEPRESSED OR ANXIOUS.I AM A HORRIBLE CHRISTIAN. I felt that way for a long, long time. I didn't tell a soul that I even suffered from anxiety, even though it caused me to miss school, work, become homeschooled, and it of course affected my relationships, friendships and everyday life. I was ashamed of who I was, and hid that part of my life fiercely. This summer, it all reached a head and by fall I opened up on the blog and shared my story. I'm re-sharing it again tonight, because I found comfort in the truths God laid on my heart October in my current situation right now, and I hope you can as well.
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I have a really tough time opening up to people, I've always journaled, written and expressed myself with pen and paper better then I ever could do in conversation. Sometimes the world sort of closes in on me and my mind is going a million miles an hour and I just grab a piece of paper, my computer, open up the notes on my phone and write. If you ask me to talk to you about an issue and I have to verbalize I tend to to freak, jumbling my words and straying from my original line of thinking. With writing I am clear and concise, I can walk away knowing that I have expressed myself down to the last line, everything inside of me neatly written, my soul empty, my thoughts arranged.
Which is sort of why I blog, because I feel like I have so much to say and share, not because I'm incredibly wise (I'm not), not because I feel like I even have anything worth sharing (I don't, I'm quite un-interesting as far as humans go), but because it's a safe place for me. If I wanted for someone to see the REAL me, I would point them to my writing. Internally I think, process and even relate to others in terms of sentence structures, letters and words. I am constantly searching for synonyms, metaphors or ways to express myself with comparisons while I'm doing busy work, creating stories while I drive. In my own little word I am a type writer constantly moving, going and reworking my thoughts as if I'm writing the next great American Novel. I don't know if that makes me a writer or a freak show, but words and sharing myself in that format, that will forever be my home. Sharing everything I have going on in my mind, to alleviate some of the noise of my own thoughts on the internet, baring my soul to a group of strangers, that's where I am truly comfortable. Gosh, I love the 21st century!
That being said: The past little while has been hard (I know, you've heard it a million different times on KMW, but I'm, once again, alluding to that vague statement). I have really struggled with a multitude of emotions, fears, medical issues, personal issues and relationships in the past few months that have not only drained me, wiping me out, but also broken me and in all honesty made me hate facing the day. In all honesty: I thought I was going insane. I was controlled completely by my emotions and it made living life incredibly harrowing. I would wake up and know that the day wouldn't be my own, but my emotions. It's easy to tell someone to deal with it and learn to control themselves and their emotions, but when you're completely helpless, drowning in the deep and murky waters of anxiety and depression, you simply can't. I guess you don't know until you're there, tied up and screaming with one of your hands covering your cries for help, the other meddling with the knobs in your brain, cranking your emotions into overdrive while simultaneously paralyzing you. It's crippling and discouraging and exhausting and frustrating and infuriating, and gosh dang, it is hard.
I wish I could tell you some beautiful tale of how I overcame, prayed everyday and relied completely on God and was brave, because I wasn't. I was broken, totally and completely. I was scared and angry, at God for not intervening, at myself for knowing I needed to stop and failing daily, at everyone else for not understanding and at circumstances for remaining stubbornly bleak and painful. It was like standing in quicksand, slowly sinking deeper and deeper, struggling to save myself but entrapping myself more with any sort of effort. Eventually I just stopped and let myself slowly and painstakingly slip further and further under.
That being said, I learned a lot on this journey. I think the biggest takeaway was that God was Lord over it all. I feel like as Christians we assume that this journey will be easy, so when life slaps us in the face and knocks us down we look at God and are ticked. I also think that we are afraid to admit that we are struggling and ask for help when life happens and we get overwhelmed because we are supposed to have it all together. I think we forget that God is good always, even when life isn't as good and that we are just as susceptible to the side affects of living life as the next person. We will experience joy and pain in extreme amounts and some seasons are full of joy and others swing the opposite direction. Some seasons are short and others seem to drag on and I think we fail to remember that that is OKAY. It is okay to be sad and happy and to deny those harder emotions is incredibly dangerous.
I have learned to lean on God and know that there is a purpose for pain and for joy and for struggle. That He sees me and knows I am hurting and that it will not be in vain for He is not a God of suffering or punishment, but of purpose and grace. Sometimes the answer to this problem is healing and sometimes it isn't, but just because it doesn't play out how I would like it to doesn't mean it was a complete failure or that we serve a God who is incapable.
In those moments all I could do was wait quietly. For answers, for healing, for God, for test results and lab work, for answers and phone calls. There were quiet times of crying out to God and not-so-quiet times of yelling, but through it all, every stage of life, I was serving a God who was able and who was faithful. Even when my worship was broken, what He did on that cross and what He is doing is finished.
This was the loudest "quiet"-ness of my life. I was incessantly bombarded with crippling feelings of despair and hopelessness and restlessness and my brain was a constant cacophony of emotions and noises. But in those moments of silence and in the moments of shouting there was a quiet cry to God to please see me and hear me and change me. I was reminded that sometimes life is beautiful and broken and tough and that's okay. There are blessings and there are trails and that doesn't make God powerless and it doesn't make me a recipient of some kind of sick punishment but merely a liver of life. What this does mean is that I have hope in a greater story, hope that this isn't the end of the finish line, hope that there is a purpose and hope that there are better things coming (hint: it's Heaven.)
It means that I can do hard things, even if all I can do is wait quietly.
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Update: I still struggle with anxiety and depression, something I'm sure I'll struggle with for the rest of my life. Like I said, I chose to re blog this post because while going through my blog tonight I was reminded of the hope of Jesus, His love for me and His defeating of my anxiety and depression on the day He died on the cross for my sins. I am not perfect. I still feel hopeless at times, paralyzed and anxious. There are days where I come home and I feel my chest tighten up, my heart races and my breath quickens and I brace myself. I cry and call my parents and they speak encouragement over me and pray for me. It isn't easy or beautiful, it's painful and messy at times, but gosh, isn't that the gospel?
One of the great things about being a Christian is that I will always, always have Christ. The Holy Spirit lives in me, the One who defeated death, lives in me. I may feel alone, but I have access to the most beautiful power of peace and comfort. That is what I cling to. Not my fear, not my anxiety, not my feelings of helplessness, but to Jesus.
He is my hope and stay.
