when I was in fourth grade, my mom and dad had a parent teacher conference with one of of my teachers from school. It wasn’t anything out of the norm as all teachers held conferences with parents at least once a year. But for me it was different. I was deeply convinced that my teacher didn’t like me as a student so she would say all these bad things about me to my parents. Anxiety overtook me and I made myself ridiculously sick for two weeks. That is my life.
This past year has been full of downs for me. Not because I am a debbie downer, but because it seemed like nothing was working out. I felt squished and worn down by the trials of my life. MDD has overshadowed most of my year, since the end of June. And as I lost traction I found every fear, every worry, and every anxious thought overcoming me like a riptide hellbent on dragging me under. I have been diagnosed with an Anxiety Disorder, PTSD and MDD. And since I left the hospital all three, until this year, sat on the back burner, resting on a low heat, controlled and maintained in a somewhat healthy way. Until this year. Since the end of June I have felt like I couldn’t breathe, anxiety stripping me down to the bone, overshadowing me and melting me to the ground. I managed it until September, when even in my own job I was overtaken with anxious busy thoughts of everything that has happened to me. The second to last week of September I became very ill, and having been battling illness and a weak immune system since.
I never took the time to realize how my own anxiety was killing me, goading me towards death and despair. My anxiety, paired with MDD and PTSD has been slaughtering me since June. And tonight as I sat in my bed, I became painfully aware of that anxiety as I felt a weight pressing down on my chest, daring me try to fight it. Anxiety was my new years kiss. A kiss hello and a kiss goodbye, as I confronted the very thing that has tried to kill me for the very first time, and kissed it goodbye, sending it off to a far away place. I don’t have my anxiety under control. I’m not even sure what it looks like to manage it let alone conqueor it. But I do think I am one step closer to slaying it to death, simply because I acknowledged it.
Christmas time is the time of year where everyone goes about, so busy with their shopping and their things and their events. So busy with being busy. Everyone has a dab of happiness that has motivated that ‘pep in their step’. Everyone is looking forward to spending time with their families and then ringing in the new year. But really, not everyone feels that way. And everyone would include me.
This year has been the most challenging for me. Moving out, switching jobs often, trying to find some consistency. I’ve been sick since September, loosing my voice twice and fracturing my foot. This has been the hardest year since I got out of the hospital. Thoughts that I haven’t had in such a long time coming back to me for years. There’s such a brokenness and depravity that I have felt. A hopelessness that I am unable to put words to. Running to and fro looking for ways to sate my hungry, broken heart. The pull of the need of people around me. Lack in finances in every way possible. Disappointment.
I have hated this year with every fiber of my being. So when the time of ‘merry and bright’ comes around I honestly feel dark and gloomy. Because it’s been a dark and gloomy year. I don’t know how to let people in on my darkness. I don’t know how to ask for help, let alone receive it. I know it sounds like I’m complaining but it’s been a year of silence, of pain unspoken. Asking the Lord for a reprieve because I am physically incapable of moving forward, of setting any dreams or goals. The future is hazy and blurry and I cannot see. I’m more aware of my mistakes and my flaws and my shortcoming than anything else. Maybe I’ve taken on more than I can realistically handle. Maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew or maybe I just went the wrong way. As a result i timidly await the Lords punishment for all of my mistakes and all of my flaws, even though I know that’s not His heart but that’s my experience.
This is the time of year where people just want to be held. Where they want to be affirmed and loved. They want to be around people who love them and encourage and appreciate them. As I sit in an empty, I attempt to call my spirit a little bit higher, out of the slimy dark pit I’ve been in, out of the places of brokenness and bareness that I have been living in. Not because it’s Christmas, but because I’m desperate to breathe again, to see and sing again. To smell the air, and allow the breeze to kiss my skin. Because 2016 has been so long and so relentless that I don’t think I can go any lower.
Psalm 34:18 ADONAI is near those with broken hearts; he saves those whose spirit is crushed.
preparing for my brothers wedding this week, my head has been a flurry of pinks and greens and decorations and flowers. yesterday on my drive home, I was talking to Jesus about the things I’ve done and thought these past few months. Things that bring me much shame and that are hard to talk about. I was listening to a worship set when I had a picture of me. I was a little girl wearing a white dress. And I was beautiful.
I was walking around with a bouquet of flowers in my hand and I would stop by a man, offering him my flowers. He eagerly accepted them and then I would move on to the next and the next. The men continued to take my flowers and I continues to offer them. But from person to person my flowers began to die in my hands. It was a bouquet of dead flowers. And with each new person I offered them to, I only became more and more sad, but yet I continued to offer my flowers away. When I was left with only one dead flower I stopped offering them away, because I felt like I had nothing left.
I continued to walk until I encountered God. Not Jesus or Holy Spirit but God. He looked upon me with such love, and pain for my pain. I looked up at Him and wept, almost like in those animated shows, where the eyes are so full of tears they look like large buckets of water. I had buckets and buckets of water falling from my eyes. I shook my head back and forth as tears fell, apologizing, saying I didn’t know, I didn’t realize what I had done until I had nothing left. He took hold of me any my one dead flower scooping me into His embrace, weeping with me. He still wanted my flower, even though it had died. He knew it’s value even in death.
I don’t have the wherewithal to stop doing the very thing that is PROMISING to kill me. I am dying in the middle of a battlefield because instead of accepting victory I keep running behind enemy lines. I keep getting stabbed. I am dying. And I don’t know where to go from here. The very thing I hate it consuming me because I don’t hate it enough to run for the hills.
Jesus help me run for the hills. Or just run to you.
It’s been a while since I’ve written, mostly because I’ve had a lot going on and haven’t had time to process. But as the sunsets and gentle autumn breezes float through my window, as the warm of candles and the smell of apple cider and cinnamon sink in processing becomes easier. I feel like a princess on my bed of white sheets. I feel like I’m in my own world where I can escape. Or come back from a long time of escaping.
Do you have those people in your life that make you feel so welcome and unwanted at the same time? Like I love you, but please don’t need anything from me, or please realize I’m only going to let you in this much? I do. I feel boxed out of most people In my immediate world. This is part my fault due to bad decisions I’ve made that have made me want to pull away. But fault is never one sided. And this seems like the hardest hurdle to overcome. I’m not sure if I have the energy in me to overcome these hurdles anymore, or even the desire to do so.
They only let you in as much as they want to let you in, but want you to be an open book. I don’t understand that. You ask of something you cannot and refuse to give.
But it’s in the little things. Because sometimes you just want to show up in their instagram photo more than once every two years. And it sounds so silly but feels so real to me. Maybe it’s because of where I’m at. It’s like I’ve lost my voice altogether and don’t know how to speak anymore. I don’t want to speak anymore. I don’t want to try. I want to melt into the white of the sheets, into the smell of cinnamon and fresh candles. Hide behind the dark of the curtains and stay hidden. It’s not all the time, but right now it is. i just wanna melt away.