I have missed blogging so much. I tried to tell myself that a) not many people read my words so does it really matter & 2) it eats up way too much of my time, but the truth is there really is something cathartic about blogging - the act of writing something out that has been rolling around in your head for some time, & then to (maybe) have someone reach out & respond to it. The burden is lifted & you can be connected to someone who may just understand what it’s like to be you.
I have struggled with depression for over ten years. When you’re only 29, that’s pretty much your entire life. Or so it feels. For people who have never dealt with this, what I am about to write may be lost on you. And that’s okay. Count yourself lucky - it’s a foe that is almost never invited & always ALWAYS wears out it’s welcome. When I share with people my battle with depression, they’ll tilt their head to the side, eyebrows up while a frown settles into the corner of their mouths & this is when I realize they have no idea what I’m talking about. They’ve never dealt with it, so they can only share empathy. I often find myself wondering what it is like to never have experienced it. I mean really, what IS it like to wake up & never have this fog settle into the depths of your soul?
Yup…even now I can not even imagine.
I have come to realize that in the past my depression would start as a biological issue, & then quickly descend into a circumstantial. Every year about this time it peaks & on those days I find everything to be more difficult. Getting out of bed, brushing my teeth, caring for my children & my home (the latter of these feels suffocating since these are the things that normally bring me intense joy & satisfaction). I used to fight it so desperately but over the years I have learned that when it’s done having it’s way with me, it will leave just as quickly as it came, & I will start picking up the pieces. Waiting it out is really the only thing you can do.
I tried medication once before. It really wasn’t for me. Though with each bout I have learned that to shut God out of it, exclude him only made it worse. Exponentially so. Last year I realized that Jesus was the only reason I was being sustained. The only reason I was getting out of bed. And in the depths of my heart I knew what it meant to love the Lord your God with all your heart, your mind, your soul & your strength. I imagine God giving us this charge because he knew at times loving him with your heart would be easy, but not your mind or your strength. I didn’t feel like I was doing any of that with enough, but with what little I had, that would be my offering. It had to be my offering.
Today, as I trudged through the activities of my morning, I was struck with the reminder that God is pleased with my offering. Just like Gideon, who stood before the angel of the Lord & in his fear & inadequacy put his measly offering onto the altar, and a fire came down from Heaven. God consumed his offering wholly & completely. Today I offer my measly offering to the Lord. With sadness & exhaustion I lay it before Him, & just wait for His fire to come down. Oh how I can not wait to watch it be consumed by my loving, gracious, holy Father. Knowing that the season of harvest will come when I will have a bounty to lay before Him. But for today, my sacrifice no matter how small, battered & broken it is, will be enough for Him.
Thank you, precious Father, for giving me the grace for today. I know it will be sufficient.
