I'm slowly learning to be patient with myself and the place that I'm at.
It still baffles me to find that gray skies can plunge me into a place of sadness, low energy, and gloom. It’s a bittersweet thing to know I’m not alone in this. I’ve been working to learn more about what’s going on with me and I’m taking steps to push back against it. I’m so grateful for the thoughts and prayers of friends and family. Still, some days are just rough.
Monday was one of those days this week, and I struggled to get even the most basic things accomplished. After hitting the snooze bottom a record number of times, I finally just burst into tears. I j wanted to scream at myself to get it together. I pushed through the morning, shuffled through the afternoon, and slumped into bed later that night feeling discouraged. I started seriously considering getting a prescription. The thought made me anxious and scared.
Please hear me on this: I do not believe that it is wrong to take medicine for depression or any disorder. If you are struggling, you need to do what will help you get better. I just have a history of adjusting poorly to anything – whether it’s my asthma inhaler or regular over-the-counter pain meds – so I’m trying everything else first.
Tuesday was beautiful and bright, so I spent lunch sitting in a makeshift window seat. I learned that just being in the sunlight can be therapeutic. The rays were so incredibly warm and full –indescribably so. I vaguely wished (again) to be somebody’s cat, so I could sit there all day being adorable and self-satisfied - the way I always view cats as being. The rest of Tuesday was much better, but I was frustrated still. I hated feeling like I’m on a roller coaster, up one day and down the next.
Wednesday I read the first chapter of the book in the bible called James. In verse 17, James describes God as the “Father of heavenly lights.” For some reason, that description tugged at me, imploring me to explore it. What I found made me smile.
I keep a journal on a regular-ish basis, and much of the time I write directly to God. What I wrote went something like this:
God, I’m so glad You describe Yourself as the Father of lights. It seems to mean “Father of the sun, moon and stars.” James compares You to those beautiful lights, and shows how You are so much more than them in every way. There’s no change in You, no rising or setting, like the sun. Your light is so complete it cannot be eclipsed and so blazingly bright that there are no shadows left. Just like my body and brain craves sunlight to function and experience happiness, I need You to infinitely more to experience truth and deep satisfaction. Thank You for being bigger than the sun. Thank you for being constant when I am not.
God’s…fullness… isn’t changed by my inconsistency. I can rely on him to be my focus and security, even when I’m a mess. Especially then. I feel humbled by his love.
