There is something beautiful about our suffering.
There is something gracious in our ability to feel pain.
There is something wonderful in the plan to understand brokenness.
As stated in the blog I posted Tuesday, this week has been something from a nightmare. Suicidal ideation is somewhat of a constant battle when you are depressed. Dreaming of a faraway land where you won't ever feel this way again is what I know many often ache for. It isn't always at the forefront of my mind but is always there. You learn to balance and "trick" your brain into seeing that things aren't as hopeless as it feels. Suicidal ideation is something I have known since I was 14. It is my greatest fear.
Suicidal ideation has quarantined me in misery. Today is the first day I have brushed my teeth, worn "real clothes," and actually engaged in conversation with people other than my parents. I am reminded today why it is a good thing that I chose to stay & why I make that same choice every single day.
Through this period in my life, where I am navigating my greatest battles, I have seen, felt, heard, and remembered the promises of my Savior. There was a lapse in time, where I thought certain that I was the bullseye on God's dartboard. Yet, even in the cloudiness of my misunderstanding of Jesus Christ, He outstretched His arms when all others were closed and I put aside the weight of things I had deemed forever on my shoulders. It is still a choice I have to make every day, but knowing that I have the strength to walk in the faith in things unseen is a choice I never want to regret.
I think we often forget that we were created for times such as these. Do you ever sit around and think of the absolute mystery and wonder and grace that we have the chance to exist here in these moments? Does that baffle anyone else? The Lord could have chosen my existence for any other point in time, yet it was now that he gave me the ability to experience life. In the ups and downs of my journey of both recovery and acceptance, I haven't always embraced the perfect grace and undeserving love bestowed upon me daily.
It isn't necessarily that I feel as if I deserve the battle of depression, but that part in my mind that knows Christ understands that I am sinful and unworthy of what the Lord gives. If I were worthy of anything at all, the cross where Jesus Christ bore my sin would be completely useless. The mere gift of breath in my lungs from God is enough. We were never promised a life void of suffering, but we were promised our sorrows would never be wasted. Psalm 27 was a part of Scripture my mom gave me when I first began battling anxiety at age 14. It still rings true today. Here's what David wrote:
13 I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.
Learning to wait, reaching toward patience, learning to be obedient in what is being told of me has been a mini-battle within this entire war. I don't think that I will ever really understand why I have to be the one who deals with this. Right now I am OK with that, although I know it won't always be that simple. Running this race that God has given me, and running it with endurance, is really the only thing I want to be good at. I have seen the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. He has brought me out of darkness and thick fog. He has sustained me and held me. Oh, how He loves.
My mom picked me up from work last night. It was pouring rain as we rode the interstate back into our town. "My Hallelujah" by Bryan and Katie Torwalt was playing over the radio. This was our song of hope when I began this journey so many months ago. The chorus still rings true to this day:
O, what can take away
My hallelujah
No darkness can contain
My hallelujah
Your cross has made the way
For my hallelujah
My hallelujah
Thank you, Lord, for these valleys.
Emma