i’ve found a lot of comfort in writing, drawing, painting, journaling, etc. in any situation where i have the chance to document temporary feelings, i take it because it allows me to separate rational and irrational thoughts.
i write a lot because it is proof that i am struggling without the need to *truly* verbalize these very heavy emotions, feelings, or thoughts happening in my own little world. i draw if i’m angry because it tends to be a release of bottled frustration. i feel as if all of my art tends to favor each other because it’s messy & sometimes disturbing in a sense; but, it is the representation of this beast we so often call depression & his sidekick, anxiety.
i was on the call with my therapist when she told me that we should never term ourselves by stating: “i am depressed.” of course you are sad, struggling, or in a rough patch of some sort, but your illness — whether physical or mental — is not the entirety of you. it is simply just a piece of you.
for a long time now, that has not been an easy thing to comprehend. i presume that others should know i struggle with depression so i make it the entirety of my identity. i become anxious that maybe they won’t believe me if i don’t tell them that i have depression, because it isn’t always an honest sickness. i can use it as a crutch at times because i want that simple fallback, knowing that it will be easier to present that than to be honest with an individual.
furthermore, my brain sees things often at 100% and nothing less. [i’m working on not “catastrophasizing” every instance in my life.] i remember when i first started to drive on my own, and it gave me so much anxiety because what if every single car i pass either follows me, runs into me, cuts me off, or reports me to highway patrol? there was a long period at school where i did not eat my lunch out of fear that someone would come in and shoot up the school. the other day, i physically struggled to breathe and calm down because i found out someone doesn’t like me which automatically means no one does, which is the reason i feel so lonely, because i have given people millions of reasons to dislike me and so that’s why this one person in particular claims to dislike me. anxiety is so fun, isn’t it?
the tremor in this situation is the fact that a lot of my anxiety is typically internalized. although i do have physical repercussions/evidence of feeling anxious, much of it is strictly thoughts i bottle inside. i get funny feelings about people in public, so i stay quiet and keep moving. i don’t like for my food to touch, so i eat counter clockwise because my thought is: the food doesn’t have any chance of touching if i do it that way. even though these are seen as “physical evidences of anxiety,” they become a mask to hide behind.
time and time again we are faced with internalized matters that we assume others never know about, but why do we always shuffle Christ into this mix? we all deal with the temptation of something, but maybe if we do it behind closed doors no one will be suspicious of our intentions. we build walls in front people who love us, because no one is worthy to see us struggling and plus, struggling in private is so much easier than having people in our circle. we present the same sob story to the people around us, because they don’t need to see that we were at fault too, and we can just keep that “secret” to ourselves.
the most obvious issue with all of these situations is we lack honesty with not only others, but also ourselves. and oftentimes when we are unwilling to be transparent about anything at all, the pieces of our puzzle are marred by guilt, shame, confusion & anxiety. we begin to identify ourselves by things that were once merely morsels of our entire mosaic. we give ourselves huge banners over our heads, admitting more to others than the one thing we were trying to keep secret.
i’ve always been in a bit of an identity crisis. i don’t really know what i like to do, i’m not always sure about my strengths, and i find it hard to fit comfortably in places. i’m always changing my hair, style, and preferred way of being perceived because i don’t know what i’m really looking for. almost humorously, though, my good friend sarah asked me who i thought i was, and without skipping a beat i told her that i knew my identity was in Christ & not of these things of the world.
living in our fast paced world, people have every right to be confused about where to place their identity because every single time you turn around, the idea of how we perceive literally anything at all is changed. it’s hard growing up in a society like this, because we have so many different ideas constantly at our fingertips, and our small, undeveloped, hormone-driven brains are exhausted with being consistent in the culture’s ideals. i talk a lot with people who just don’t *know* who they are or what their purpose is. the truth of the matter is: you have no purpose apart from Christ.
Jesus Christ came as fully man and as fully human to give us life and give it more abundant. He came to be the reason we walk forward in darkness, knowing it will never win. He presents our reason for breathing, sleeping, eating, laughing, loving, thinking, existing. He is our purpose.
my messy art is a piece of this colorful mosaic. it is part of who i am, but it is not my entire being. same goes with writing, thrifting, journaling, baking, and watching Gilmore Girls. they are pieces i’m willing to allow to be seen & be different from the others. i am comfortable with these things. beyond that, i am comfortable with the other weights i carry, and the pieces that do not click together as easily.
it’s really easy for me to hide behind this screen, even if i use writing as a coping skill. sometimes i don’t know what to say, which has to be the most difficult feeling because if this is my outlet, why doesn’t it come quicker? anxiety & depression are singlehandedly the most debilitating diseases i have ever been affected by. having them does get easier with time, but knowing that i’m fighting a battle every single day — i don’t think the anger of that will ever change, truly.
in the end, i have found that my purpose is not to be depressed or to be anxious. i am not these things, nor are they me. you do not have to be defined by your past, or even present mistakes. we as humans are complex, growing, intelligent [sometimes] creatures. we so very deserve the love and grace we give others, because we aren’t created to be perfect.
just like my art, my writing, my journaling, i encourage you to get out of your cookie cutter mindset that life is some well-scripted, academy winning movie. be honest with yourself & with others about the things that are weighing on you. and lastly, realize that there is only one you, who is not meant to be defined by things that they cannot control or sickness that they have. just like every other battle, this one is won. we did not come this far for you to not be the person in which Christ Jesus has created you to be.
embrace the idea that you are allowed to step outside of the lines. to tell you the truth: i never follow rules, [except for the ones that will send me to jail & of course my mom] which may be a fault to an extent, but i see that it has allowed me to fall, get back up, learn from my mistakes & understand that these things will not have me. because i’m just emma, a girl with a sickness, but a girl nonetheless, who has so many more things to do than be defined by her illness.
- emma