closure.

I’ve been suffering from discontent in my heart and soul for the past few weeks. I can’t seem to shake this feeling that’s bearing down on me. I know exactly where it came from, I know exactly why but I cannot make it go away. A few weeks ago someone blindsided me with some not very nice things and out of nowhere, really. And those not very nice words planted a seed of doubt. These little seeds of worthlessness and failure and hatred of myself. These horrible, horrible things that dug deep into my heart and latched on and then spread like wildfire. I doubted myself at every turn, because that’s what you do with these kinds of things.  You’re not good enough, you're told, and you start to believe it.

I just kind of meandered through my days, knowing that these things aren’t true, but not really believing that. But it’s not enough to know that about yourself when you wonder what the rest of the population thinks.  How the rest of the world sees you. It’s not supposed to matter, but we know that it does. It does matter because you know that you’re not fake, you know that you’re not hypocritical and you know that you care.  But then there’s that person, that, for whatever reason, is jealous or angry or upset or spiteful or vengeful.  There’s that person that plants tiny little words of doubt into the person you thought you were, but now you’re not so sure.  And if that’s how they see you, then what about the rest of humanity?  These things become lies. Evil little, dirty little lies. These are the things you once knew:  I make mistakes and I am the farthest thing from perfect, but I am not useless. I am not worthless. I am not alone. I am created in God’s image and he would not create something that He did not love. But it’s completely a different thing to feel these seeds of doubt and deceit sprout up and curl their vicious tendrils around that little spot where all your emotions hide. And for them to kill off those things you once knew and replace them with the things you now know: I am worthless.  I am useless.  I am alone.

And to take these things back, to gain control in shifting sand you have to reach out. You have to listen to the God who is quiet, but He is there. He breathed new life into the dark through Evan.  Through my husband who has to say nice things to me because he is my husband, but I knew that those were not his words.

It’s kind of like spring time, when you pull all the dead vines off the side of your house and rip them from the chain-link fence. You trim back the parts of the trees and bushes and plants that have died during the harsh winter and you are left with new blooms. If you scratch the surface of that branch a little bit of green shows through. That’s new life. It’s a bit of a dramatic analogy. But aren’t you always surprised when you were just sure that your favorite bush didn’t make it through the frost and the snow and the below zero nights? But there it is, thawing out with the rest of the world. There, too, are the truths. Hidden below the dead branches and the brown leaves. It’s going to take some time to clean up and to restore, but it’s alive.  It’ll be okay.

I’m not suffering with depression. I don’t hate myself. I know these things to be true: I am useful. I am productive. I am kind. I am not alone. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Those other things, those did not come from a place of truth or a place where healthy emotions would thrive and flourish.

Emotions are messy and I don’t like them. I find myself at a loss for what I should do when someone is having an emotion around me. I should be an encourager and a friend and I should have positive things to say. But I don’t like emotions. I don’t like to be honest about how I’m feeling. I don’t like to get down and dirty with other people’s emotions because it usually involves personal space invasions and a lot of touching—two of my least favorite things. But that’s not the point.  The point is that I shouldn’t be comfortable where there is suffering. I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I can be there for you. I am going to be intentional with my words. To not speak my mind because it’s exactly that; but to allow my words and my emotions to come from my heart where they will only build people up, not knock them down. I’m going to be intentional and forgiving and loving.  I’m going to regrow and I will be okay and I will be able to forgive and I will be able to forget and other things will happen that will start this process again but I will not falter because I know these things to be true: I am useful. I am productive. I am kind. I am not alone. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.