The other day I blogged about how the day after a long holiday (especially after Christmas/ New Year’s) is gray and mushy; I failed to mention that this time of year is particularly difficult for me in other ways, too. The past few years I’ve had the after-Christmas/is-the-sun-ever-gonna-shine-again blah’s. Three years ago, I was given an even bigger reason to detest the first week of January–on Jan. 6, 2006, my grandfather passed away. I was there with him holding his hand as he died of renal failure, very painful and very difficult to witness. It’s funny how the “happiest time of the year” can give birth to what I find to be the saddest.
I try to be real about what’s going on because I know someone out there probably feels just as beat down as I do today. It’s as if the little spark that gives me zestiness and flavor has been extinguished…and I don’t know how to ignite a fire within me once again. I lie in bed with my journal frantically writing down my thoughts–secrets known only between God and me. If the depression doesn’t eat me up, surely the anxiety will.
I spend a great deal of time and energy fighting off the fear that courses through my veins. The hormone adrenalin is already reacting to a non-existent fight-or-flight situation, so my brain races to find a fear. It doesn’t take too long before I fall back on hypochondria, self-defeat, and other classic stand-bys. The day has barely started and I’ve already been defeated.
I’m learning to rework my thoughts, to rail against the hormones, and to fight against these diseases that suck so much of my life away. I pray to my God and find comfort in Him alone, especially when pat answers fall so very short.
When I experience these “flare-ups” (that’s what I like to call them), it’s hard for me to focus on little else. I turn inward and upward because it’s all I can do to make it through the day. Believe me, friends, I am trying and fighting and winning. The war isn’t won all at once, but by a series of battles. It’s one of these battles I am fighting now, but I will win the war…or rather the war is won in Christ, yet the battle rages on. It’s a strange sort of war, fought on so many fronts–personal, emotional, psychological, social, spiritual, and so on.
I don’t want to make it sound too pretty, too messy, or too personal; I merely want to explain what is going on. I’m not looking for sympathy, attention, or any of that. But I will humbly accept your prayer and thank you for taking my request to the throne of grace.
At times, the path becomes difficult to tread upon for us all. Right now, it is difficult for me to walk on this rugged path. But I will walk it anyway.
0 thoughts on “The Rugged Path”
love you. understand. empathize.
(and i got your back)