I’ve received so many encouraging words from all of you regarding my post, “I said, ‘No.’” And I appreciate your support more than I can eloquently put in words. Some of you have shared your own stories that have touched my heart. We’re in this thing called life together.
But that is, by far, my rawest post. I still cringe when I read it. Like sprinkling salt on an open wound.
I talk a good game. I put on an even better show.
If we met in the streets, you’d never know my life was anything but perfect because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it?
Appearances, appearances, appearances.
I’m starting to learn just how fragile appearances are. Yesterday was a good day. I was happy for most of it.
Happy for me is gliding along the thin ice of contentment. Just below that ice is a frozen slush of depression. Where mental and emotional anguish lurks- waiting for an opportunity to surface.
And it takes very little to crack the ice. It can be something as simple as seeing a happy traditional family (aka a cruel reminder of what I don’t have) to references or scenes of sexual assault.
Then I slip.
So I was gliding along in my contentment. Good job, great coworkers, work almost done, and a big warm bed waiting for me at home.
And I hear news on the Stanford Rape Case in the background: Rape. College.
I slip. The ice cracks.
I go from 🙂 to 😐 in an instant.
Then between clocking out to coming home: 😦 to 😥
And then I’m submerged in the body-numbing heart-stopping icy waters of depression.
All I can think about in the moments of sleeping pills, shower and bed is, “Does it ever get better?” What if this is how it’ll always be?
Me trying to convince myself I’m not a second-rate version of the person I used to be. Trying to believe that I’m not condemned to a sub-par existence.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Jim’s and my baby more than anything in the world. I don’t see her as a consequence, I see our Nugget as my rainbow after the storm. Like God’s covenant with Noah. A reminder that there is hope and a future.
And more than anything I want to give her an untarnished life. A life that isn’t besmirched by the sins of her parents. I owe my baby that much.
I’m trying to co-parent with Jim as best I can.
I just… hate him.
I know, I know. Hate is a strong word. And I don’t throw that out lightly. I know Christ forgives him. Jim told me he has made peace with the Lord and that’s what’s important.
I *know* but I still feel… ugh.
I wish I could snort a few lines of forgiveness and be done with it. If only life was as simple as that. If only pain and suffering was a fix away from being fixed.
Anyone who has ever battled addiction is already a master of appearances. We don’t feel pain, we mask it. Because the suffering we mask is a hideous monster that appears almost too powerful to be destroyed.
I’d love to be able to type, “I’m so secure in my faith that I never get hung up on nothing. I forgive easy peasy and without delay.” But that’d be a lie.
Do I believe God can solve any problem? Yes.
I’m still human, though. And there are moments of weakness when I come face-to-face with my monster and instead of taking that pain to Christ. I run to my bottle of sleeping pills. To ignore it. For one more night. Prolonging the inevitable.
Here I am, the next morning. And *surprise, surprise* the pills didn’t fix anything.
They never do.
You’d think I’d have learned by now. That I’d be the clever hamster who gets off the wheel and stays off. But nope. #addiction
“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Does it ever get better?
God, I hope so!