strug·gle
I cry a lot. It’s no secret.
I’m not ashamed of it, but I have lived a great part of my life with the notion that crying is wrong. That I have to be stronger.
“Oh, stop being dramatic,” they say. “You have so much to smile about.”
True, the blessings in my life are undeniable. But as I sit here and contemplate my story, I am reminded of these words:
“There is a time for everything…
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance.”
{Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 4}
Happiness and sadness walk hand in hand, so why are we so ashamed of our low moments?
That same passage goes on to say, “A time to be silent and a time to speak.” (v. 7)
Needless to say, in honour of #BellLetsTalk, I think now is my time to speak.
I often fall into the trap of thinking that my struggles are nothing compared to others. I’ve never been abused, hospitalized, or diagnosed. I was raised in a family committed to love and faith, and I recently had the wedding of my dreams. But the reality is I spent a good part of my early adult life struggling with what I now know to be anxiety and depression.
I’ve always been really cautious about using those terms, because it’s so easy to use mental disorders as adjectives…
“It’s just my OCD coming out.” || “Oh yeah, yesterday I was really depressed.”
However, I think it’s also really easy to dismiss the severity of people’s feelings, so let’s consider the facts for a second.
Depression is not just a temporary change in mood. It’s sadness throughout the day, nearly every day. It’s trouble making decisions, trouble concentrating. It’s feelings of worthlessness, guilt and irritability. It’s thoughts of death, suicide and self-harm.
It’s all of these things and more over a period of 2 consecutive weeks. That’s it.
And there’s all different causes…
Perhaps an imbalance of chemicals in the brain. Maybe the way we think about things and view the world. Or even an environmental trigger, such as the death of a loved one, periods of relational conflict, or a stressful work environment.
Whatever the reason, you cannot dismiss the ‘label’ based on what you see with your eyes.
The winter of my first year of university hit me like a brick wall. The bitter cold and emptiness of the north had gotten to me. But it wasn’t just that. Like so many others, I remember feeling as if the entire world was falling out from under me. I was so overwhelmed, stressed, and tired.
And I had so many questions: Who am I? Why am I here? What’s the point?
Though this season of struggle faded slowly, I was knocked over even harder in the years to come.
I had entered the realm of relationships, and while later than most, I look back and see that I still wasn’t ready. My self-esteem was poor and I was completely lacking in confidence. I was looking for someone to fill the void of acceptance that I so desperately craved.
When that relationship crumbled, I lost all sense of myself. I began on a path of self-hatred. I considered myself to be utterly cruel, overly complicated, and completely unloveable. A failure.
Mental illness is a relatively difficult thing to write/talk about. Although there are now many efforts and campaigns designed to reduce and eliminate the stigma, I still feel vulnerable – as if I’m under a spotlight of scrutiny. Even as I write this, I can’t help but begin to worry about what you, the reader, will think of me.
“How pathetic…” || “Suck it up. It’s all in your head…”
Now imagine what it’s like feeling this way and dealing with people in real life.
It also doesn’t help that it’s so oddly difficult to articulate the feelings anxiety and depression bring on. It’s like feeling a million things, and nothing all at once.
Recently I read another blog that described it like this…
“When your heart’s racing a mile a minute and it feels as if someone has grabbed hold of your stomach and is twisting with all their might, while you’re simultaneously feeling as if the world is falling apart around you…your life and every decision you’ve ever made replaying in your mind, while feeling inexplicably irritable and unsure of yourself…”
To reduce this to nothing more that a state of mind is downright hurtful.
While no two struggles are alike, there is one thing they all have in common: the difficulty we have explaining to others exactly what is going on, especially to those who have never experienced these feelings.
When I first came to terms with what was going on inside my head, I decided to confide in someone who, I thought at least, would offer help. This person looked at me as I stood there with tears running down my face and told me I was wrong… That I was just sad for now, not forever. That everyone experiences bad days.
Talk about feeling even more isolated and alone.
Thankfully, I have had many supportive people in my life since then. And slowly, but surely, I am learning to communicate freely. While there are many who do not know my whole story, they have come alongside me to teach me valuable lessons. Time and time again, they remind me of these truths…
I AM NOT ALONE.
I WAS MADE FOR MORE.
Most of the time, it’s not advice that we need, but a listening ear and an empathetic heart. It’s someone who comes alongside and supports you where you are, while encouraging you to reach for more.
I strive to be the person I so desperately needed in my time of struggle. I am determined to suspend judgment and love unconditionally.
So, what’s your story?
Let’s talk.