I almost reached for the Advil PM and a glass of water. But here I am -with leftover peach cobbler and coffee instead. Because while I am tired (I am ALWAYS tired), there is this part of my story that needs to get out. And of course peach cobbler and sugared up coffee are the best sidekicks to get that done. But where do I start? That's such a hard thing to know. Straight to the heart of the story I guess?
So, 5 months ago, I got engaged. That wedding was set to happen next month. It was all done. All we had to do was show up. But somewhere along the way during the last couple of months, life happened. The ugly kind of life. The kind of life that says, "It's been a while since you've hurt- let's just go ahead and remedy that." I began to feel a kind of anxiety that I have never before in my life felt. I can't even describe it. It caused me actual physical pain. I fell asleep with my heart literally hurting every single night. I won't divulge the things that happened that led to that anxiety, but I knew deep down that I wasn't ready for this. But everyone was so happy for me. How could I let them down? So I pressed on. And the anxiety got worse. Fast. And then full on depression hit. And that kept growing at record speed also. I couldn't keep up.
There are only a handful of people that know this next part but I'm putting it out here in these written words because I can't keep up with the mask wearing thing anymore. It's too much. I need to be real and authentic, no matter the cost of my image. Soooo, the depression grew into a desire for death. Every. Single. Day. I would see all of these happy people just living out their perfectly normal lives and it was unbearable for me. I wanted that. And it was unreachable because I was bound to this upcoming marriage that I wasn't ready for. I was gearing up to be some sort of false sacrificial lamb that kept everyone believing the lie of my happy ending. The problem was, my happy ending in real life was me waking up sobbing every morning trying to figure out how I was going to make it through the day, much less my entire life. I never resorted to actually acting on any of my desires for death, but for the first time, I understood what suicidal people who cut themselves for release go through. I wanted that same release. I longed for it with every fiber of my being. It needed to come out. Somehow. The tension and the agony going on in my insides was so unbearable. And the isolation- oh the isolation. It was a level of pain that I just didn't know what to do with. There is no possible way to describe that kind of pain through words. The only single thing that got me through was the whisper of, "Your children are not ready to live without you." That's it. That's all I had. My kids. I must fight for them. I must.
While it wasn't nearly to the same degree, I remember having doubts during my first engagement. And the same thoughts about being too far in and having to see it through and just hope for the best. And we all know how that worked out. Was I really going to let history repeat itself? I couldn't. So 10 days ago, the decision to not get married was made. And immediately, the anxiety eased. Finally, some release. And then. A phone call. From the ex-husband. To tell me that for reasons beyond his control, he was having to sell his house and move 3 hours away. And the boys will have to switch schools and who knows how scheduling time with them will work out now. The one stable and constant thing in their life, gone. Damn. This life, man. It just never lets up. So there's a new wave of depression hitting. It's better than it was 10 days ago, but honestly, that doesn't say a whole lot right now. It's all just really hard. That's just the honest truth.
So here I am. The not-so-proud owner of 2 dresses (tucked away in the garage so I don't have to actually look at them) as evidence that I have no idea what I'm doing in this life of mine. One dress that's a token of a failed marriage and another dress a token of still being a clueless hot mess. I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or next week, or next month, or next year. And I don't know when the bad depression days will hit hard and when they will be more subdued. I'm on a day by day schedule right now. But here's what I do know.. Jesus is still Jesus. I'm not always able to focus on him when the pain hits, but when he does give me the gift of his overwhelming presence, it's so very sweet. When I can look up at the sky while I'm driving and see a sunset that oozes his goodness and glory, I cling to that moment and hold on to it for as long as I can. When I can hug my boys and smell their sweet skin and take in all of the good kind of life that's happening inside of them, I relish in that. And for right now, I'm remembering that trusting Jesus doesn't really happen in the easy times. It happens when the actual need for trust arises. And as it turns out, I can trust him even in the very darkest of hours.
