I recently wrote a column for Mom Life Today, a Christian moms' platform entitled, "I Cried in the Shower Last Night." The column spoke of my grief surrounding the impending high school graduation of my triplet daughters: https://momlifetoday.com/grief-when-children-graduate-high-school/
Tonight I found myself in tears in my bathroom again.
This, however, was different.
(To be quite honest, I am not sure what it is with me and closing the bathroom door and being real with my emotions....)
I am also going to honestly say that I have been toying with many ideas to write in this blog recently, only to abruptly change my mind because I realized my motives were too emotional. Being brutally honest here -- the emotions were anger.
The Holy Spirit was quick but patient to show me those blogs were unnecessary and not exactly beneficial for my readers. I do not want this blog to be a place to vent or air my dirty laundry.
Oh, but there IS laundry.
The "loads," I have stuffed into baskets the last two years have mounted. The last two months have been extra heavy and downright exhausting. I have been keeping a decent front. My social media is filled with happy photos and posts. I have all the reasons to be smiling. Most of it is genuine.
Underneath the surface of the smiles and the posts is someone who has battled depression for 25 years. It's a constant battle, and I have grown so much spiritually through this.
If you or someone you love has ever dealt with chronic depression and has been a wife and mom at the same time, you will understand that it comes with a responsibility to repeatedly "hold it together" for the sake of your family. You do not want to be a burden or drag them down with you. So you fight. You fight back tears. You fight the urge to give in to the voices telling you to give up.
You fight in other ways, too. You fight with your family. You find yourself wishing they understood you. And you get angry when they "should know by now."
But still you keep going. You keep doing. You keep being.
You keep smiling. You keep posting. You keep holding on.
I am a first born child. That means I try to fix everything and take care of everyone. When no one else will do it, I get angry at the lack of willingness and then I jump in and get it done.
And sometimes I text my husband sharing him how tired I am of being everything to everyone and doing everything for everyone.
"I'm done."
(He gets this text a lot.)
I'm not done with him. I'm just done. I feel defeated. He doesn't say much in return because he has lived with this woman who suffers from depression for 24 of those 25 years. He knows his boundaries.
Carrying everyone's "stuff" while tucking my own mental health under one arm surely makes me look lopsided. I start to ask for help as all the "stuff" muffles my voice.
"Can someone just...?"
"Would you mind.....?"
It's super hard for me when people see me carrying so much and then keep walking by me.
When it gets too heavy, I fall into its heap.
I was "done" tonight. I was carrying the anger that was stacked on top of my sadness and grief. Why won't someone just help???
This still small voice reminded me what I needed to do.
I have grown through these moments to know more and more that my greatest weapon against my own emotions is worship.
I know it full well. And yet I try to avoid it. I don't want to "go there." Worship makes me cry . Ugly cry. I just don't want to cry anymore, even though it is the healing kind.
Still, I have learned to listen to this voice.
I turned on my bluetooth speaker as I packed a bag for an event I am attending in two days. I chose worship music. I listened to the muffled sounds as I walked between rooms. I decided to take it with me into the bathroom to prepare for my shower.
Then a song came on that broke me. Almost like a natural reflex, my arms raised and I sobbed in worship.
Ugly cried. Very ugly. And yet beautiful.
I fell to the floor and could literally feel the presence of Jesus. His arms. His breath. His presence...it made me tremble...
I was in awe.
If you have never had this experience, I invite you to INVITE HIM.
Turn on the music. Tell Him if you really don't want to do this. Tell Him everything. He will meet you there.
He met me there on the bathroom floor.
Suddenly it was not about my emotions. It wasn't about all that I was carrying. It wasn't about the anger that I was embracing.
It was all about Him. He never stopped fighting for me. All these 25 years. In the good times and the times where I cried because I did not want to be "sad again," He was holding me.
Here is a link to the song that broke me. It's not new to me. It was just what God knew I needed in order to worship Him on the bathroom floor.
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