It feels like being stuck in a glass box. You can see out but you can’t get out.
It feels like you have to cook a feast for 5o people while also cleaning your house and schooling your kids, and you have less than a day to do it (but really you have nothing to do).
It feels like drowning and trying to swim is just too hard.
It feels like rage under your skin.
It feels like fog.
It feels like loneliness when you’re surrounded by people.
It feels like being in a slow-motion dream.
Everyone else seems so normal. Everyone seems to have energy. Everyone seems to be able to get dressed and do things and take pleasure in air and people and pumpkins.
I am tired. I am so tired and I am sad and I feel overwhelmed nearly all the time for no reason. My body crawls with anxiety, in the middle of the night, during the day.
I am jealous of people who seem to be able to function well and get things done and enjoy life.
I am tired. I have tried to claw out of this box, this thing that has me under it. But I can’t. I can’t fix this weary soul.
I saw a doctor and I told him I was so tired and so sad and that I couldn’t fix it this time. I told him I cry for no reason. I told him I love my life but can’t enjoy it. I told him I can’t remember the last time I wanted to do something. I told him I don’t want to see anyone. I want to hide away. And everyone else, go away.
I told him I felt stupid and crazy and ashamed. I hate this version of myself, this shadow me. I want to feel normal. I want to feel alive. I want to want to do things.
I picked up a prescription, help in a pill, and I’m telling you because I’m scared it won’t work and I’m scared I’ll never be me again. And I’m telling you because I have to write this down and get it out and maybe you need to see me. Maybe you need to see that I am scared and tired and weak and vulnerable and am desperate for help. Because maybe you are too and you need to know that you are not alone in the box. Maybe you need to know that leaders and authors and conference hosts and all the rest, we’re just human too.
I am telling you all of these things because I want you to know that they are true, and it is also true that I still love God and He still loves me and I have hope, whether this thing lifts or not. It is not wrong to feel what I’m feeling, and it is not sinful. It just is.
I am faithful and I am sad. I am obedient to the best of my ability and I have a downcast soul. It may or may not go away, but it doesn’t change my status in God’s Kingdom. I am His child. And I am hurting. But He is gentle and kind and is with me in this.
Don’t believe you are alone or left or unloved or looked down upon by Him because you are struggling to function.
We are all just doing our best, with what we have and who we are.
So. This is me.
How are you?