Mental Anguish
I had the opportunity, once, to go swimming in the Pacific. I was visiting my sister in California for her wedding, and as part of the festivities, she took the wedding party to the beach. The Atlantic and I have been acquainted in the past, but I was excited to say, "Hello" to a new ocean. So I donned a suit, slipped off my sandals, and plunged in.
It was a lot of fun, and it was a bit like being a kid again, just playing in the waves. I started trying to bodysurf a tiny bit. Letting the waves carry me added a small amount of thrill, and was entertaining, though I stayed in pretty close to the shore.
On one instance, though, the Pacific decided not to play nice. I launched myself into the wave...and it grabbed me and pulled me under. I don't know what happened exactly, but suddenly I was tumbling, and rolling, and couldn't breathe, and realized I didn't know which way the surface was, to even seek the air I desperately needed. For a minute I thought..."Holy cow, this might be what kills me." Water got into all the various orifices in my head, which at some point made contact with the bottom, and I managed to get my bearings and stand up. ...yes, I'd been deposited in waist-deep water.
I felt like a complete fool. No one around me knew what had just happened, but my nose and sinuses were burning, I couldn't hear anything, and my hair was a complete matted mess. I was embarrassed that I had almost just drowned so near to the shore, so I tried to hide the fact that I was coughing up water, and disentangled myself from the ocean (with whom I was no longer friends), and tried to non-chalantly regroup and recover, back on shore by the towels.
This isn't a perfect illustration of what it's like, but it's in the general vicinity. One day, everything is clear, I'm not a weepy mess, and I see my pain and struggles as somewhat-silly illusions, tame beasts that are easily subdued and put in their place, or placid and friendly oceans one can simply stand up in. But other times, it's the reverse. The agony is so overwhelming, the pain so great, and my perceptions so seemingly-clear, with the water showing its true colors as the monster that's out for blood, that believing otherwise is shown to be the true lunacy. In those times, though on the one hand I know that the sun in shining and the water's not that deep, on the other hand, that doesn't give me the strength or ability to pull out of the flat spin that I'm in...and knowing the surface isn't far away doesn't help if you don't know in which direction to find it.
And as true of a depiction as this is for depression in general, it's compounded in the current mess I'm swimming in, in its complexity and duration. It's not depression in the more over-arching sense; it's more pointed, more situational, and more like some sort of trauma response. It consumes my thoughts, steals my sleep, makes it hard to function, runs on repeat in my head, and results in such intense emotional pain that it's truly breaking me. I've been stretched out on the rack for months, and the pressure is only increasing; joints are pulling apart at this point, and I'm hanging on by a thread. My attempts to mitigate the pain by incrementally pulling away aren't working, and something's got to give, and soon.
But then, tomorrow might be a rare good day. I'll stand up and think, "What was I so tormented about? I'm so silly; the water is shallow and friendly." There's no need to talk, no need for help; everything is fine.
...until it's not again.
I have confidence in my justification coram Deo, it's the coram mundo side of things that keeps giving me trouble.
So I'll preach to myself:
There is one Certainty, one solid Anchor, one immovable Rock where our bearings can be found. It is in the One whose incarnation we celebrate today. Everything else is distorted by sin; He alone is ultimate Truth. He is Love Itself, who endured - on my behalf - mental anguish so intense that He sweat drops of blood, and He suffered not only that but the full measure of the wrath of God in my place. He did not bend or buckle under the pressure. He sees sees me and knows, and He - if He doesn't put an end to my suffering in this life - will, one way or another, see me through until He brings me to Himself, where all anguish will be ended and He will wipe away every tear.
The whole world and everything that I perceive could be a lie.
He, though, is not.
-M
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