Afraid
Depression. It scares me. Plain and simple.
I know this doesn't seem like a earth-shattering revelation, but for whatever reason it never hit me that this was true, until last night.
And it explains a lot...of why I do some of the things that I do.
Sometimes depression will come out of nowhere, and like the proverbial frog in the water, I won't realize what's happening until it's too late and I'm firmly entrenched in it. But usually there are signs: trains of thought, types and intensity of emotions, even physical sensations like a hollow pit in my core. This is a good thing, because often it gives me a chance to pull out, to course-correct, to turn on the sirens and do a screeching hand-brake turn.
The problem is, that kind of sharp, dramatic turn usually involves a fair amount of skidding, careening, and spraying of dust and debris to pull off...and sometimes results in rolling and pitching into the ditch.
When I look in the rear-view mirror and I see him coming up behind me, feel his breath on my neck, there is a cold fear that strikes my heart, even as the warmth is welcome and familiar. To do nothing, to keep it inside, is to accept his embrace. To run, though, means doing something, means speaking in some way, means taking some sort of action directed at other people.
So, on the one hand I give in and allow myself to drown in the sick, self-pitying melancholy morass, and let him unpack his bags, and have his way with me...or on the other hand, I hurt those around me in my desperate attempt to escape, potentially damaging relationships in the process...which only leads to more distance and more vulnerability to future visits by the unwanted guest.
The claws are out, for better purchase on the edge to check my fall, but that means any hand that I reach for will likely get lacerated.
(there's not a good picture for this, but make this guy panicking, and have him be Wolverine.)
Sometimes it's hard to discern which is the better course of action. To accept and embrace the impending depression is a bad move. But to whine, or to lash out at others as a means of escaping his clutches is bad too, and sometimes as I do it, I can't help but think that I'm being played. My pain is eased, I evade capture, but at what cost?
It's not always bad, though. Pouring things out here has been quite helpful; it's a place to "get it out", and truly offers release and a certain amount of solace. But it's still not without its dangers, especially with other eyes seeing it. Far preferable, though, to sending an impulsive, emotion-laden message to someone, or offering a provocative response to a comment.
But the point of it all, and what inspired this post, is that it's driven by fear. Not panic in the heart-gripping, visceral sense, but in a teetering-on-the-precipice sense, peering over the edge and feeling the vertigo kick in.
Recognizing this fact is just, simply, interesting. I don't know that it changes things, but being aware of it can only be a good thing; know thy enemy and whatnot.
So, part of what makes this blog so beneficial, is that I can pour out my thoughts into words, which requires taking the chaotic mess in my head and organizing it some, stringing it into coherent sentences and ordering things in a more logical way. (“How do I know what I think until I see what I say?” - E.M.Forster) But then, as I'm stringing them along, I can have more control over the direction in which they're being laid out; I can take that string and tie it to something...or more accurately, Someone.
Honestly, I'm not quite sure how to do that with this one at the moment.
"Fear not," He said. This might be the obvious one. But of course, saying "Fear not" doesn't give me the ability to do it.
But, He didn't just tell them not to fear, He rebuked the wind and the waves, and through His Word created calm. He commanded the elements, and they obeyed. Ironically, perhaps, this fact actually made the disciples not just scared, but terrified. At first they were scared of dying. After He displayed His power, they realized that their fear was misplaced; what was a life-threatening storm outside the boat, compared to a Holy God sitting right IN the boat, next to sinful them?
Fear dying...sure. Fear depression...yes, ok. But more than that...fear God. The God who murdered death through His own death. The God who destroyed the Destroyer (who I think must have spawned Depression in the bowls of Hell.) Stand before the perfect God in the shame of your sin, and be afraid. Be very, very afraid.
But then, open your ears and hear Him when He lifts up your chin, looks you in the eye, and tells you, "Fear not, for it is you Father's good will to give you the Kingdom." Believe Him when He says, "I forgive you all of your sins." Believe Him when He says He will never leave you nor forsake you.
Trust Him. Trust His death that paid for your sins in full. Trust that He rules and reigns all things and is working your trials and sufferings - even the ones that exist in your head - for your eternal good. Trust that He loves you with an everlasting, pure, gracious love, and will one day put your enemy under your feet.
But for now, He is with you through it, whether that enemy overtakes you, or you hurt others in your attempt to escape.
Run to Him, by whatever means necessary.
-M
PS: I'm fine, no worries.