A Tangled Mess

Disclaimer: I'm struggling with how to articulate my feelings right now, so bear with me. I apologize in advance. I've also realized that I've started to hold back a part of myself on this blog. I'm not okay with that. The purpose of this blog is for me: an outlet for my feelings, my thoughts, and my prayers. Thus, I'm going to stop doing that. End disclaimer.

I am not a happy person. That doesn't mean unhappy. Unhappiness is, in fact, the opposite of happy. I'm simply...not-happy. Before I became a Christian, the most salient part of my personality that I remember is anger. Oh man was I angry. I'm sure that some of it was prepubescent, teenage angst type anger. But much of it was me. I fought often. I hurt deeply. I had a unmercifully short temper. Since becoming a Christian, and since maturing some, I've mellowed significantly. I truly believe that prayer has grown my patience immeasurably. What I'm trying to say, though, is that the absence of happiness doesn't upset me. I view it more as an even keel. I laugh, I smile, and I have no trouble feeling joyful. But I don't consider happiness to be an essential part of my person. There is, however, a downside. The not-happy touches perilously closely to adrift.

I'm not sure what causes it, where the trigger lies, but sometimes I fall adrift. All of the sudden, there is a tangible separateness between myself and the rest of the world, like looking through a window. I can see everything clearly, but the sounds are a little muffled and I am aware that there is a barrier there. Sometimes this lasts for a few moments...sometimes a few days...and worse yet, a few weeks or months. I've been adrift for awhile now. There are two things that scare me about being adrift: 1) I feel further than ever from God and 2) adrift is one small step from emptiness. Thinking about it, those might in fact be the same thing. 

I don't talk about it often (read: never) but as a sophomore in college, I struggled with depression. Nothing terrible, aside from the suicidal thoughts. I felt so empty. Not only was there a window between me and the rest of the world, but the window was blacked out. I knew the world was right there but I couldn't see it, I couldn't hear it, I didn't know how to get there. In fact, the only thing that kept me connected to the world in any way was my desperate desire to seem connected, to hide everything. Eventually, those attempts to seem normal morphed into a new type of normal. Even better, I discovered the power of prayer and the wealth of God's love.

My pastor shared a wonderful analogy that I think is oh, so fitting for me. He said that God is always with us, right there beside us but sometimes, we humans turn. It might be a small shift or a full revolution but all of the sudden we can't see Him anymore. He's still there, but turning has blocked our view. I think that that is beautiful. In the back of my mind, I know that He's still there. All I have to do is turn. Turn back around. Shuffle my feet a little and I'll see Him again. For the past few weeks, I've been turned a little sideways, but I'm ready to turn back. And I take some measure of peace in the thought that even if I can't turn back right away, or it takes more than a few steps to get there, He's still there. Right on the other side of my shoulder. God doesn't give up on us; we give up on us. If that doesn't prove that our God is a wonderful God, I sure as hell don't know what does. I don't understand that kind of love, but I give thanks for it everyday.

Psalm 42 has recently resonated with me in a major way.

As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, my God.
² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
    When can I go and meet with God?
³ My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”
⁴ These things I remember
    as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go to the house of God
    under the protection of the Mighty One
with shouts of joy and praise
    among the festive throng.

⁵ Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.

⁶ My soul is downcast within me;
    therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
    the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
⁷ Deep calls to deep
    in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
    have swept over me.

⁸ By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life.

⁹ I say to God my Rock,
    “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
    oppressed by the enemy?”
¹⁰ My bones suffer mortal agony
    as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”

¹¹ Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.

Why are you downcast, oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me? God's only one small step away. 

Wordless Wednesday