there's a place in the clouds
where the sun always shines
where the love and the laughter
grow wild on the vines
where there ain't any heartache
and there ain't any pain
there's a place in the clouds
where it's never gonna rain
where nobody's loney
and nobody cries
there'll be no more tears upon your face
where one color only and hope never dies
oh how I long to see that place
- Joey+Rory
How many times do tears wet your cheeks as you lay down after another long day? How many times does your heart hurt, your mind swirling with questions and fears? Monthly? Weekly? Daily?
I'm going to admit something. Admit something that has been eating me inside. Something that I have said out loud, but not truly let myself feel.
I'm not okay.
Just typing those words caused all those fears and questions to swirl. The thoughts I've been thinking of myself coming back. Shouting and pointing. Accusing. Demanding I backspace this whole thing and forget about blogging ever again.
I used to love writing. It was a passion of mine. Watching those words flow from my finger tips as if they had a life of their own. Feeling the amazement when I was finished, wondering how those words ever came from me.
Reading.
There once was a time where I always had a book in my hand. Or sitting beside me. I couldn't wait to pick it back up and see what would happen next.
Dreaming.
This trait I believe I got from my Mother. She was a dreamer, still is actually, and she always said it was a wonderful thing to dream. Though I always knew "Thy will be done" it was so much fun. Dreaming about home and babies. Growing my own garden and having a pretty little farmhouse with a barn not to far away. Of puppies and apple trees. Mountains and rolling hills. Oh the fantasies I had.
As you all know, I did meet my prince charming and he swept me off my feet. I fall more madly in love with that guy every single day. I could go on and on about how sweet, caring, compassionate, understanding, patient, and funny he is... but I suppose I shall just stop there. *smiles*
Josiah has been my leaning post through everything. I can't tell you how many times he just holds me and lets me cry and blubber like a little girl. I think I have broken the record for how often I have a melt down. Far to often.
As you all know, I recently married and moved very far from my home and family. It was hard. Very hard. I think perhaps it has been one of the hardest things I have ever been through. And I have been through a lot.
As I said above, I'm not okay. And I am finally, and extremely slowly, beginning to accept that.
I'm not okay.
I get a lot of people asking me, "how do you like New Hampshire?" or "How have you been?" to which I usually answer "It's alright." and "Pretty good" as I put a smile on my face. When in reality, I was hurting inside. Aching for home. Wishing so badly I could turn around and run. Tell them... I hate it. Oh it hurts me inside to even type those words. I can't tell you how many dreams I have had while I slept at night where I am sobbing and telling someone "I hate it!"
I'd awaken feeling guilty as I turned to see my husband sleeping beside me. My husband who tries so hard to make me happy and who's only desire is to do God's will. I'd push those feelings inside and call myself every name I could think of. I should be ashamed for thinking those words. Even if they were a dream.
Feelings and thoughts and hurts pilled higher and higher until they exploded and I have another round of tears on my husbands shoulder. Whimpering and crying. Falling asleep, and awakening with so much guilt I could physically feel it in my chest. Ashamed for the things I said in my pain. Struggling to get out of bed, and start another day.
I had people telling me that I was depressed, but I didn't want to fully accept it. It was wrong of me to wish for something I don't have. It was wrong of me to want to live somewhere else.
God brought you here.
Accept it.
Move on.
Only, I couldn't move on. And I couldn't accept it. I began to become numb. I didn't dream any more. For dreams were silly. We must desire what God wants and that's it. End of story.
Days get longer and harder. We have been having a very wet summer, something I am not accustomed to, which I feel caused me to fall even more depressed. I barely seen the sunshine. I never go outside. I stay cooped up in my little apartment, alone, silent, and lonely.
But, you know what? I began to have no desire to see anyone. Do anything. I wanted to stay hidden forever. If I had to live here, fine. But I had no desire to accept that fact. None.
When you are alone as much as I am, you can't help but think. Oh, the thoughts you can think. The nasty things you can tell yourself in the silence of your room. The pain you can cause yourself.
You are unworthy of God's love and your husbands.
You are a failure.
You are a disappointment to everyone around you.
Just knock it off and be happy.
God brought you here, stop wishing to go home.
Accept your life as it is.
You ungrateful human.
See how much you're hurting your husband? He's trying so hard. Just stop it already.
Every one thinks your a immature little brat.
Grow up already.
Deal with it.
Accept it. Now.
Let me tell you, when someone (even yourself) tells you something long enough. You believe it. With everything in you.
I no longer dreamed. I no longer wanted. And worst of all, I no longer prayed.
I felt so hurt, and so low, that I no longer felt worthy to pray. To ask. God knows best. I am here for a reason. How dare I pray that I could go home. So, I just didn't pray anymore. Not really on purpose. It just began to happen. I felt to unworthy. God would control my life, and I would just put one foot in front of the other.
Depression became my daily companion. But then came along their friend anxiety, and it was then I realized I couldn't keep doing what I was doing.
Along with everything going on, my health also began to decline. We got on a diet and I was feeling a little better. Still, I had no energy. No desire to get out of bed. Or move from my couch.
Then came the anxiety and near panic attacks. First they started just whenever we drove on freeways or in heavy traffic. Then in large crowds. Then just last week I began having them at home, in my bed. I couldn't breathe. I felt panic. I began to cry and tell my husband, "I think I'm losing my mind."
My mind swirled and swirled with thoughts. I'd wish I could go home, then panic that I thought that. Then wish it again. Then panic. I felt ashamed. Then, I began to pray. I didn't know what to pray for. All I could manage to think was,
Help me.
Hold me.
Heal me.
Over and over I thought those three sentences. I began to blurt out the shameful thoughts I had bottled inside. The hate. The hurt. The regrets. The fears.
And I finally let myself truly say it.
I'm not okay.
I need help. I need prayers. I can no longer bare this burden on my own. I need to drop it at the feet of Jesus, and leave it there. I am not sure how to do that, but I ask for prayers that I may learn.
I'm not okay, but I will be. I have an amazing husband, parents, siblings, and friends who love me. Who pray for me. And who encourage me to continue on.
Ever since I finally let myself accept the fact that I need help. That it is okay to pray that I go home. Praying doesn't mean I am demanding God to take me home. I am just expressing to Him how my heart feels. Being open and honest with myself. And allowing myself to hurt, so that I may heal.
there's a friend that I know
He's never far away
He always holds my hand
when my life begins to sway
I may not be okay, but I know with my Jesus and my loved ones, I will be.
