Tuesday, September 2, 2014

So I Write...

One of the things that I have always loved most about blogging was the ability to encourage someone else. That's always been a really big deal to me...to be able to make a difference in someone else's life. But its hard to encourage others when you can't find the strength to encourage yourself.

If you've ever been there, you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you haven't, then consider yourself fortunate.

That place where you ask why far more than you should. That place where you have more questions than answers. That place where you feel useless & invisible to everyone around you. That place where sleeping brings peace. That place where the darkness finally overtakes the light.

That's not a fun place to be. Many people struggle with depression the majority of their lives & have a hard time admitting it, let alone overcoming it.

For some time now, I have struggled with my role as a wife, a mother, a Christian, & a friend. I have struggled with trust, obedience, joy, & love. I have wondered why we were spinning our wheels in a church that was dead set on standing still. I have wondered if my "wondering" was hindering it even more. We have struggled more financially than we ever have before. I have repeatedly asked the question of going back to work for a few extra dollars, knowing that the majority of it would only cover day care expenses. I have questioned what more could I have done to help my struggling reader. I have found people that I thought I could open up to, only to have them turn their backs on me & my family. I have dealt with enough teen attitude to last me my entire life & that road has only just begun. I have nursed a sick child over & over & over again with the same problems.

And through it all, I have felt utterly A L O N E.

I know that Jesus was carrying me, but I couldn't feel Him. I know that my husband was there beside me, but he was dealing with the same burdens. He didn't need my worries & fears compounding his. I know that I have a few friends I can talk to, but its so hard for me to trust after I have been repeatedly stabbed in the back.

Oh, I talk to people, but 99% of them have only scratched the surface with me. I CAN'T let them in.

So I write. I can spill my heart out here because I'm not confiding in one single person who might lift me up today & tear me down tomorrow. I write, not knowing who exactly reads this & not worrying about what they may think. I write, in the hopes that someone somewhere can identify, can grow from my mistakes, my pain. I write, because its so much easier than talking.

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