My Shadows started following me in October 2015 after my roommate moved out. She was living with me for a year before she was able to get her own apartment, and in that time we both were working through personal issues. Hers I will keep silent about, but my own were a recent breakup from a guy I had seriously dated for 2.5 years and a severe faith struggle that caught up with me a few months later. (Read my earlier entries if you want to get caught up.) It was an emotionally and spiritually jarring time for me, and when there are severe life changes or occurrences that cause negative effects, it's like a breeding ground for the Shadows to move in and set up a concrete-based camp. They say, "We're not going anywhere for a while. In fact, we plan on staying. [Shadows toss loaded luggage to the ground]" What I can remember about that October was the slow fade into constant fatigue. Time spent with my favorite people and closest friends turned into a battle to stay focused and engaged in conversation, and I may as well have carried toothpicks in my purse to hold my eyelids open. All I could look forward to was going home and hitting the hay. My mood, work ethic, and general demeanor felt cloudy. Lack of focus dominated friendships as well as work, it turns out. I wanted to feel happy and motivated again, but it was like someone tied an anchor or an anvil around my ankles, tossed me in a deep body of water, and told me to swim for my life. Successfully I kept my head above water but it required a lot of effort, and everyone else appeared to have an effortlessly upbeat life.
There was a time around January or so in which the Shadows disappeared entirely; then they came back with a vengeance in February when 2016 started to fight dirty. Work continued to become more stressful; someone I considered a forever friend walked out of my life after a minor bump in our friendship; plans to run the Derby City mini marathon were cancelled due to consistent sickness during my training; attempts to search for a new career path led to another closed door, as Counseling was the only thing that interested me, but I realized the emotional toll it would take on me in the short and long term; illnesses of various kinds popped up more often than ever (including what I think was a minor bout with mono. I missed the Coldplay concert because of it.); a failed attempt or two at some potential romances; and a work schedule that was (is) crazy enough to have me working as late as 10pm and starting as early as 5 in the morning some days (I had, and still have, no sleep cycle). It was a lot of crap that was relentlessly being dumped on me over the course of the year. I started feeling worthless, hopeless, hypocritical, like a failure who couldn't even reach her goals; if I was the terrible co-worker, friend, daughter, Christian that I thought I was, why was I sticking around?
I stayed in bed a long time one morning in August before my work shift began and contemplated ending it. The problem was, I didn't actually want to do anything about it, as any option I could think of sounded too painful; however, if I got cancer, forget about fighting it. Let it take me. I didn't ask for this life; I didn't sign up for it, so riding this toxic roller coaster isn't fair, and don't want to ride on this anymore. I want to get off. . . . But the only way to get off the ride is to jump. I don't want to jump. But the open space just outside the roller coaster car sure did look more inviting than it ever had before. That scared the hell out of me.
Eventually I got out of bed, dressed myself, and went to work. When mom stopped by to see me that afternoon, she greeted me with her typical cheery, "Hello!" and a hug. I tried to keep myself together, but my chin quivered and after a time I broke down in tears, right there in the middle of the sales floor. I told her everything I had been thinking and feeling as of late and how overwhelming life seemed to be. She listened with her typical long-suffering ears as I blubbered on; then she suggested I talk to someone -- a counselor -- who could help me process everything.
She passed on to me the name of a woman who has since been my Psychologist, and I'm doing much better. It's been some kind of an arm wrestling match between me and why my imbalanced brain want me to believe, but I am doing better. Parents and close friends are worth their weight in gold, I tell you. They will remind you why they think you are awesome and worthy of being loved when you forget, and they encourage you to take care of yourself, while making sure you actually do so. And my counselor has been a godsend for me. She has helped me work through a lot of the issues that not only hounded me this past year, but enabled me to confront old scars and properly address them so they could be healed. It's probably a huge jump for me to say, "Yeah, life was terrible for a long time. Then bingbangboom everything's good again!" Nope. For a month or month and a half I was meeting with my counselor once a week; when we weren't meeting, I was processing our session and finding the loose end of the knots we pulled out so I could begin to untie them for good. It was work, but it was worthwhile, and it felt good. It's taken wrestling with those Shadows, even after my counselor said we could start spacing out our meetings a little more. (That meant progress, though!) It meant asking for prayer from friends and family, challenging myself to spend time with people when I really wanted to be a reclusive shut-in.
It continues to mean those things even now. Everyday challenges can be a little heaver for me than for someone who doesn't suffer the clingy Shadows; I'm learning to celebrate the victories, though, and it's a lesson I hope I never forget. (I don't think I will.) I'm on track to get medication for this Thing that follows me around, and maybe that will finally tell my demons to shut the hell up. Mostly, though, I am thankful that God has put incredible people into my life to guide me where I should go/be, be they parents, friends, counselors, a dental hygienist who talked with me about Beth Moore Bible studies (Not a joke!), or old and new friends and acquaintances who have walked where I have walked and still are trucking right along. I'm not same person who once had weightless, carefree happiness that didn't come with a price tag -- I don't think she ever will return without the aid of pharmaceuticals -- but that's okay. My journey thus far has made me stronger, a fighter in some respects, and in a warped way I'm truly facing up to my own worth and owning it. Through all of it, God never abandoned me, even when all I could see was the darkness as black as pitch.
Isaiah 61
