Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Terrifying Truth

Good evening to all my lovely viewers. It's been a rough night for me. But anyways, tonight's post is going to revolve around the cold, hard truth about this life and the way depression loves to work (at least how it likes to work for me).

I'm going to start off with saying something brutally honest: This life is hard.

How many times has this phrase crossed my mind? In the past year, at least a billion. You know why? Because we are surrounded by sin. By the mistakes of others and ourselves that all went against the will of God. You can't log onto Facebook without seeing another update about the terrible things going on in this country and across the world. This universe is filled with tears, death, and heartbreak. Looking at my own life, there is so much destruction. I was an "accident" baby, brought into the world by two people who chose drugs and alcohol over their own daughter. I was placed into a loving home, and was a foster sister to a handful of babies, who all got put back home. I finally got a little brother, but grew up to be bullied all through middle school. Left out, called "fat" and a "slut." My grandma died and then when I was in 7th grade my depression started as a seed and grew into a vicious vine of thistles and thorns at the end of my sophomore year. My dad's mistakes put my family in a hard place, love was hard, and my heart was broken because I was let down by a handful of boys, and now my father. My dad gave up on us and before you knew it, I had shaking hands holding a bottle of pills ready to call it quits. Not once, but twice. It was like my life had a dark lens over my eyes and all I knew was tears and the need to die.

And for those of us with mental illness, not only are we fighting the daily struggles of life, but the internal battle within ourselves. I firmly believe that without my faith, my mind has potential to be a scary place. While it holds creativity, intelligence, and some general beauty, there are days when I am afraid of myself. What I am capable of doing to myself. And perhaps not so much what I am capable of, but what the devil is capable of. I remember I told you last week about when it all "came back", and that was when I realized how fearful I am.

To me, my depression is something that is separate from me. It doesn't define me, but it does like to control a very big part of my life. It likes to take me on my happiest days and throw me to the ground. It can take me from smiles to tears in an instant. Somebody can say one thing in the wrong tone to me, and because I'm suddenly so sensitive, my depression paralyzes me and I'm usually shut down the rest of the day. In all honesty, my depression makes my life even harder than it was supposed to be in the first place.

On top of it, let's add the anxiety. The real fear that takes my breath away, makes my palms sweaty, and captures any words that I need to say. I struggle to look for the last ounce of hope inside of me to pray. And some days it gets to the point where my friend Melody has to pray for me because I can't seem to do it myself. My anxiety gives me this feeling as though I'm drowning because I'm just trapped in a pool of fear with no way out.

I wish somebody would have warned me about it all. Warned me about the rough future I would face when I was a little girl. I'm not sure what I could have done to prepare myself. Because as of right now, I hold on tight to the people around me because they are my support. Without my mom's love today, I'm not sure I'd be alive, along with my best friend.

I'm sorry this post had such a sad tone to it, but I had a lot of feelings to get out there tonight. But I guess it's a part of growing up and God shaping me into the beautiful human I can be at the end of it all. And tonight, although I cry, I try to rest firm in knowing that He will provide for me, calm my fears, and take care of me. Now and forever. Because He the beauty in this world of dark colors and sin...

...and the calming presence to my stormy sea,
Marissa Mayer
xoxo

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