Time

Now I wish I had done a better job with my “journaling medicine.” Maybe a spoonful of sugar would have helped. It’s been hanging there like a dark cloud above my head…something else to do. Should I or shouldn’t I? Do I really need to? Today I decided that I could.


I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like sitting in your favorite restaurant, not really caring that you’re there, staring at the menu and just not being able to make a simple decision about what to order. It’s like staring at your computer at work and just bursting in to tears for no apparent reason at all. It’s like just wanting to sleep all the time and just wishing the world would go away. But yet, somehow, someway, you find that inner strength that you just knew you didn’t have anymore, to get up, pull yourself together for the sake of your child and husband and head off to the shower to let the water mix with the tears of failure, defeat, and utter despair. It’s hiding the tears with makeup and a new hair style to cover the brokenness inside. After all, the show must go on. It’s called: rock bottom and nobody knows you’ve hit it but you.


The first time I knew that something was wrong was when a friend at work told me, “Laura, something is wrong with you. You’re just not yourself. Maybe you should go to a doctor.” She upset me so much, that I ran out of her office and said, “I don’t want to hear it!” For the next several months, my emotions were like a roller coaster, literally. I was up – way up – and then something would happen at work, shatter my world, and I would come down – way down. The second time that I knew something was very wrong was when I missed a day of work simply because I couldn’t get out of the bed. I didn’t even call in. I just didn’t show up (not like me at all!). That was the day I wanted to run away and never come back. I couldn’t concentrate at work and most days I spent it crying into my keyboard. Eventually, I went back to my friend’s office and said, “I think something is wrong with me. I’m just not myself.” She smiled at me and asked, “Do you want me to make the call?”


That day seems like ages ago. There have been plenty of doctor’s appointments, medication and counseling. All of this has taken place over a period of about six months and, for the first time in a long time, I can say that today I finally feel like myself again. But that is just for today. Only one person knows what tomorrow will be like.


I wish I could say that I have been a strong Christian through this season in my life. We hear it preached to us all the time about how we’re suppose to draw from our faith and trust God during trials like these. Sometimes, that’s easier said than done. I simply didn’t have the desire or the will to do that. I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to think about Bible verses and I certainly didn’t feel like God was carrying me. If I felt anything, it was desertion. All I still want to know is, “why?” I may be crazy, but not crazy enough to think that the answer to that question will come on this side of Heaven.


The neatest thing that I have learned about God so far through all this is that He is a very patient God. One of best blessings He gave me was time. Time to cry, scream, kick, yell and cry some more. Time to tell Him, “I’m mad at you! Why did you do this to me? How could you?” I never once heard from Him during that period of nearly two months. I got no replies; no condemnation; no reassurances or answers to my outbursts. Nothing, but silence. I became like a worn-out two year old throwing a tantrum. Eventually, I chose the silent treatment, too. And when everything was quiet, it was then that I heard the knock on the door of my heart and the gentle whisper that said, “Laura, it’s time. It’s time to move on from this place.”