It’s been a rough season. One of those times in life when everything is wrong and out of place and sad. And you have days where its just plain hard to get up.
I was sure that everyone went through times like this, but maybe not. Because as I sat in between my rock and my hard place, I heard voices that didn’t understand. I know I wasn’t pleasant. I cried – a lot. I slept. I withdrew into my pain. I couldn’t understand myself how I could look at things I needed to do, like dishes or laundry, and just not do them. I felt unable to move.
A few reached out. Told me it wasn’t good for me to hermit myself away. Tried to get me out of my self-imposed hiding place. Mostly they failed, because I couldn’t put myself out in their world of normal. My life wasn’t normal. My life hurt. My sense of purpose was gone – so why do the dishes?
Some days were ok. Some days, I didn’t just sit watching Criminal Minds. I took a shower and cooked a meal. Some days I could talk about things without crying. Some days I had hope.
To be fair, I didn’t share my story with everyone. I didn’t want everyone to know. It would have made people look at me differently, I think. I know it would have made people see others in my life differently; given people a reason to judge and that’s not what I wanted to see happen.
After 9 long months, the darkness has lifted. Although there is joy again in Muddville, there is still a struggle. I have work to do to regain my place in the flow of life. I believe that all will be well again and these past months will soon be only a distant memory. I have hope.
If you are sitting between your rock and hard place, I have hope for you, too. And I have faith that it will only last for a season.