It’s obviously been a really long time since I’ve written anything. For many of you who know me personally, you know it’s been a year and one-half of transitions and roller coasters. Some of which I’ll be unpacking here in the upcoming weeks, but for those of you who are taking the time to read this, thank you. Thank you for being willing to jump back into this world of written thoughts and unpacking life events with me.
2019, although it has brought some incredible blessings to us like our son, Isaiah, and Aaron’s new job, has not been an easy year for the Brown family… in all transparency, we have both stated it’s been the hardest year of our marriage. Lately I’ve been convicted that I most connect with stories of realness, and I find a deep sense of relief and encouragement when reading about someone’s journey that mirrors my own. However, I haven’t yet shared my own struggles of this year that might be a source of relief for another woman walking through this same season. If you are entering this Christmas season feeling like this year has taken more out of you than you ever could have imagined, take heart. You’re not alone. “Lord, something has to give.” I’ve prayed that line many, many times since this summer, literally begging God for a reprieve from the anxiety and depression that descended on me in July. An illness that my medication helps but doesn’t purge. This isn’t my first experience with depression and anxiety, but this past July the mental battle hit the hardest it ever has. To be honest, I’m still trying to wade through the depression side of it. God hasn’t healed me the way I begged him to. Depression and anxiety doesn’t always look like the commonly known symptoms. My depression doesn’t involve deep sadness and tears. My anxiety doesn’t induce panic attacks. In my life, depression is small things feeling overwhelming. I heard of friend of mine say “It’s all I can do to get myself ready to go, much less anyone else.” That resonated with me. Normal tasks can feel like impossible battles because of the energy required to complete them. Some days, it’s as small as finding out my husband is stuck in traffic and will be 30 minutes later than expected. The thought of being on “kid duty” alone for an extra 30 minutes feels like an impossible amount of expectation, weight, and energy on my shoulders. More than once, the television has been my go-to because my brain couldn’t compute enough to find an activity for them and my body couldn’t make myself sit on the floor and referee the play time. Then there’s my struggle with anxiety. For me, anxiety is a mental ambush happening again, and again, and again. It’s a self-condemning of my past and my possible mistake-filled future. It’s fear that the anxiety will never stop. It’s replaying the highlight reel of my worst moments and my shameful thoughts. Quite simply it results in being terrified to think. There’s no “safe place,” no “place of refuge” because the battle is all in my mind. I never know when a thought or fear will pop in and send me spiraling. No spa day or self-care day fixes this. Charles Spurgeon, a renown pastor in the 1800’s said it this way: The mind can descend far lower than the body, for in it there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour. Tears came to my eyes the first (and second) time that I read that description. Finally, words to describe the mental toll that anxiety took. I remember reading that quote to my husband, fighting back tears, to help give him a glimpse of what my brain felt like on days that had been wracked with attacks of anxious thoughts. I can’t help but believe that I’m not alone in. Maybe you’re feeling the same but have been hesitant to talk to a doctor? Maybe you’ve told yourself as I did for so long, that I just needed to catch up on rest, on my quiet times, on ________ to feel like your old self again. Maybe you know this struggle all too well. Maybe this season with lights, laughter and songs instead brings you thoughts of fear, failure, and shame. I get it. For the next few weeks, I’m going to share pieces of my journey in my battle of anxiety and depression in hopes that my story can bring you the same sense of relief and understanding that others’ stories have brought me. If you’re in the middle of the battle, take courage. God is with you even now. Even in the mess. The exhaustion. The shame. The frustration. I’ve come to have such an incredible love for God’s name Immanuel. Knowing that God is with me when I sit on my couch for longer than I should, knowing that God is with me when I can’t muster up the energy I need, knowing that God is with me when Satan recounts my worst thoughts and my most heart-breaking decisions, is something I have clung to this season. Hallelujah, God is with me, even in this. That doesn’t always change how I feel in the moment, but it is a truth that I rest my weary heart on.
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“Mirror Mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” How many thousands of times have I mentally asked that question to the mirror in my bathroom. Oh, it sounds a little different, but the root question is the same. It usually goes something like this: “Hmmm… I wonder if this shirt hides my stomach well enough?” “Sarah’s so pretty. She could pull this off much better than I am…” One night years ago is forever imprinted on my brain because of a conversation with several friends. One of the girls there explained that she had a major crush on a boy that we knew. She ended the story with, “It’s not like he’s ever going to look at me. He’s out of my league.” That night we tried to convince my friend otherwise, but she wouldn’t budge. Her mind was made. She had asked her mirror that morning like every morning before, and she was told no, she wasn’t the fairest of them all. I will always remember that night because I remember thinking as she spoke that I’ve said those exact same words. So many of us have said it. Thought it. Hated it. Believed it. The struggle does not end when we graduate from high school, college, become a “grown-up,” or get married. There’s always a mirror to look into. Always a girl to compare to. The question varies with our current season. It’s not always about our appearance. Satan, the author of comparison, uses a variety of weapons to drive the feelings of inadequacy home. Sometimes we question our calling. Our ability to raise our children. Our grades. Our faith. No matter the subject, the root is always inferiority. My most recent struggle with comparison came this month when I attended a conference for women who wanted to pursue ministry through leadership, writing, or speaking. As I met women from all over the country, and we started to share our passions, callings, and ministries, I expected the familiar twinges of inferiority and jealousy to arise. I listened to one woman who was passionate about helping women find freedom through forgiveness. One woman hoped to help better equip parents of children with special needs. Another’s heart centered around helping others find strength and joy in the face of incredible challenges. As the hours progressed, I found myself thinking how I would love to read her book once it’s written or that another woman would be a great resource for a friend in a similar situation. It struck me on that Wednesday afternoon that the world is full of women who have special circumstances and unique challenges. It was such a freeing moment to look around the circle and realize I would rather brainstorm ideas and action plans with these women than silently second guess my own goals in contrast to theirs. God gives each of us different lives, different struggles, different victories, different callings. When I look in Scripture, God didn’t use one disciple to write all of Scripture. Jesus didn’t pick just one person to carry on the faith. Instead He tells us that as Christians, we all make up the Body of Christ, the Church. We each have a unique role but the same purpose. God uses our differences to reach different people with His love and salvation. Romans 12:18-20 says But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The next time I find myself asking a question of comparison, I pray God will re-direct my thoughts to look at my arms, legs, feet, or even my elbow as a reminder that I am just one part of His body. My place in His Body was specifically designed which means my calling, gifting, appearance, and passion is no less important or more important than anyone else’s. The next time I find myself in a comparison battle, I’m going to remind myself of this truth. Although our ______ {fill in the blank: appearance, leadership style, career} might be different, our purpose is the same. I’ve struggled with accepting my personality for years. As so many of you know, I’m not the woman who is known for her gentle spirit and sweet tendencies. I’m the woman known for her sarcasm and willingness to argue a point. But so many days I’ve wished I was different. Kinder. Gentler. More soft-spoken. Less argumentative. I remember someone telling me my senior year in high school that it would take a special man to marry me because of my strong-willed nature. They maybe meant it nicer than it sounds, but it certainly didn’t seem like it in the moment… or the years afterwards. If anything, it furthered cemented the thought that had already surfaced in my mind: Being a strong-willed woman was not something to be proud of. In college, this self-consciousness about my personality only deepened. I remember cringing every time I heard the word “intimidating” because I knew that was just another reason a guy would have to not date me. My personality and sarcasm didn’t exactly scream “alluring bachelorette,” but try as I did, I could never completely hide my true self. It’s as if the part of me that spoke the truth- even when it didn’t want to be heard - refused to buckle to the pressure of being an “agreeable” single woman. Consequently, as odd as this might sound, I stayed true to myself but not necessarily because I wanted to. More because I tried to change me and just couldn’t. Now, more than 10 years later, I can finally say that I’m learning to ignore that voice from the past and embrace the way God wired my personality to roar instead of purr. A huge part of this is watching and learning from other strong-natured women; my primary examples being my mom and sister. I’ve been on the receiving end of my mom’s bold truth-telling personality and have come to be thankful for it. She has helped initiate change in her circles by her unwillingness to waiver on things she believes in. I’ve seen my sister march through periods of dismal news and little resources, yet she stays clinging to Christ more tightly than most can fathom. As I reflect on these two women, I can’t help but believe that if not for their tenacity or their strong-wills, they wouldn’t have overcome the trials they have. God gave them the tools they needed, one of which being their personality, to serve His purpose on the earth. … So, many years later in my quest for acceptance, I’m realizing there is both a reason and a need for the “intimidating” women as well as the women who are naturally welcoming. God equips us with the personality we need to work through the trials we face. Our temperament is one of the ways He takes care of us. If I believe that God created me in my mother’s womb and found it delightful to pick out my eye color, hair color, and body type, then I must also believe that he joyfully wired my personality to be as He wanted as well. (Psalm 139). Stop trying to be loud if you’re quiet; mild if you’re strong; timid if you’re fearless; extraverted if you’re an introvert. Be the woman God equipped you to be. There’s a reason for your personality. Fulfill it. |
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