Dear Depressed Me,
I love you. But I haven’t always loved you like this. I used to struggle with accepting who you were. I used to love you partially—with some reservations and hesitancies. I used to dislike you. Resent you at times, even. But my love for you is different now. It’s deeper and fuller.
It’s been a journey, of course. I’ve had a lot of help along the way. God, in his grace and mercy, has brought a lot of healing to me in this process. Much of it has been through other people: my husband, our family, my counsellor and a handful of friends.
Because of you, I am more grounded in where my identity and value lie. Things you feel ashamed of, such as your inability to get out of bed some days, or your lack of productivity, have forced me to examine whether my worth comes from how much I can do. You have pointed me to the truth that Christ says I am valuable. And that’s that. You’ve taught me how to live in that truth.
Your limited capacity has been the cause of some angst for me. Your neediness has pushed me to ask for help. It’s been a struggle to put aside my pride and experience the beauty of accepting help from others. To truly live in community. To be seen and to be known. You’ve shown me that it’s okay if I can’t do it all myself. That there is grace, even for me. And that we all have our turn to be carried.
In the process of figuring out who you were, I had to seriously consider who I was made to be. I was reminded afresh that I must feed my creative spirit with regular times to paint and write—even if it means scheduling it into my calendar as if it were a work project. I also rediscovered the calming effect that putting jigsaw puzzles together has on me. And the energizing effect Zumba dancing has.
Continue reading this post at SheLoves Magazine.