Owning It

Lately, life for me has been unrelenting.  In fact, I can't really remember the last time it wasn't so.

I try to keep things in perspective. 

I acknowledge that there is so much that is good and wonderful in my life. 

I work hard to keep from feeling sorry for myself.

I try to keep my heart in check when it comes to comparing myself to others, because I know that the large majority of the world suffers.  Really, truly suffers.

And I do not.  

Not in comparison anyway.

And yet here I sit.

I'm trying not to be overly dramatic.  But...

I'm depleted.  

And I'm owning it.  

Owning my frustration.  Owning my exhaustion.  Owning my disappointment.  Owning my sadness.  

I'm sad that my son has autism.  I'm sad that he has to work so hard to exist in our world.  I'm sad that his little heart and mind are clogged with sensory processing challenges, missed social cues, learning challenges, and so much more.  I'm sad that he struggles to connect with his family, and I'm sad that it hurts their hearts when he can't.  I'm frustrated by the limitations autism places on my family.

I'm exhausted by the demands of our schedule.  I have a minimum of SEVEN appointments to make a week.  Therapy for Davy.  Therapy for me.  And I'm frustrated because this schedule makes it difficult for me to do all the other things I need and want to do.  

I'm sad to be 45 years old and in constant pain.  I'm frustrated by the limitations my pain places on my life.  On the lives of my children and my husband.

I'm sad that the above often keeps me from enjoying so much of the good that is around me all the time.


I'm owning my frustration, my exhaustion, my sadness.


It's scary to do this.  It feels like an act of betrayal.  Like I'm doing something wrong.  Like I'm forgetting how good God is and how much good there is in my life.

But... 

I've been here before.

I know what it is.

Depression.

I've tried to steel myself against it.  I've tried to muster the strength to push it away.

I want to be able to access all that I know God has available to me in this life, and I want my faith in God to give me what I need to rise above my circumstances.

Actually, I want my faith in God to CHANGE my circumstances.  

But that's not my reality.  

In the last few months, those tell-tale signs of depression have resurfaced.  The weight on my chest.  The sleep struggles.  The shaking hands.


A wake-up call.

I'm owning it.

It's me recognizing that I can't do it.  I can't be full of faith enough.  I can't be connected to God enough.

I'm not enough.


But His presence is.

The Bible is full of stories of men and women in desperate circumstances whose cries for God's help are met with His intervention.  His rescue.

It's also full of stories of men and women in desperate circumstances whose cries for God's help are met instead with His presence.  HIS PRESENCE.  

His presence brings comfort.  His presence brings peace.  His presence brings joy.  His presence brings strength.


I'm owning my frailty.  I'm owning my disappointment that my circumstances are what they are and that rescue is not likely.  I'm owning the sadness that often comes over me.

And owning all this is opening my heart to His presence.

When I said, "My foot is slipping," Your love, O Lord, supported me.  

When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.

Psalm 94:18-19

Rescue would be nice.

But His presence is better.