Death to Life

In November of 2017 depression sidelined me swiftly and unexpectedly. I had just finished running my first half marathon when I felt the darkness creeping in, only a few days after completing the race. I had trained well, met all my personal goals, and bounced back, physically, but emotionally all I felt was sadness. I've experienced seasons of depression before, but this was the first time I couldn't put my finger on precisely why I was feeling so down: there was no break-up to blame it on, no death, or loss in my life. By all accounts my life was beautiful, but in the weeks after the race my mind and my heart progressively grew darker.

My only goal during this time was to keep "showing up" whenever I could. It was mostly in small ways that felt huge: getting out of bed in the morning, making a lunch for Hudson (who was still home with me at just three years old), taking a shower, running or working out, reading a bedtime story to the kids, and repeatedly praying desperate prayers for deliverance - doing all the things I knew to keep myself from spiraling further into the pit.

I can remember a particularly desperate night, a couple months in, where I felt absolutely gripped by one thought, "This is never going to end and you are always going to feel this way...to BE this way." The lie had taken root: depression fundamentally defined me. Tim held me and spoke truth into my heart - "this is not who you are, it won't always be this way, you're going to be alright..."
All these things were true, it just took a while to let the truth wash over the lies that played on repeat in my mind. All. Day. Long.

Tim was amazing. He shouldered so much of the burden and supported me endlessly and patiently during this time. He helped me find a counselor and he alerted my closest friends. He took care of the kids and juggled two jobs. He cared for me so well.

Since that time I've recognized that depression and anxiety have been a part of my life, both manifesting themselves in various forms, since I was a child. I've dealt with it all before and even since then, but I think my life was finally settled enough for it to pop up without a particular "cause" to which I could attribute my feelings. I found it much harder to accept the depression when it could not be clearly connected to an event or situation; for me, this felt more like something was inherently wrong with me when I couldn't blame it on circumstance.

It would take a whole blog to write all the things that contributed to my restoration. Verse after verse in Scripture came to my attention in new ways during this time. I grew closer to God than ever before. The verses that spoke the loudest inspired my tattoo, which I got the following spring. Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels - a plentiful harvest of new lives. Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity. Anyone who wants to be my disciple must follow me, because my servants must be where I am. And the Father will honor anyone who serves me." John 12:24-26

The picture of life out of death is one I've lived, and I've found that life comes most plentifully from the dying; this is true of my depression. Life feels fullest after the darkness and God, in His strange economy, continues to use the ugliest things in life to make beauty for myself, for others, and for His glory. And what better to memorialize this lesson than the ultimate example of life coming out of death - the words of Jesus predicting his own death on the cross. I continue to see a personal harvest come from my depression and anxiety. The lessons I learn from these painful seasons are imprinted on my heart and my mind, like my tattoo, and like the example of my Savior.