It’s dark, it’s inconsistent, it’s frustrating. Seemingly popping in unannounced and wrecking havoc on your spirit. It’s amazing to me how incredibly sensitive our bodies and brains can be. I am always amazed at the biological response to hormonal swings, triggers, and emotional circumstances. Our Father has made me increasingly aware of the intricacy and finite detail of our whole being.
However, I’ve failed to recognize how, although I “feel” a certain way, and my hormones tell me that I’m angry for no good reason, I tend to quickly forget that I have a choice. And let’s be honest, will there really be any need for hormones in heaven? I’m assuming due to the fall, we have Eve to blame for our irrational out-bursts and hormonally induced depression, PMS break outs, and painful cycles. Someday, none of this will matter (Thank you S for putting it so perfectly in our convo the other day!).
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.
For the last several months I have noticed a pattern I have fallen into. Depression sets in about half way through my cycle (completely triggered by hormonal changes and the all too familiar reminders that no, I’m not pregnant) and I allow myself to wallow in it, forgetting that I was not intended to feel this way. I GET to choose. Even when my body is dragging behind me, and the tears tend to spring up easily, I don’t have to stay there. For many many months now I’ve haven’t done a single thing to pluck myself out of it. I played the blame game: “I’m broken”, “It must be the progesterone”, “Maybe I just won’t ever get over my loss”, “I’ll never get out of this hole, so why even try”. I’ve called it the drippy faucet before. This isn’t a new thing to struggle with for me. I’ve battled many forms of depression, anxiety, and fear before. I would say this has been something I’ve flopped back and forth on and with each loss I’ve revisited this topic. My last loss was 6 months ago (holy crap…) almost to the day, and I’ve found that the last 6 months have been a straight up battle to keep myself half way sane. I think because it’s become so familiar, I’ve found it almost comforting that I know exactly when to expect this cloud to start hanging over my head. And truthfully, there’s a sick and twisted part of me that doesn’t want it to change. I’ve been so mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted (this girl needs a serious vacay!)that changing it means that I need to put forth more effort and if I happen to fail at that effort, I beat myself up.
1 John 3:20
If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.
This month, I am choosing something different. I’m often reminding myself to look for the little things that bring joy to me. I’ll admit, I’m struggling with the heaviness. Especially this month, as we’ve decided to move forward with an RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist – LOVE him!…We’ve kept this a secret from nearly everyone, I am well into my first round of treatments and this whole let’s shoot you up with hormones thing sucks, more on this later) I still cry at the thought of my sweet Colton, and my two other precious little ones, I cry at our situations, the diagnosis’, the frustration is real and present I’m tellin’ ya, but I don’t have to do anything with it. I can keep choosing to walk in the light. I can keep choosing to find something, perhaps small and insignificant to you, but joyful in the moment to me. I have propped verses up at my desk and a mantra on my screen of my phone.
It’s time to break this pattern and put forth the effort because it will be fruitful. How could it not?
So, the little things huh? Here’s what I’ve Found so far:
I thought my African violet was nearly dead. It hasn’t bloomed or had any such growth since the day we lost Colton. In fact the whole plant itself went wilty and pathetic looking. I thought for certain she was a goner. I was over joyed to not only see new growth but 4(!!!!) little buds taking form. For six long months I’ve been crawling my way up this hill and today I’ve decided to stand up and give my tush a nice work out and friggin’ climb this beast like I mean business.
RPL has stolen a lot from me, and I’ve been gullible enough to believe that those dreams are gone forever. Shame on me for forgetting that My God is bigger and has made a way for the impossible to be completely possible, and quite easy to Him.