Sixteen years ago I spent my nights working on a puzzle into the wee hours of the morning. While I should have been resting for school the next day (I was only seventeen), my mind was too busy for sleep.
We don’t suffer from it but we often suffer because of it.
We are the ones who see the darkest parts of what depression does to a person. We have sat for hours in beds, on the floor & in bathtubs with it.
I grew up in an environment where complaining was considered “expression” right along with curse-words.
We are afraid, somewhere deep down, that we will be intentionally left out, neglected, or worse… that no one will even see us.
When we are alone, the parts that are still to be healed, loved, and resurrected are undeniable. Whereas, when we are surrounded by people and busied with our many activities, it is all too easy to suppress our deficiency.
It was me who, even after being given an incredible gift of faith in Jesus Christ, had to face down these demons once again hiding in my bathroom, wallowing in loneliness…