Spicy Soul Survival

MAYBE THIS WILL HELP 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’m in the thick of it this week (yesterday was pretty rough; barely functional), and I feel wholly incapable of explaining to my husband exactly what is going on in my mind. From the outside, I look angry or depressed or incredibly anxious. On the inside, it’s a big tangled-up mess of ALL of that with a lot of self-loathing tossed in. He wants to help, but I have no idea what to ask for except space (and really that’s because 1. I can’t handle all of the interaction, and 2. I’m so worried I’ll say something hurtful to him or my kids). I know what I really want to do is veg out, watching my favorite shows and eating ice cream (which is exactly the opposite of what my body and mind need during this time). It’s hard to think of what might help that I would actually be willing to do in this mental state, but I wonder if writing will help me slow down the thoughts enough to start processing them. So, here we are…

In my last post, I gave a general description of what PMDD feels like for me. If you haven’t read it, here’s a snippet:

PMDD makes my mind feel like every thought is swirling around me, and I can’t grab on to the right one. It feels like there are shadows lurking around every corner of my mind, waiting to pounce on me, and it feels like the people I love the most are the enemy. Every unexpected noise feels as loud and startling as a gunshot, and my children tapping me on the arm feels as offensive as if they had punched me instead. Every question feels like an interrogation, and every bit of clutter feels like an assault on my senses. It is a horrible way to live. I don’t wish it on anyone.  …when I am in the thick of it, I believe that is all my life is – being assailed by my family and my environment. I don’t even have the clarity of mind to wait in hope for the respite that is coming.

 Have you ever read or heard that verse from the Bible – “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;”? It’s from Psalm 23, which is probably the most well-known and quoted psalm. Have you ever thought about what it means? I decided to read a bit from a commentary by Matthew Henry just to make sure I wasn’t entirely off with my application of this psalm to my own current circumstances. I think that the darkness of mental struggles like PMDD very much feel like “the valley of the shadow of death.” It is suffering, and while my life may not be in imminent danger, there is the feeling of the deep dark valley of thinking non-existence might be better. It is the shadow that looms and envelopes my mind and my self so closely that I can physically sense the pressure.

But can I tell you something? When I sat down to pour my jumbled thoughts out onto the page, I didn’t have a plan. I just came, hoping that doing some writing would help me sort through the mess. I didn’t have this verse in my mind at all. I believe it came from the Holy Spirit, whispering a reminder to my soul that Jesus IS the Good Shepherd, and I am his sheep – helpless to do anything for myself but safe and held in His arms of love, even in this valley of the shadow of death. Psalm 23 tells me that He is with me, even as I walk through this suffering. It doesn’t always feel like He’s there, but I choose to trust that He is, and that He certainly knows what suffering feels like.

I know that He is the reason my husband can be strong for me, not shying away from the hard work of caring for me or from the confusion of not knowing exactly how to help me, and picking up the slack with caring for the kids when things get too hard for me. He is the reason that REFIT helps me feel better, even though I really don’t want to go. He’s the reason that an unexpected phone call from a friend (in the middle of writing this) with an invitation to get coffee can pull me up out of it a little more. He’s the reason that sitting down to write any of this actually has helped me to feel better.

I remember telling God yesterday, when things were worse, that I don’t know how to sit with Him. I don’t know how to listen for Him…but every time I sit at my computer to write, even when I think to myself “I don’t have a neat little bow to tie this up with at the end…”, it comes anyway – some encouragement, some tie back to how His work in my life and in my heart are the reason I don’t have to abide in despair. It helps me remember, and so I hope it also helps you. If you don’t think you know how to listen for Him, if you want hope and don’t know where to find it, just ask Him. He’s waiting for you with open arms, like a long-lost friend, to scoop you up and hold you tight.

Thanks for “listening.” If you want to read any of the commentary on Psalm 23, you can find it here.