I think a common misconception about depression is that it doesn't actually hurt. Oh contraire...It hurts a lot. It's not just tears and sadness. It's pain. Pain that no medication can truly touch. Dull the edges, maybe. But make it "better"? No way.
I'm fortunate that I can consider myself a survivor of depression. A casualty that didn't stay down. For a very long time, too long, I let that demon have me.
"Normal" people (that's what I like to call them) seem to think that one can walk away from depression bearing no physical scars or signs of wear. I beg to differ. Wounds glossed over, un-stitched, hidden, covered, unspoken. The remains of your life, unmatched and scattered. Maybe it's not what the illness does to us so much as what it causes us to do to ourselves.
I don't usually show people my scar....the one I commissioned and paid for and had placed over my left shoulder....on the same side as my heart but behind me thinking no one would see. I'm not proud of it.
When your heart and mind are clouded, sometimes you don't think about what may lie ahead. If there even is anything ahead. Something better. Anything better. If you will ever be better.
The tattoo that served as her burial ground....the one I thought would make me feel better....or make me feel pain....or something, anything....will have to be seen on my sister's wedding day. That beautiful dress, a berry shade of wine, so pretty by itself, doesn't hide that painful scar. I hate it now. It's no longer a symbol of love or remembrance for me. It's a symbol of sickness and self-hatred. Punishment for something I couldn't prevent. An internal struggle that seeps through my skin.
It's a scar. The remnants of a battle fought unwillingly. It's just ink to some. Red and black, purple, green, and blue. But to me it's a bruise that won't fade. A reminder not of the baby I thought it represented, but of the subsequent sickness that nearly took me down.
In a way, I guess it can also be a reminder of grace. A reminder that once you're down, you don't have to stay there. Sometimes you have to wait it out. But you can get back up. And you can bare your scars when necessary.
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By His stripes, we are healed.
ReplyDeleteYou do have a scar. But what is more important is that YOU have a scar. Which means you are still here. And that wound didn't take you. It only gave you a scar.
And one day, my friend, our bodies will be perfectly healed. Scars will be gone!
Let it be a symbol of grace. Because if I saw it in your sister's wedding, I would smile at God's goodness to get you through that time and his goodness in filling your arms with little ones.
Thanks for being so open.
My sweet friend, you are on my mind and in my heart daily. I love you, Britt!
ReplyDeleteWell said Brittany! We all have our own "scars". I like reading your blog.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ginger :)
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