Sometimes I sit here and I wonder, why am I even here? Why has God left me here? So often in life I watch people get everything they want, even things that they don’t want and do not care about. I watch children being born to parents that abuse them. I watch people get great paying jobs and know that they did nothing to get them. Yet, here I sit.
Sitting here wondering, why I am here. I will never be the one thing that I have always wanted to be, a mother. I’ve come to realize that now. I can never hold down a job because of my health where we live, I realize that too. So, why am I here?
Before I get the inevitable call from people, I am not suicidal. I am questioning. I am questioning why God left me here. There has to be a purpose. God does not do anything without a reason. I know that. I know that deep to my core. So, I wonder, why am I here?
I do pray a lot and I listen for God’s answer, but I haven’t heard it yet. I haven’t gotten the peace that passes all understanding as to why I am here. I am in school right now, I thought that is where God wanted me but I don’t know. I don’t think so. I even told people before I started I don’t know why God is sending me. I just know He is. But, maybe it was to get me to this point of questioning what the purpose of it is.
I don’t know. I search the Scriptures, my heart, and everything else I can think of to find God’s plan in my life. But, I don’t know what it is. I don’t know how to find it at this point. My brother and sister are very successful in their careers. My sister has two beautiful kids. My brother has travelled the world and seen exotic things, yet here I sit. I have no known accomplishment but to know how to put on weight fast. Boy, I can tell you how to do that.
I also have more physical ailments than most anyone that I know at my age. And yet, I sit and wonder why my purpose in life is. God, I sure wish you would tell me because I don’t know. I don’t know what I am supposed to be doing. Where do you want me? Where do you need me?
Too many times I think people go through life just doing what they want. They don’t search out the will of God in their lives. But, what do you do when you do and God does not tell you? Where are you to go? What am I to think?
I look at my parents, they are highly successful. My mom is definitely successful at playing grandma to my niece and nephew, but here I sit. Not even being able to give my mom what she enjoys. The only kid I ever had was taken away. How do I wrap my head around that?
So what do you do when your life has no purpose? How do you find it? Where do you go?
This post is going to be very very raw. Just because I want to bring awareness to depression and anxiety. I am currently writing an article on what it is like to be a Christian and suffer from both. As I thought about the last month, especially yesterday, I thought I would share the raw with you today. Because yesterday was one of those days that showed the gambit.
Sometimes in life you get a sucker punch in the gut. That is how I have felt the last month. It’s been extremely rough on me emotionally. Some of y’all know what has been going on, some don’t, but it has been an emotional roller coaster. From moments of sheer bliss to moments I think Jason is literally worried.
Yesterday, life was fine. Until I received one piece of news – I may be losing one of the links in my chain of support that helps me battle the depression and anxiety. It sent me spiraling to the point I could barely breathe through my tears. My calming mechanisms tried to kick in but they didn’t. I finally sat down next to Jason constantly rocking and crying. He held me and rubbed my back because he knows that calms me down. Jason finally calmed me down enough to be able to take a moment to myself. Jason drew me a bath and I put my peppermint and lavender oils in and I just soaked.
Jason needed to go pick up a new prescription for my nerve pain. While we were out, he received a call. In that call we found a blessing. The blessing was such that it again sent me into tears, but this time it was tears because I saw God’s grace, mercy, and love. You know the moment I mean when you see God’s hand is in everything and you know you are not on this journey of life alone. That no matter what, you’re loved.
Last night Jason made me dinner. He made me one of my favorites. Something my WW tracker normally says is Jakie Burgers. He made me homemade fries. (The man can cook.) But, then he just sat with me the rest of the night. I don’t remember what we were even watching on tv to be honest. We sat there and he again rubbed my back so that I could be calm and sleep.
You see depression and anxiety is not from distrust in God or something. It’s that raw real emotion that you get throughout the day. It’s not something to be taken lightly or even blown off. It’s real and it’s here.
(This blog is a personal blog and my experience. This blog is not a debate. Comments are welcome but hatred is not. All comments must be approved before posting. For those who are going through the same thing, please feel free to share your stories.)
Sitting in the dark, blinds drawn. Every noise outside penetrating through the windows. Every screech. Every howl. Trying to run away but you are stuck. You can’t escape it. Your trapped in the dark. Lonely. Scared. Trembling. Every move you make to try to get out you find yourself going deeper in. Until you realize, you will never escape.
As you walk around in the world, those thoughts fill your mind. A mind you are trapped in. A mind that constantly tells you are not good enough. A mind that tells you that you are alone. A mind that tells you that you are insignificant. A world you walk around in clouded with secrecy and of despair.
This is my life, and this is my battle. It’s my battle every day in my mind. It’s my battle every day telling me I am on my own. This is my clinical depression and anxiety battle I face every day. But…
Let me start this blog post by making one thing clear, I love my mom. I love my mom more than anything. We may not always agree and we may have our spats, but I love my mom. My mom has had to up put with a lot from me. I have not always been the best daughter. I have done my own thing and unfortunately, sometimes it hurt her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it did. And the amazing thing is, she still loved me. She still cared for me. She still helped me out of more pickles than I care to admit. Through the years she has been the one constant in my life. And I can never be more grateful to her. So, yes, I honored her this year and yes, I sent her a Mother’s Day present – because she deserved it.
But, I still hate Mother’s Day. For me, Mother’s Day is the hardest day of the year. Mother’s Day is the reminder of my heart’s desire that will never be fulfilled. Mother’s Day is a reminder that I can never escape the pain. Mother’s Day is a day that no matter what my husband does I end up in tears.
Losing my child was the hardest thing that has ever happened to me. The hours sitting in the Emergency Room waiting for the word of what I already knew. I knew my child was gone. I knew I would never hold my baby in my arms. The child I had always dreamed of. The child I dreamed would be growing up with my neice and nephew. The child that would sit at the Christmas tree and dream about presents under the tree as my husband read the Christmas story. The child that would sing in the children’s choir at church. The child that someday would accept Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior. All that vanished in the blink of an eye.
The only thing that has ever come close to that amount of pain was the day that I lost my grandmother. I remember my mother calling and asking to speak to my husband. I knew. He didn’t have to get off the phone, I knew. As soon as he rounded the corner from the kitchen, I fell to the ground and cried in the fetal position for hours. He just held me and let me cry. At the viewing, I couldn’t even go into the room. Hubs and my cousins had to comfort me. I don’t even want to venture to guess what will happen if anything ever happens to my mother.
Every year I think I can handle it. But the reality of the situation is I can’t. I can’t handle the thought of never being a mother. I can’t handle the thought of losing my child. I just can’t. At some point in the day, no matter what happens, I break down. I just come to a crumbling halt. Yesterday’s breakdown started when my husband and I were watching a sermon. The still and the quietness left time for hopes, dreams, and nightmares to come flooding back. After the sermon I was extremely quiet. Just walking around doing household chores trying to stay busy. But, when I finally sat down and my husband asked what was wrong, the flood gates opened.
Yesterday was horrible. A day I don’t want to remember.
Yesterday was horrible. A day I don’t want to remember. A day I just want to forget. What I don’t understand is why is Mother’s Day harder than others? The only thing I can come up with is because it is a loss of a dream and it is a day that is celebrated by everyone. You can’t go on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram without people posting pictures of their children and husbands wishing their wives a Happy Mother’s Day. And I get it, they want to honor the moms in their life. I get it. But that is not where the pain stops. In some churches you can’t escape sermons meant for good from being a knife jabbed in your heart over and over. And a sermon about motherhood makes perfect sense on Mother’s Day. But for someone who has struggled with infertility and loss for most of her adult life, stick that knife in further.
Mother’s Day is harder than other days and reminders of my baby. My husband and I get sad and stick together on the day our baby was born into heaven. We do the same thing on the day our baby was to be born into our arms. And we conquer those days together. I think the reason those days are easier is because besides our immediate family and our closest friends, very few reminders are out there. I can log onto Facebook and see other things, not a reminder of my loss. If it falls on a Sunday, the likelihood the pastor is speaking on motherhood is slim. But, Mother’s Day is hard because it is everywhere. I can’t escape it. No matter how hard I try. I do try to stay off Facebook, but those posts are still there on Monday. I will see them no matter how hard I try not to.
You may be asking why I am writing this blog. How is it even related to your weight loss journey? I am because I did yesterday what I have been striving for over a year and a half to avoid. I emotionally ate like you would not believe. I had more points in one day than I have had any one day on my journey. I ate and I did not care. I had to feed my emotions yesterday. And yes, that ice cream from Bruster’s made me feel better yesterday. That hamburger from Macado’s with fries yesterday made me feel better. I am not ashamed to say it.
You notice I said I had more points in one day than I have on this entire journey. The thing I did differently was this. I tracked those points. I tracked every bite I ate. And I am going to live with consequences next Saturday. But, I owned it. I owned what I put in my mouth. I owned those feelings I had yesterday. A year and a half ago, I wouldn’t have. I would have just kept on eating bad. Fell off one day, must be a lost cause. That is what I would have told myself a year and a half ago. But, today, I got up. While I am still down, I am not crying every second. I got back in the saddle and I am taking on the world today. Putting one foot in front of the other.
I will conquer my weight issues. I will conquer the feelings of inadequacy. I will conquer the feelings of embarrassment. But, I don’t think I will ever conquer Mother’s Day. I think it will be a day that I die every single year. And that is ok. It’s the fact that I get up and live the other 364 days of the year.