Why Does This Hurt So Much?
I sat on the couch feeling crushed. My friends, who promised to check in, haven’t yet. The clock ticked so slowly, the seconds dragging on. I checked my phone again, nope, still nothing.
“God, doesn’t anybody care?”
There’s all this talk about the Holy Spirit nudging people to reach out at just the right time, unknowingly. Why doesn’t He do that for me? God must not care either. I’m really struggling here God. Some support would be nice…from someone…anyone.
“I’m about to give up, God. Does any of this really matter anyway?”
Maybe if I ran my car into a tree, someone would care about me then. What if I got blackout drunk, would they then take my pain seriously? If I took all these pills, would it take the pain away? Would the loneliness leave me? If I disappeared and never came back, who would notice?
My soul hurts. I don’t know how it got this way. I don’t know how to change it either. It feels like a physical wound inside my chest. Something must be broken in there. I can picture the shattered pieces of my heart splattered on the walls of my chest cavity, blood dripping down. Is my heart still beating? Yes. Fast.
It’s time for recovery group. I don’t want to go. Going through the motions, I get dressed and ready to go. My soul is somewhere else. I can’t function with its constant pain, so I sent it away.
In the car, I stepped on the gas. The faster I go, the more alive I feel. The louder the bass, the more the darkness shakes loose, trying to escape. The heavier the beat, the deeper the cracks break for the heaviness to ooze out.
By God’s grace, I arrive safely. My heart beats faster as I anticipate the group. Will someone there see me? Really SEE me? Or will I sit by myself as if invisible again?
It was time to share. It was my turn. Will I tell them what’s really on my mind? Or will I say something more comfortable…more acceptable? Voice shaking, I spill out my struggles. I explain that I don’t understand why I have these feelings. They make no sense. I felt great just not that long ago. Nothing in my life can explain why a switch flipped, and I suddenly would rather die than face the world. Then those words…
“This is normal.”
“Normal? You mean I’m not crazy?”
They had compassion for me, patiently explaining that in recovery, the brain can take a long time to balance out, causing really high highs and then a sudden drop to really low lows. They are here for me. They felt this once too. They see me. God sees me.
If I just hang in there, someday, I will be okay.
Meet the Author
Megan grew up in rural Wisconsin where she was always known as the quiet girl with a book in her hands. Now Megan is working on her lifelong dream of becoming the author of her very own book. Out of her own struggle with trauma and mental health, she created the Jordan Crossings Blog to empower those who are healing from trauma and educate Christians on how to minister to those who are hurting.
