You know things are looking grim when it’s four in the afternoon & you’re laying in bed googling, ‘how to kill yourself & make it look like an accident.’
I am tired. I am always tired. You get used to it after a while. You carry a bottle of high-strength caffeine pills in your purse, & you take them regularly. Maybe possibly truly at twice the dosage the bottle recommends. You ignore the warnings, written in capital letters & bold text. You ignore the pain in your chest, your doctor’s admonishment, & the fact they make you break out in a sweat so cold you’d swear you were in Greenland. It passes, after a while.
I am tired. I am always tired. My family is falling apart. & I’m not talking bickering or disagreements, differences of opinions or a short word here & there. I’m talking huge, cavernous holes in what used to be the fabric of our day to day life. & I’m always at it with my needle & thread, trying to stop the fraying edges from swallowing us whole; but it makes no difference. It really doesn’t. My family is falling apart.
“It’s necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.” [Alexandre Dumas; The Count of Monte Cristo]
I am living a life I never thought I’d see; a life I wasn’t even certain I wanted. But God. The only two words I think I’ll ever need. But God…what else is there to say? He is so faithful. & He is good. He is good, all the time. & they sound like cliches, but they saved a life. My life. & I’m truly lost for words.
My (failing) heart has never felt so full. So this is what hearts are for, I remind myself. For loving. Not breaking. & doctors will tell you it isn’t possible, but I was loved back to life. They’ll tell you it was medication or ECT, transfusions or that my neurotransmitters blah blah blah. But it was love that saved me. Love & the ceaseless prayers of the most incredible women I know. I don’t have words for this, either.
I really am the luckiest girl in the world. To my friends reading this: thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for believing in me, & for me. Thank you for having faith when I’d misplaced mine, for having hope when I had none. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for teaching me what hearts were made for. Thank you for petitioning heaven for my miracle. Thank you for sticking around even after the crisis is over. Thank you for literally loving me back to life.
God’s fixed purpose is not the destruction but instruction of his people. Wisdom hangs up the thermometer at the furnace mouth, and regulates the heat. The God of providence has limited the time, manner, intensity, repetition and effect of all our sicknesses; each throb is decreed, each sleepless hour predestined, each relapse ordained, each depression of spirit foreknown, and each sanctifying result eternally purposed. Nothing great or small escapes the ordaining hand of Him who numbers the hairs of our head. The limit is wisely adjusted to our strength, to the end designed, and to the grace apportioned. We cannot suffer too much nor be relieved too late. The limit is tenderly appointed. He who has fixed the bounds of our habitation, has also fixed the bounds of our tribulation. Charles Spurgeon
“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” [C.S Lewis – Mere Christianity]