Hard – that’s really the most comprehensive word I can find
to describe this season of life I am finding myself in. Everything is just hard…
I told someone recently that we were in the monsoon season of ‘when it rains it
pours’… I laughed, the kind of laugh you use to keep from bursting out in
tears. Truth be told – I’ve cried so many tears over the past 6 months… I’m not
sure there are any tears left to cry.
I lived in complete oblivious bliss in the years leading up
to this point in time. Even living on the verge of vanity, pride, greed… and a
lot of other adjectives I would have never imagined using to describe myself
but that’s where a life of complacency, ignorance and even sin had brought me
too. I’ve often heard that trials, the ‘fires’ of life, are meant to refine us,
to draw out the impurities and make us in right standing with our creator. Boy
am I embarrassed to admit the ‘impurities’ I have purged since mid-September.
I realize now – that I had become a shell of a person,
someone I didn’t recognize and wasn’t particularly proud of. I had abandoned
everything that made me whole, that brought me joy… and traded it for a
superficial façade that appeared happy and put together on the outside but was
soul sick on the inside. I wasn’t just falling short of being the mom and wife
I wanted to be, I was falling short as a friend, as a boss, as a daughter, as a
person… so it didn’t take long for the storms of life to hit, and completely derail
me spiritually, mentally and physically.
Early September brought a family crisis with one of our
daughters that completely blindsided us… in reality, discernment was telling me
something was wrong, but, as I had become accustomed to, I ignored the
promptings of the Holy Spirit and moved on with life – while my child suffered
in silence for nearly 4 months. I had failed as her protector, as someone she
could trust… as a spiritual leader for her. Three short weeks after that, an ER
visit led my dad to a 2-month long stay in the CVTICU in Chapel Hill, NC – and nearly
40 days on a ventilator. It has been an uphill battle against hospital
policies, rehab facilities, insurance companies, set-backs, etc., ever since.
Shortly after that I started to experience my own health issues and depression
and anxiety attacked my spirit like never before. I, the strong one, the one
that never doubted God before… found herself standing in the shower, screaming
out to God in anger, “WHERE ARE YOU?! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!!” My marriage
took a hit, and so did every other relationship in my life. My mental state
spread like a disease in our household, ultimately infecting everyone else… and
our home had suddenly turned in to a house where misery lived. Other demons we
were facing as a family made certain, there would be no joy and peace in the
Collins house.
It didn’t take long before all of these life distractions,
and various other issues hit our business – bringing on a whole new level of
panic, worry and stress that I have never felt before. I was being crushed by
the burdens of this world… and I couldn’t even bring myself to do the very
thing that COULD bring me peace. Instead of laying my burdens at the feet of
Jesus, I picked them up – strapped them on my back and was determined to
destroy myself attempting to carry them on my own. It’s been a very lonely
place to live. I’ve had more than my fair share of mental breakdowns… I’ve
worried my family. I’ve had days where I couldn’t pull myself out of the bed. I’ve
had days where I cried from the moment I woke up to the moment I finally
exhausted myself just enough to sleep for 2 hours, and then woke up and did it
again, the next day. I lost nearly 30 pounds as anxiety and worry stole my
appetite and my peace. I spent 10+ hours a day searching for answers online, in
FB groups, though Instagram hashtags… desperate to find someone that was
struggling like me, and found a way to make it through. I exhausted myself
looking for answers, attempting to take control of an uncontrollable situation…
all the while ignoring the ONE thing I knew I needed to do, to find peace… but
a part of me was so scared that God really had abandoned me, that He really
wasn’t going to answer my prayers, wasn’t going to throw me a life line… that I
had become the 1 in 99 that He decided just wasn’t worth pursuing…that I didn’t
call on Him because I couldn’t bear the thought of being abandoned by Him too. My
faith was gone.
Everything came to a head and hit an all-time high of BAD in
early January. Two weeks later I found myself in the urgent care and
subsequently the ER, dehydrated, malnourished, and in excruciating pain as the
stress had completely overtaken me. I felt like I was going to die… for the
first time in my life, I WANTED to die. It would at least put me out of my
misery and my family out of the job of having to share that misery with me. That
was the turning point… I knew I could not go on like that for another day. My
entire life had been completely interrupted by the no good, very bad days
anxiety and worry were bringing me. This month I saw the darkest hours of my
life. Those darkest hours are also the catalyst for my rebirth. When I was at
my lowest… when the darkness was so thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of my
face… God started shining a light.
I started pouring out my heart on social media. Probably not
the best avenue, but I was desperate for prayer, even when I couldn’t find it in
me to pray for myself. A friend commented on one of those posts and said the
Lord was telling her ‘my pen was being restored’… it was confirmation to me
that God was rewriting this story of heartache and despair. It was the sign I
needed to finally believe that even though I couldn’t see evidence of it right
now… God was moving on my behalf… He was taking what the enemy meant for evil
and He was going to somehow, someway, use it for good. I had no choice but to
believe that… I had to hold onto the hope that better days were coming, that a victory
was on the horizon, because I could no longer live with the anguish of thinking
anything else.
I slowly started leaning in to the things that I know make
my soul happy… my daily quiet time with Jesus, serving my family, slowing down
and not letting the busyness of our life dictate every detail of my day. It’s
helping. For the first time since September 2nd – I felt true peace
last week. I woke up one day, and the worry and anxiety was gone. I try to
savor each morning I wake up with that peace in place of panic. I know my struggle
and this journey isn’t over. Honestly, nothing about our situation or
circumstances has changed to make me ‘feel better’ about it… but GOD… I wish I could
say I have fully surrendered – I haven’t. I’m trying.
Hard! Yes, life is hard. Being a Christian does not magically make the ‘bad’ of this world disappear. In fact – as a Christian, our walk is often harder than that of the non-believer. We wake up each day fighting an adversary that is determined to kill, steal from and destroy us. But as I’m learning… we also get the choice each day to fight that battle alone… or to allow the creator of this universe, the ultimate victor, fight this battle with us. I know there are still hard, dark days ahead. But I’m not going to keep trying to walk this road and navigate these storms, alone. And you shouldn’t either. Thank God His mercies are new every morning. I’m praying for you today, friend. Whatever season you find yourself in… don’t weather it alone. Strip off those burdens, lay them at the feet of Jesus, and trust that His ways are higher than our ways. In the words of the praise and worship song that has been on repeat and carried me through many stormy nights… I don’t know how He’ll make a way… but I know He will… for you and for me.
