These last couple of days have been some of my worst ones. Although I say that every time I have a series of bad ones. I guess they are all bad in their own unique way. But like I said, today might be the day. You see I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon (as well as seing my counselor) and this might be the day that I decide to give up completely. You see, I have been holding on for some miracle or some hope to be restored, yet it seems that holding on has been done in vain.
I am tired of fighting this. I have seen nothing but defeat. Despite my advances at times, the enemy is too strong. Way too strong. I am considering getting off of my medicines. I am considering not going to see my counselor anymore. I am considering just giving up.
Why? Cause this battle has wore me down. This battle has gotten the best of me and there is no shame in admitting defeat. At least not in my opinion. I have done all that I can do. I say that to everybody but it's like it has no meaning. My best is obviously not good enough.
Do you know what it is like living, knowing that your best is not good enough? Do you know what its like to live every day knowing that victory is out of reach? Do you know?
Many have given me advice. Some has been the generic advice that we always give to people. I won't even type them out - you know what they are. But I hate to tell them and so I don't - that their advice is useless to me.
Don't you think if I could beat this I would? Don't you think if I could make things different I would? Or do you think that I enjoy this pain and suffering? For those of you who think I enjoy this struggle......well you......well you just don't understand. That is the nicest thing that I can say. You think you understand because you have read a book or because you have "done your research" on the internet......well let me tell you, that don't mean jack to me. The internet and that author has no idea how I feel. He has not walked a mile in my shoes. And if he did: then I doubt he would have hung on as long as I have. You see, I am fighter. I want to win. But there is nobility in realizing that you have lost. I have probably fought for too long.
Maybe medication is not the best thing for me. Maybe counseling is not the best thing for me. I don't know what is, but I know that whatever I have been doing is not working.
Where do I run to? Where do I hide? I used to have that answer. I would spit it out in some self righteous way that made others feel as though they were not as spiritual as I was. But now: I have no answers and the ones I am hearing....well just doesn't do much for me.
What will I do? I don't know. I really don't.
But there has got to be a better way, hasn't there?........
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Facing myself...my fears, my doubts, my failures (real and imagined) has always been the hardest thing I've ever had to do. At least one reason I found working in service projects and outreach ministry so rewarding was that I could take my mind off the mess in *my* life, and focus it on someone else. (I'm not saying *you* are doing this...it's *my* confession, here.) :-)
When I've hit the blackest parts of my life, I always have hoped I could be "restored" to where I was before - to "get back there," wherever the hell that was. Some place better, cleaner, less sinful, less doubting. It sure sounded like a good idea.
It's taken me some time to realize that, in many ways, I can never go *back* anywhere. I can't undo knowledge of the evil in people (especially in *church* people), or get something or someone to magically undo all the hurts I've felt and my own failures. It's taken a lot of listening to the Spirit speaking through others to realize this: every sucky thing in my life has, somehow, come to be used for good somehow. A confrontation with my best friend, when I was 21, triggered a week-long dive into alcohol abuse and depression for my friend - who then killed himself on Palm Sunday, 1990. At the time, I blamed myself for his death - and the combination of my guilt about our confrontation, and my guilt about his dying alone, gave me an excuse to work on destroying my life for another year after he died.
Several years later, a young man (17) in AA came to me, and (over the space of two hours) finally stammered out a confession of an uncomfortable confrontation between himself and *his* best friend - something that he was considering taking *his* own life for. That's when I had the chance to share one of the most horrible weeks of my life with another human being - and let him know that he was not alone, and not beyond redemption.
And, by definition, neither was I.
CS Lewis wrote in "The Four Loves" a classic quote: "True brotherhood begins at the point where one man says to another, 'You too? I thought I was the only one...' "
My admission that I was broken was the best thing - even though it seemed like failure at the time. But then I could stop pretending I had it together, and really start to see myself as a true ragamuffin - broken, bent seemingly beyond repair - but still beloved. I didn't understand that, for a long time. I still don't, some days.
But I hope you can find a taste of it, soon.
One request - if you *do* decide to "go off" your medication, please: do NOT cut yourself off, cold turkey. Especially with anti-depressants and the like, failing to taper-off those drugs can cause a violent "rebound effect," which will worsen whatever problem they were prescribed for a dozen-fold.
Don't stop talking - don't stop writing. And please - don't buy into the lie that you're alone. You're not.
Wishing you a gift of peace, and e-hugs.
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