What a Wretched Place, What a Marvelous Savior

Posted: July 28, 2012 in Scribe Scribbles
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,


This week has been one for the record books. I’ve been through the meat grinder spiritually, emotionally, and writer-ly (yes, it’s a new category, roll with it) and  I am raw.

There have been several major changes in my life one on top of the others, and also several heavy hits to my finances. This, combined with general spiritual fatigue was enough for me to slide back down into the  wide maw of depression. For those that don’t battle this sneaky, nasty, unhappy beast, let me just say it’s never a conscious decision to go back to patterns of behavior that  puts me near the fangs of this monster.

I didn’t wake up one morning and go ‘you know I think I’ll stay up later,  stop writing, ignore the warning signs, and walk into that dark place.’

No, it goes something like this:

“Uh-oh, I’m resetting my body clock, this is not good. C’mon self, talk to me, how are we doing? Self? That can’t possibly be good, she’s cut the internal communication lines. Hey! Soul? C’mere. I need you to go find Self. She’s not responding. Make sure you the Holy Spirit with you, who knows where she’s hiding down in there.” And then comes the waiting as Soul goes in search of Self and I run in a fatigued kind of auto-pilot until the two come tromping back.  It’s this waiting to be reconnected to myself that is so miserable.

This is where the doubts crowd in thick and fast; what are you doing with your life, what if you’re only ever going to promote other writers and books and never finish anything yourself, those who can’t do critique, what kind of writer are you anyway, why don’t you just give up, you aren’t really making a difference, who cares what you want the world is falling apart, there are so many better things to be worried about than yourself what kind of Christian are you?

Each one of those thoughts bring about ten friends, and after a while I can’t even hear my soul yelling that it needs back-up over the din.

But He can.  Jesus did hear, and instead of sending angels, instead of sending His servants of flame and fire, He came.  Like Keri Nietz reminded me in A Star Curiously Singing  He stoops! And not only does He stoop, one swipe of His smallest finger and the doubts are knocked backwards. One snort from His nostril and they are silenced.  My Self, she comes limping back and He tends to her. He sends friends to pray for her, Jesus calls my parents and their words restore my soul. My friends intercede for me and my Scribe friends, they lift me up on their shield of faith and carry me before Him.

Now, I am blessed that my depression can be managed with  nutritional supplements  and activity, but if the time comes when it can’t be, I will not hesitate to add to my arsenal what  medicines I need to continue to elude the maw of the beast

Right now, I’m feeling better. Not well, not whole, but very much better. More like

Myself.

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Comments
  1. Amanda says:

    Yaay! We’re so glad to have you back. I know I speak for the scribes when I say that we are always here for you when you need us. Let us know when you need some extra voices praying for you!!! 🙂 As for the writing things… I think Satan gets jealous of us writers ( since his story’s already written) and tries to bring us down. All of us. 🙂 I wrote a blog post on that recently because my Self needed to hear it.

  2. davidrlar says:

    Thanks for the post, you are an encourager. And you’re not the only writer who gets depressed; as one writer I know of said, “It’s an occupational hazard”. I tend to agree.

  3. Galadriel says:

    Awww. I love that image of being like “Soul, go find Self. And it could be scary down there.”

Be brilliant, be peculiar, be peculiarly brilliant.

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