I breathe out the words, “I matter to God.” They slowly pass over my lips, circle around my head and land in my ears with a dull thud. Those words, unable to penetrate any further into my brain clogged with contrary messages, never make it down into my heart where I need to feel them most. Vain repetition of what I know to be true but life experience guards against the impact of these words, stubbornly refusing to let them take root in any significant way.
“I don’t matter, I am invisible, no one notices, I am disappearing” those words travel down the back of my throat, never crossing my lips, but going right into my core.
I can breathe in and out what scripture tells me, but I seem more apt to swallow the lies and let them infiltrate the core of my being. Those are the words that suck the energy from my body into the black hole of depression. I open the scripture praying that one magic arrow of truth might ignite that dark place and burn away those messages. I am skeptical that today it will happen.
This feels dark, because it is dark. This is depression.
It has come to call upon me yet again. The old, familiar visitor who decides to drop in for a visit. It would be nice if she would call to see if she is welcome before she shows up at the door, but she doesn’t. Then again, depression has never been a kind visitor, never thoughtful, never asking if this may be a good time for me to have her visit. How long will she stay this time? Just today? A week, a whole month? What if she never leaves? That is always the fear. That she is going to permanently move in, and yet history tells me that she will eventually leave.
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