Skip to main content

Depression is Exhausting

Y'all.

The wrestling is exhausting.

Pretending that you're okay when, in fact, everything around you is crumbling is exhausting.

Painting a smile on top of the pain is exhausting.

Losing sleep over things you can't do anything about is exhausting.

Depression is exhausting.

I often get to the 18th hour of the day and I feel so tired. I silently interrogate my wearyness:  "What have I even done today to make me so tired?" I often feel as if my exhaustion is unwarranted--as if I don't deserve to claim such an adjective. I beat myself up over it--surely there is somebody out there who has earned this descriptor more than I have.

This wilderness that I'm struggling in is exhausting. Today's therapy session was exhausting. Healing is hard work. Being honest with yourself is hard work. My brain hurts, my heart aches, my hips sting with pain. It's like a cancer moving through my body. The laughing hurts as much as the crying. The light behind my eyes is being powered by a generator. Hell, the fact that I can even get outta bed and leave my house every day is a miracle of sorts.

But I'm still here--weary and worn, but available... available to do the work--
available to hope--
available to pray--
available to have faith.

Available.

This exhaustion won't last always.
This depression won't last always.
This wilderness is for just a season.
And through it all, I remain available.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years?"

Today (December 1st, 2020), Facebook reminded me that 5 years ago, I wrapped up a 5-week run of Ain't Misbehavin' at Portland Center Stage in Oregon, and flew back to New York City to re-enter my life there. I had just applied to seminary a few days before Thanksgiving and was excited about the possibility of leaning into this strong calling I felt to deepen my theological knowledge. I was still under the illusion that I'd be able to maintain some sort of performance career, so I kept my manager, Greg, and he'd continue sending me out on auditions. I was becoming very picky about what I'd say "yes" to-- Would I go on that national tour of Hamilton that he wanted to send me on or would I go to seminary? Would I leave to do a 9-month stint in After Midnight on an international cruise ship or would I go to seminary?  That was the question over and over again. I decided that I'd still do local stuff in NYC or short stints in other cities. Even as I ente

When I Stepped Into Myself

[ Read "Way to Freedom" HERE ] I had a conversation with myself last night, re-imagining a previous conversation I had with God about 2 years ago. God was like, "I'm gonna sit here with my arms wide open, while you seek refuge in people and things that were not meant to shelter you, and I'll wait patiently for you to come back home to me." That moment with God 2 years ago was the beginning of my real relationship with God and my relationship with my purpose(s). As I watched things fall into place, in awe of the matchless moves of the universe pushing me toward my purpose (or myself), I never quite committed to the purpose; I never quite committed to God. I walked around God--around my purpose, around myself--but never stepped in. Maybe this is you. This has been your life for years...going in and out of the revolving door that is God's arms. And God still loves, even when you're outside of the door. God still loves, even when your head is pressed

Cracked Eggs, Nerf Guns, and the Murder of Karon Blake

  Cracked Eggs, Nerf Guns, and the Murder of Karon Blake At the time of my writing this, I am sitting in my big chair, staring at my front window from inside the house, looking at the drippings that have stained the glass from the eggs that some neighborhood kids hurled at my window almost two weeks ago. They were mad at me (I suppose) because they came to steal another package off my front porch in December, but they did not know that it was a package I’d planted with a note inside. I had them on camera stealing several packages on my block during the winter break, including one of mine that contained dog food (I know they were disappointed when they opened that one up ha!). Instead of calling the police or posting their faces on the many neighborhood apps, I decided to take an old amazon box, place a note inside, retape it and leave it on the porch. The note read: “God loves you. I care about you. Stop stealing packages. -Pastor Mac.” I wanted these 3 kids who look like they ar