Volatile and Turbulent. Those are the two words I’d use to describe my October. Anyone who knows me well will tell you I love being up in my head and perseverating. I will think about a situation and its worst-case scenarios until I beat it into submission. Then even if I reach a conclusion, I repeat the process a few more times just to be sure I went through every possible facet. I find comfort in processing things logically. It gives me a sense of control over it all.
So when I was met with waves of emotions this month, I had no clue what to do with them. For someone who considers themself so grounded in reason, I was repeatedly caught off guard by how emotions could sweep me off my feet at a moment’s notice. The feels came in waves with no real patterns to help me forecast their return. It didn’t matter if I was alone or hanging out with friends. During class or playing video games. The emotions could ravage me whenever and wherever. And when they came, they were violent and all-consuming. Everything that I knew to be true and good would be cast to the wayside and replaced with falsehoods of angst, shame, and a whole lot of doubt. I doubted my friends. I doubted myself. I doubted the goodness of my Father. Any sort of healing that I thought was happening felt like a figment of my imagination.
Oh, and then I kept dreaming vividly (I have never dream) about all the things I’m processing or just wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it, leaving me more tired and vulnerable to emotions consuming me during the day. It seriously felt like an emotional ambush was waiting around every corner.
To combat this onslaught of heartache, I convinced myself that if I understood all that happened, the emotions would subside. Let my brain do its thing and perseverate. Play every memory over that could’ve caused this mess and how I could’ve prevented it. Then go on mulling about how worst-case scenarios for the future following the fallout. Trying to answer these questions just became background noise in my head that was constantly blaring. I could be in one room with people but have my mind in a completely different place. It was exhausting. I had a few moments driving I literally tried to drown out that noise with music full volume.
The problem is, I’ll never know all the answers, and even if I could have them all, it won’t take away the hurt. Answering the why of it all isn’t going to help me move on. All I can do is come to the Father with open hands and ask that he bind my wounds and maybe help me have a restful night of sleep.
While it often didn’t feel like it, I know He’s answering those prayers. There have been slight improvements. The frequency of attack has decreased, the intensity of pain has declined, and there are a few nights a week where I at least don’t remember the dreams entirely. Further, I think my capacity to deal with emotion is increasing. I’m nowhere near being completely healed, but I’ve been able to see a little glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel.
We’ll get there one day. Upwards and onwards (AKA Philippians 4:4-9).
For the love,
Austin
My long list of quotes/lyrics (part 2):
“I couldn’t wait for you for my entire life
I hope you make it to someone who treats you right
And when you think of me I hope that all your memories are sweet
But I don’t wanna walk around the issue for forever
Haven’t found a way to make it better
Look around and hopefully you’ll see what I have seen”
“Breaking habits overnight
Scattered pieces on the floor
All the fragments of my mind
I’m so much different than before
The way I’m talking in my sleep
And when I dream, you’re there with me
You’re leaving me faded
I’d say three words to keep you here
But every fear is leaving me faded, you’re leaving me faded”
“I turn up my speakers
So I can drown my thoughts just a little bit quicker
Dancing barefoot in the dead of winter
So I can numb this heart that’s full of splinters
They say time heals
All wounds but these clocks are at a standstill
And I’m counting every second that you’re not here
But only in my dreams do you appear
Am I allowed to lay down my smile
And be bitter just for a while?
Don’t keep pulling me under, we were meant to stay afloat
I see all the embers, they’ve not yet lost all their glow
Could you try to take a look into my eyes
And tell me why oh why, why, why?”
“The hour is dark
And it’s hard to see
What You are doin’ here in the ruins
And where this will lead
Oh, but I know
That down through the years
I’ll look on this moment and see Your hand on it
And know You were here”
“Emotions are real, but they aren’t the truth.”
“Contrary to what we expect to be the case, therefore, the deeper into weakness and suffering and testing we go, the deeper Christ’s solidarity with us. As we go down into pain and anguish, we are descending ever deeper into Christ’s very heart, not away from it.”
“When we look at our faith, we inevitably look at our feelings—and if you ground God’s love for you in your feelings, neither your conscience nor heart will be satisfied. In effect, Mother Teresa embraced justification by sensing God’s love for her. When we base God’s love for us on how we feel about his love, it inevitably leads to self-entanglement, because we never have enough faith.... Looking at your faith will depress you, whereas exercising faith by looking to Jesus frees you. We are declared righteous because of Jesus’s blood, not by the energy of our faith. Otherwise, we get caught in endless mental traps. True faith frees the conscience like nothing else.”