Before {revealed} After

 

I have been trying to figure out a book. Not an actual book that I've seen, but an actual book I dream about publishing. It's that big scary dream of mine, I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to make it become a reality. I'm fighting the doubts of how much it will fail. Lots of times, those doubts win when I sit down at the computer. I close the computer and wait for a different time and less doubts.

During this process, I've been reading through old blog posts and messages I've written. Today, I found some journal posts. I don't know if they've ever been fully seen by anyone but me. 

Earlier this week, in my Facebook memories the post I wrote and shared on my medication was there. It was "revealing" my struggles with my anxiety and depression and how I started a medication. How much the medication helped and all the things around that. I read through the post and my heart was so proud of the bravery in sharing that message. I'm an open book, but there are plenty of things that I do not share. Believe it or not, it takes bravery on my part to be open and vulnerable. It may seem like it comes easily, and sometimes it does, but it doesn't always. 

As I was going through my computer journal posts I found one that I titled "Before". I don't even remember writing it. It was written sometime after July of 2019. I am pretty positive I have never shared this post. 

I am also pretty positive that I feel so many of the same things six years later. The befores are just as real for me. I still struggle with some of them. As I read through them, my heart pounded. Not because I was feeling the same things now, but because my heart aches so badly for the girl who wrote them. The befores were so fresh on her heart. So clear in her mind. I just to want to reach back and hug her. I want to tell her the truth is, six years later that she will still feel them. They won't be as fresh, but they will be there. She will use them as more of a reminder of how far God has brought her, instead of the struggles that she walked through. Sure, those are the same things, but they're different now. 

As I read through "Before", my heart also screamed at me. It screamed at me--you may not have shared this before, but now, in the after...you need to share it. God needs to use what you wrote then, now. It was not needed as much then, but it's much needed now. 

So, I share it. I share the post "Before" now titled "Before {revealed} After" 

It’s been since July. 
It feels like this new normal that I can almost not remember what it was like before.
But the feelings of before are still there. Still part of my mind and my heart. My story. My story of Before.

Before. 
Before when going to the store was hard. That looking at paper mate flair markers caused a full blown panic attack.
For real. It did.

I will never forget staring at the two packs of markers and not being able to decide which ones to get. Which ones made more sense to get. Which ones were the better deal per marker. I didn’t need both…should I just buy both because then I didn’t have to decide. This was so stupid…why was this difficult.
I cannot even answer why. 
I just knew that it was.
I knew the feelings I was feeling were overwhelming. That I literally could not decide and that I had to remind myself to breathe. That I had to remind myself to not cry. The tears were there. They were threatening my cheeks with their presence. 
I remember telling myself how dumb I was and to knock it off.
I have no memory of which markers I decided on. 
I think I left the aisle with nothing. 

Before.
Before when going to Menards for house supplies made me break down. That through choked back tears I asked an employee for help because I was getting ready to just walk right out of the store. My heart was pounding so hard I’m sure he heard it. He probably thought that I was just some clueless girl trying to buy drywall mud. But I wasn’t clueless. I was overwhelmed. Panicked because there were so many options. Not just the one that I was told to grab. I remember calling Shaun before I asked for help. Telling him I didn’t know. I don’t remember what he said to me. But I remember feeling brave enough to ask for help when I got off the phone. 
I remember picking out pads for our chairs after we had our floors refinished. Not sure if I could do it. All of the options. Shaun was in Haiti. I COULD MAKE THIS DECISION WITHOUT HIM. My kids were with me that time. They didn’t know it, still don’t, how much they helped me. We talked through all of the choices and decided which ones would work best for the furniture we had. 

Before.
Before when something really great was happening and I stood back wondering when it would end. When something bad would happen and ruin it all. 

Before.
Before when I wouldn’t think before speaking most of the time. (that isn’t something that fully goes away, we all do that sometimes, I was doing it A LOT of the times) When I would lose it at my kids for really simple mistakes. When I would yell. When I would see the fear in their faces and I would break down and tell them what a bad mom I am because I fail so much. When Breigh had to call her dad home from work because she was afraid of what I was saying and what I might do. When I had to call my husband home from work because I was afraid of what I might do. 

Before.
Before when a simple wedding was hard to attend. I so desperately needed time with my husband and was finally getting it. But didn’t feel like I was. I was going through the motions of the day. I was smiling when I thought I should smile. I was walking when I knew I should be walking. I was pretending the best I could. I made it through the day as best as I could. As well as I could. So on the following Monday, when I got a text from the bride’s mother berating me for not saying “hi” to her daughter/the bride…I lost it. I realized that my pretending wasn’t good enough. I realized that people do not know what others are going through. That they assumed I was just being a jerk. That they didn’t know that I barely survived that day. That my biggest accomplishment was getting out of bed when I didn’t want to. Or know if I could. That the one dress I felt pretty in…had a stain….and I had to wear one that I didn’t feel good in at all. That I was happy for the bride…but being there was all I could do to show it. That moving and walking and trying to smile was really difficult that day. That I was so sad that I missed picking up my girls from their first week away at summer camp. That my cycle came an entire week early and I was sleeping over at a friend’s house with white sheets and I was afraid of messes that can come with that. That my husband gave me his pajama pants to wear because I forgot some. That the next day was our church’s baptism and I had to survive being away from home and decent bathrooms. 

Before.
Before when I thought about if my family would be better off without me. When I decided that they probably would be. When I decided it would also cause more issues than it was worth. I loved them a lot and didn’t want to hurt them…yet here I was hurting them. Would it be better to NOT be here and hurt them than it was to BE here and still hurt them? I didn’t know. But I knew I wasn’t brave enough to try either. Yeah, I said that. I believe that there is a certain bravery that comes with being willing to take your life. Bravery I didn’t have. Bravery that the Devil told me “I failed at.” Truly, the best bravery I’ve never tried and the best failure I’ve ever made. 

Before.
Before when I thought my friends were better off without me. When I thought they just put up with me because they really liked my kids and husband, and they were willing to suffer through my presence because of how awesome they were. (and are) When I thought they just pitied me and wanted to be nice to the annoying girl. When I pulled away from them so there would be no chance of them seeing how unhappy I really was. When I attempted to make jokes and be “funny” so they wouldn’t see through the plastered smile. When I hid tears and fears and true feelings so I didn’t have to have them worry about me. 

Before.
When I would tear up at the craziest times. Not even knowing fully why. Sometimes it was because of being overwhelmed. Sometimes it was because I was feeling so blessed I couldn’t even stand it. Sometimes it was over words someone spoke to me that I took to heart and criticized myself even more. Sometimes it was over words someone spoke to me that were so kind and I didn’t deserve them.

Honestly, these befores sometimes still creep up. The difference between the before and the now, is that I am better and more equipped to handle them. To stare the situations in the face and conquer them. 

It was a few weeks after taking my medicine that I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I truly YELLED at my kids…when before it was easier to remember when I had instead of when I hadn’t. I realized in that moment that the medicine was working so well. It was helping me to remain calm. It was helping me to become what I had wanted to be…happy.

Like not just happy, but truly happy. Not pretend happy, genuinely happy. 

I truly feel that the medicine was and is an answer to my prayers to feel better. I also know and feel that God doesn’t always use medicine as the answer for people. Sometimes I think people can pray and be released from the bondage of depression and anxiety. Sometimes I think people can use essential oils to help. Natural supplements. For me, though, for me…I needed medicine.