My contacts were shriveled up and dry from the amount of liquid that my tear ducts were producing. Any other day, the sheer irony of that reality would have made me laugh...but today was not one of those days. As a matter of fact, I haven't had "one of those days" in a while.
It was a Sunday - church day. The fellowship hall buzzed with intent conversations, bustling laughter, the faintest smell of coffee, and essentially - genuine Christian fellowship. But fellowship was the very last thing that I wanted to do.
Instead, I wanted to curl up into fetal position with my spine against the cool tile of the bathroom floor and cry my eyes out in solitude. But, as that is the socially unacceptable thing to be doing 1. ever and 2. especially at church, I plastered a forced smile on my face and attempted to muster as much "Christian-ese" into my conversation vocabulary as possible. As cheesy and cartoon-like as it may sound, I felt like I had a dark storm cloud looming over my head, threatening to release a waterfall of emotions if given the opportunity. There was a heavy, dull ache in my chest and the intense desire to be left alone. My eyelids felt heavy, but my heart was heavier - yet for the life of me, I could not figure out why.
Any conversation I had with someone that morning was a constant battle between my own emotions and willpower. As soon as I would open my mouth to speak, my tear ducts would instantly threaten my sanity, and with all the strength I could muster, I would blink away the tears as to hide the growing darkness within me.
Through some type of miracle, I somehow managed to make it throughout two Sunday services without breaking down into hysterics. If there were any ounce of joy left within me, it would probably be spent patting myself on the back for being able to hold myself together so well when in actuality I was falling apart. Yet, the strangest thing was that I did not even know that I was falling apart during that moment. In my own perception, I was fine. Yes, I recognized my need to cry, but I ultimately ignored it and refused to accept the fact that I was broken, because I did not really have a reason to be. I thought it was something I could probably just sleep off and be fine the next morning.
That is until my dad asked me if I were doing okay.
And that is when the water works started...and wouldn't stop. It was as if I had no control over my emotions. They consumed me, gripped me, clung onto me so tightly. I was like a soaking towel being wrung out until there was no more water left...but the water kept coming.
When people asked me what was wrong, I would have no answer, because to be frank, I did not know why I felt like or even what was wrong myself. I did not even see anything as being wrong. I guess, I was so clouded by my own darkness that it blinded me.
I ended up sobbing from 2pm to 6:30pm without stopping. I did not even know my body could produce that much liquid, and maybe that is why I got one of the worst migraines I have ever gotten a couple hours later.
The following week was a blur. I don't remember anything about it at all actually, except for the fact that I dreaded the thought of being around people. The mere anticipation of finding myself in an environment with another person made me feel physically uneasy and sick to my stomach. And I had this overbearing feeling of apathy - a lot of apathy. I just did not care about anything or anyone. I felt empty without the longing of filling that emptiness. Not only that, but my stomach problems and pains as well as migraine issues struck my body like a mallet.
The next Sunday, I talked to my mom. And the water works show commenced once again, not stopping even throughout the member's meeting we had at church. I was literally sobbing my way through a presentation on church finances. What was wrong with me?
Finally, I asked the question that was as looming as my heavy emotions;
"Mom, am I depressed?"
And her answer shocked me:
"Yeah, maybe."
"Yeah, maybe."
As the story goes, in retrospect, I would not necessarily say I was full-on depressed. I experienced a variety of quite "lovely" mood swings, experiencing so much apathy, frustration, irritation, anger, and down-right sadness. No, I was not completely clinically depressed, but I was engulfed by waves of depression. And my heart breaks for those who fight through actual depression for fighting through my own mini episodes were extremely difficult wars in itself.
Ultimately, it was discovered that this was a common side effect (intense mood swings, migraines, and even depression) from my medication that I had recently started as a means of regulated some hormonal imbalances that I was experiencing.
And as I am currently exiting one of the stronger waves of my inexplicable and uncontrollable crying sessions, I am in awe of a few things that this experience has taught me and is still currently teaching me.
1. If God is perfect, then His timing is perfect. Therefore, He knows exactly what trial I am facing and it is all in His sovereign and perfect control (Romans 8:28). But at the same time, that also means that in His perfect timing, the trial will pass when He wants it to pass, not necessarily when I want it to pass. Thus, to trust in the Lord whole-heartedly with patience as He knows what He is doing and knows far better than I (Proverbs 3:5-6).
2. "You are good and do good; teach me Your statutes."
"It is good for me that I was afflicted that I might learn your statutes." (Psalm 119: 68, 71).
Sanctification is not always easy. It hurts, it molds, it changes. Through this difficulty, the Lord will sustain me for He is good and He is definitely using this to teach me many lessons and many more lessons to come as well. Through it all, He is faithful and good.
3. Emotions versus truth. Emotions can deceive as seen in the heart's desperate wickedness (Jeremiah 17:9). The only true thing that can sustain is truth. Stay rooted in Truth, my soul, do not listen to your own wandering emotions. Faith based on emotions is wavering. Faith established upon Truth will persevere.
4. Joy is not a feeling. Joy is truth. Joy is the Gospel. As David writes in his psalm, "Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit." Joy is not necessarily the feeling of happiness, although when things are right, they often times go hand-in-hand. Rather, joy is understanding who the Lord is, the marvelous things He has done, and reveling in the glorious nature of who He and the Gospel is. So take joy, my heart, in the very nature of the Lover of your soul, and hope in salvation.
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