Personally, I love Valentine’s Day and I have for as long as I can remember. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day and a Monday. Mondays – I probably don’t love them as much. While I wouldn’t describe myself as loathing them and especially as a “stay at home mom” (though can anyone tell me when the stay at home part starts?) each day, including Monday, typically possesses more flex and less rhythm. The weekends though, are when hubs and kids are home, too and we all get to do things together. And because my life is certainly better with my people and the room for more fun that weekends offer, when they end, I can sometimes find myself relating to a Monday-est Monday feeling like so many others.
Now picture it, yesterday afternoon, and me in Target grabbing a couple last minute things for Valentine’s Day. It was madness and all of the lines, including self-checkout, were booming. Not wanting to wait twenty minutes to checkout, and in no real rush, I decided to wander the aisles of Target a little bit more until things had calmed down. I mean, that actually sounds a lot more like an unexpected treat than a punishment.
A bit later, and obviously with a few more things in my hands, (hello, it’s Target, people) I walked back up to the front to find a good number of more checkout stations less busy. Wanting to purchase a gift card, I decided to opt for a trained cashier rather than trusting in myself to ring things up correctly. If you’re familiar with Wilmington’s Target checkout, there are two registers in each row. While both, in each aisle, are not always open, yesterday, I spotted an open lane at the end of a row. Jackpot! Only, as my husband pointed out, is kind of a design flaw, the other checkout station, the one further from the exit doors and closer to me, was also open and with three people in line.
I thought it seemed obvious that they were two separate lanes. They do have two different numbers, after all. However, not wanting to unintentionally stir the pot, and in no real rush, I opted to check in with the third of the ladies, in the first line, to ask if she wanted to go ahead to the open one. I was admittedly surprised and mostly speechless when she responded with something along the lines of “I think they’re all one line”.
Ummmmm. No. No. I don’t think they are, madam…I said to myself in my head. What now, I also thought. In trying to be polite, I had inadvertently created another problem. I really didn’t know what to say or do. Should I stand behind her for another 10 minutes or go around her to the open lane? What felt like a whole minute, but realistically was about 10 seconds later, the cashier of that open register announced “I can take the next guest!”
Without missing a beat, a lady from a lane to the left of us moved towards the welcoming cashier. Understandable. But, so did lady number three. And, can I just say, she moved with a swiftness and force like something I’ve just not seen at a register. So much so that she rammed her cart into the customer who’d come from the left. I can’t say it was intentional. I also would not at all be willing to make a bet that it wasn’t. A true sight to behold.
Now, on a normal day, meaning in life, not a Monday or a holiday, I’d probably feel what I’d venture most of you do ,too, if you’re able to envision the interaction and collision. A sarcastic “Rude!” or “What’s wrong with her?” would undoubtedly be my dominant, and sinful, quick response to that. And, I wouldn’t at all seek to justify what really was an odd event to participate in and watch. But, instead of my typical rush to judgment about what kind of person this woman certainly was, my mind went to a genuine and soft “She must be having a really hard day.”
I struggle often to possess thankfulness for the “hard” part of the “hard days”. Amen? I’m working on it. I am, however, often grateful, when I’m able to see how the Lord is using the hard moments to grow in me a more merciful and gracious attitude with others who might be experiencing something I know nothing of. It’s a mercy and grace I’ve experienced time and time again; first and foremost from Christ, but even as of late from a lot of others.
As many of you may know, I attend free peer lead workouts through an organization called FiA. If you can get over the early morning time (which is easier than you think) this group is a wonderful community and genuine blessing. Each time you lead a FiA workout, as you close, you have the opportunity to share words of encouragement with the other women. This morning, having scheduled myself to lead, I couldn’t get out of my mind the incident with the lady at Target. Over and over, I thought about the somewhat famous quote that says “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind.” My decision to offer that woman at the register patience, rather than disdain, stemmed from the reality that I myself have been fighting my own battle.
And so, this morning, as I shared a more brief version of yesterday’s event, and the quote made famous by Ian Maclaren (admittedly, I don’t know who that is), I also shared one big reason that I’d chosen kindness over an alternative.
“I’ve been having a really hard time.”
The statement was so simple, and yet, so very complex. It carried with it a great weight and more vulnerability than it might seem at just face value. Yet, the sharing of it, in a truly honest way, brought relief and release. My voice cracked. As the words fell from my mouth, so did the tears from my eyes. I didn’t know they’d come and I certainly wouldn’t have chosen that. But, I’m not at all sad they did. I think I needed them without even having realized it.
You see, for a while now, I’ve been struggling under what I only know how to define as the weight of depression. And, I hate to say that “out loud”. Typically an open book, when it comes to the sharing of the weight one feels, (or that I feel) related especially to what could be deemed “mental health”, it can bring about so many well meaning, but not necessarily helpful responses. I’m more than aware of how guilty I am of this with others. I think we desire to fix things for those we love. A genuine and noble ambition. And there is certainly a place for honest examination of our hearts, much of that coming about as others help us review if there are sin patterns and struggles we need to change. I would never discourage this as part of the process.
But sometimes, just sometimes, nothing in your life is off and you’ve checked all the boxes and still it feels like you’ve fallen in a deep hole and there is absolutely no way out. Sharing, then, that something is wrong when you know nothing is tangibly amiss can feel incredibly defeating and discouraging.
Mental health. I cringed and felt anxious as I wrote those words. A once incredibly taboo topic to discuss, now it can often feel that you find nearly anyone diagnosed with a condition falling amongst this label wearing it like a badge of honor. Articles and memes that say “I take pills and I’m proud.” or “Ten things your depressed friend wants you to know.” often flood my timeline. The pendulum on sharing has swung from one far end to the other.
Now, sure, here I am, writing on my very public blog about a very real “mental health” struggle. Yet, what I won’t endeavor to do, at least for now and in this space, is share with you many of the risks I think can be found at both ends of that swing. There seems to be plenty and they don’t honor God. A caveat and, please, I beg, don’t misunderstand me. I’m strictly referring to the dangers that can come from hiding or boasting about these kinds of things. Therapy, medicine and sin versus science are all an entirely different arena. These convos, and more, however, are just something I’d much rather discuss with you in person, eating ice cream while staring at the ocean or drinking hot tea as we sink into a comfy couch.
So what then, for today, is my point? Really….I guess…. my desire is to take steps towards my own healing. And words, like I noted at the beginning of this whole writing adventure, help me process the world around me – including my own. There was just such freedom in sharing so openly this morning. Writing it out here is another space that feels safe. Honest sharing, in all areas of my life, has always seemed to move me forward. Prayerfully, I’m also asking that the Lord might continue to use this heavy season to allow myself, and others, to know and love Him more.
Still, I do pray for the healing of my mind, and soon. I continue to do my best to communicate with those closest to me, even if often the words to accurately describe what I’m really experiencing fail me. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I really don’t know how. I’m fighting harder than it would appear to keep engaging instead of withdrawing. I long to understand the difference between the sin and the science. My heart and my goal is to use godly wisdom and to make decisions that bring the most glory to Him. I’m confident that sometimes I fail. I’m grateful for God’s unending mercy and grace.
For now, just know that I’m trying. At what? Sometimes I don’t know. Give me grace when I’m slow to respond. Know that it really is me and not you when I just can’t. Pray with me and for me. Share with me how I can pray for you, too. Trust with me that God is using this for his glory, far beyond anything I may ever understand this side of heaven. Trust him with the same for whatever battle you may be facing today, too.
I’m not hopeless even if the weight has felt unending. I have a hope far greater than any understanding of where this is coming from or a sense of normalcy to life could bring. His name is Jesus. And some day, I will be with Him. I pray he is your greatest hope, too – even on the best of days.
Ashley M Spivey 