Sunday, 12 January 2014

You Are Part of The Medicine, Not The Cure

Depression and anxiety issues are incredibly relevant to so many people nowadays. I would think that you reading this know at least one or two people who have suffered from these terrible and dark conditions or perhaps you suffer with it yourself.

Depression is ugly. No question.

To me it is one of the ugliest things I've ever known. It tries to suffocate joy and confiscate hope. It takes a beautiful and capable spirit and tries to drag it down, sometimes further than was thought possible. It tries. Yes, it tries.

But there is always hope. Yes, sure all of the counsellors say this, all of the supportive media declares this... the campaigns, the friends, the family... And they speak truth, definitely and I am an advocate for the truth, but sometimes a smile and a hug isn't enough.

We want more of an answer. Well, sure, I think that's fair. One-sentence responses are fine and dandy but generally they don't suffice an aching spirit. It's not wrong to encourage, by any means, and I urge you to do so, but some days people need to cry and just be heard. To be understood, if only a little.

I guess, I'm just spilling out my experience and what I feel I've learned. "Positivity" is a great medicine, but it's not a cure. And if you are living with someone who unfortunately deals with depression and high anxiety then you have to know this:

You are a part of their medicine. So you help, you comfort, you speak truth and you pray for them and don't stop. However, you are not the cure. You can't fix someone and you can't fix yourself. Trust me, I've tried. My mother's tried a hard many years. Don't say we don't have enough faith, we don't have enough trust in God, we just need to focus on good things... You don't know. You just don't know.

If someone you love is alone in a very dark place, it rips and scratches and gnaws at you horridly and all you desire is for them to be happy, or better yet to be joyful. I understand the pain. I know the anxiety that comes when you walk on eggshells to avoid stirring up discomfort in someone who is sick. But they need someone who can be strong, not fearful... honest, not passive... faithful, not proud.

That is the medicine.
The cure? My mother's learning it everyday. It's not an easy, five-step cure. It's a daily commitment to God and letting Him reveal your beauty, your purpose and His love. And sometimes you don't feel God. It's true. But listen to this if nothing else:

God's love is infinitely more powerful than a feeble and distrustful human emotion.

In essence, I pray depression can be managed better, ultimately cured forever, but if it isn't I will not stop hoping. I've learned to bend and not break. I've learned to be grateful. And often I feel I've learned enough from the disease, and beg for it to end but I haven't a clue. Refined through the fire... pruned and clipped to bear fruit... pinched and stretched to form the pot. The pain is all very real and yet sometimes it is all very purposeful. Don't give up on your loved ones or yourself, but don't put them on your back as if you are capable to cure them. Take care of yourself and you help them more. Remember, you are only a part of the medicine.

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