In church today the teacher said, “We can’t go to church and just sit then complain later that no one cared about us, or no one said hi when we weren’t willing to open up.”
This is something I’m guilty of. I’m outgoing and a little bit of a social butterfly, but I am far from being an open book. It stems from years and years of bottling my feelings and not talking about the trials I’d experienced. I am quick to assume that no one wants to listen to what I have to say, so I keep things vague or to myself. The little bit I have opened up and shared is really just the tip of the iceberg for me. Not to say that my life has been a terrible horrible mess…because it has not. Not even close. If only people knew what I meant when I share that I experience anxiety, or the panic attacks that used to rule my life.
As I sat in church today I felt so lonely. I know we dont go to church for the people….but having someone to sit with makes all the difference. I went to my second hour class and anxiety filled my body and I wanted to run out. Eventually I did leave and went and sat on the couches. The third hour was the same, if not more! I love the gospel and what its done for my life but I did not want to be there. My shoulder angel and devil were having a war of what I should do. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t leaning more towards the devil side. I left feeling 1% better than when I walked into church that morning.
The last 4 months have been a real hardship for me. Injuring my foot has been one of the most painful lessons I’ve had to learn. I quickly slipped into a depression and was so angry. Angry that it happened. Angry that I no longer had any freedom. Angry that once again I was experiencing a trial alone. I’m far from perfect. I slip several times. I make mistakes. Sometimes I flat out don’t want to make the better choice just because. The first 2 months of my injury were the hardest. I wasn’t allowed to walk or drive. I’d work, sleep, eat, repeat! Church moved to the bottom of my list of important things. Prayers were done half asleep if I remembered. I became bitter. I hated everything. My anxiety started to resurface, and it came quick.
As I tried to pull myself out of the darkness I felt trapped in, a quote kept coming to my mind.
Sometimes the Lord brings us low so He can lift us high
When I first heard this quote I applied it more towards humility and pride. But this trial gave it a whole new meaning. I’ve been really lost with my purpose since coming home from my mission, as I’ve just kind of floated. I have random missionary opportunities, but ultimately I’m just trying to figure out this “adult” stuff. Being down for so long allowed me to realize that we ALL have a purpose. I fully believe the Lord puts us through trials to make us stronger, more loving, and experienced. I also believe that trials are painful, and are way easier said than done! Trials are very personal, and no one should compare or ever say that “there are worse things out there” What is difficult for someone may be easy for another, and vice versa. But I was able to see that this was a low moment. This was going to be a long, hard, low moment-but it wasn’t for nothing. Sometimes He brings us low so that we can see ourselves as He intends for us to become. He brings us low so that we can take a step back and learn, instead of rushing through experiences.
Our hurt, sadness, grief, and sorrow are not in vain. A dear sweet friend I made on my mission said something so profound to me before I returned home from serving. I struggle with the loss I’ve endured because I have only found a handful of people who can relate….and even then they were much older than I was, so it isn’t quite the same. I am hesitant to talk about my Dad. I get nervous because I feel pressure that I should be further along in the grieving process than I am. Often times I dont talk about anything related to that trial because people dont understand and cant relate. I made that comment to her then she said to me, “Just because I haven’t been through it doesn’t mean I don’t care or love you.” Though she said it with love, her words were sharp.
I think as women, as members of society, as church goers we often think that because someone else hasn’t suffered the same trial, they couldn’t possibly care or understand. Or they care because they’re a good friend and “should” but it doesn’t go beyond that. I’ve been thinking about this all week and todays lesson was exactly what I needed to hear. It was God reaffirming to me that He is aware of me.
Sharing my story and the deep parts of my trials is something I am learning….It doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m writing this because I feel like when you say it you are more likely to recognize it. Did that make sense? I caught myself this weekend holding back experiences in conversations because of how I feel about sharing to those who don’t relate. So writing this allows me to recognize it, and have opportunities to correct it. The Lord did not put us on this earth to go through it alone, to bottle our feelings and just endure to end. He wants us to find others, love and build them, share our experiences and enjoy to the end.
Be love. And when you be love to others they feel nothing but love.
Old ways wont open new doors. There is no growth in the comfort zone, and there is no comfort in the growth zone. I’m grateful the Lord gave me this injury. I mean it really really sucks. I think sucks and grateful can be in the same sentence, right? Anyways. I’m grateful for this sucky trial because it allowed me to step outside myself and see what I need to fix, and to open myself up. I want people to know they’re not alone. Those are my favorite words to hear, “you’re not alone.” More often than not I’m the one saying them all the while not believing them. But it is true. You are not alone. Just because someone can’t relate doesn’t mean they don’t care. Something I definitely need to work on. I’m grateful I don’t have to work on it alone!
The world according to me 