The poor in spirit are blessed,

For the kingdom of heaven is theirs. Matthew 5:3

I hope this post finds the ones who need it. 

I have found it difficult lately to put words to how I am feeling. My husband and close friends know my heart and my struggles, how I have dealt with “down days” and depression my whole life. Even writing that feels so exposing, and I have too many thoughts about it to even list them all here. I am struck even now with just the steadfast love of God and what a good, good Father He is and has been to me — to see me fully and know me and still love me. 

That phrase — “my whole life” — it makes me think about my young self and how she sometimes felt like no one understood or saw her, how I still feel like that sometimes, and how God was always there, and He always saw me, and He always loved me. Whatever your “my whole life” story is, He knows, and He cares about it, and He has always, always loved you. You have never been alone.

As I was praying this morning, I was trying to put before Him and let go of whatever this bundled up mess of emotion I have inside me. It was akin to self-pity, but I didn’t feel it was a spirit of complaining. It was more feeling “poor in spirit,” bereft of my ability to cope with life, and just not understanding why I have a different mind than what (it seems) others have. Why I don’t ever really feel giddy or bubbly, why I always hit a wall with my energy, why the world feels too much for me most of the time. Why relationships are draining, why I am always waging war with myself, why I overthink everything…

I am not an anxious person; I have deep-seated joy and I feel very intensely. I love my people. I have always been very even-keel, just on a lower vibration so to speak. But lately I have kind of been wishing I was not me, but someone else who can “do life” because it’s “just what you do.” No thinking, no negotiating with my own body. I was meditating on the verse, “Be silent before the LORD and wait expectantly for Him,” and I simply confessed, I am tired of being me.

I have been reading the book Introverted Mom by Jamie C. Martin, and it has slowly been helping me understand that being introverted is not a shortcoming, something to fix. It is how God uniquely wires some people to take in the world with a wide-angle lens and think deeply about things other people may miss or not be able to articulate. It is tiring because we are constantly absorbing everything at a pace that is slower than everything that is happening. The author makes the case that we have to care for ourselves, and our extroverted brothers and sisters in Christ should also make room for us and remember our needs as we so often accommodate theirs.

Introverts, I would guess, often deal with depression. So this is for you, too, if you have ever felt this way, or have ever thought that the way you’ve been your whole life makes up the entirety of your story. It doesn’t. There’s more.

God whispered to me, “I know you are tired, but I made you with a purpose — to glorify me.” And suddenly, the floodgates opened up: He gave me everything. He wore my shame. He went to Hell and back for me because He loves me. I have my personal struggle, the thorn in my side, but guess what? It is His! I gladly give it all to the One who paid it all. I have a feeling of sadness? It is His! I have a meager, finite portion of energy today? It is His! A thought I keep wrestling? His. A breath in my lungs? His. An iota of anything? His.

My story. My whole life. Me.

His.