Part of My Story…
By: Elena Limoges
Thick night descended on my neighborhood, and it was time for bed. My eyes were heavy as I shook the small chalky tablet from the bottle and stopped for a moment, squeezing it tight in my hand. I closed my eyes and sighed.
“I hate that this is part of my story”
Profound longing welled up inside me for a magic wand that would erase this piece of my reality.
The dust has long since settled after my initial mental health crisis, yet its impact remains. For a long time, I used to cringe at the memory of this period of my life. When I needed mental health help years ago, I was two months postpartum with my body, mind, and hormones still recovering. In addition to our newest blessing, my family had much to be thankful for, we were serving in our community, giving in our church, and trying to love others well. Simultaneously, though, my husband’s work, our lack of external postpartum support, and the encroaching force of low sleep began to produce fissures in our family. I was buckling under the weight of all these joyful and difficult circumstances. Finally, I cracked under the pressure and extraordinary healing was needed in the aftermath.
The next few months were a blur of new medications, doctor’s visits, sleep issues, and all that comes with caring for a brand-new baby and a toddler. God was with me and healing me on the arduous journey, yet the feelings of emotional weakness and embarrassment remained like a thick cloud encircling me. Something deeper than embarrassment had also snaked its way deep into my identity.
As I processed this experience with friend, she stopped me to ask the deeper question of why I was ashamed. Why shame? My friend went on to explain that shame gets its twisted roots deep inside of us. Nothing good comes from its distorting work in our hearts and it is not from God (see Romans 8:1).
I asked, “If not shame then what? How do I respond to this experience?”
Her simple response: “you can mourn it.”
Years earlier, when my diagnosis was new, the label of it stung and I questioned the goodness of God. My counselor at the time helped me grapple with this new identity by considering the fall written about in Genesis chapter 3. She explained that all of God’s creation is marred by sin. No human is immune or exempt. My diagnosis is not sin, but it is part of the brokenness I carry in a fallen world. I know now that it is alright to grieve this. In fact, grief is good and healthy as we walk with our Creator down this long road.
We are invited to grieve with Him as we are promised in scripture that. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; he saves those crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18 CSB). We do not hurt alone and we are not left languishing to discern our own way in the dark. Instead, God loves us profoundly and grieves with us. This Grief can be a sacred thing as it draws us nearer to our good and perfect Father. He holds us securely when we feel that everything is falling apart.
We grieve as we move in this healing with our Savior, but shame is something entirely different. It is a distorting force, like the reflection of a fun house mirror. We look at the image it creates and see an ugly and broken shell of a person. We see ourselves as warped or damaged, neglecting the truth that we are image bearers of God. This shame makes us long to hide or disappear as we feel disqualified to serve God or lead in our areas of giftedness. We bury our spiritual gifts in the hole that we hide in. God’s love is greater, though, and He invites us into something new and whole. “My soul, bless the Lord, and do not forget all his benefits. He forgives all your iniquities; he heals all our diseases. He redeems your life from the pit; he crowns you with faithful love and compassion” (Psalm 103:2-4, CSB). He invites us to flourish as we use our gifts to love others well. “Therefore, I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is in you through the laying on of hands, For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgement” (2 Timothy 1:6-7, CSB). God’s restorative plan grows in the soil where we saw only destruction and disqualification.
If the twisted sinews of shame have taken hold in the deep and hidden places of your story, take heart dear one, because God is powerful to overcome. He is near, walking with us to birth beauty, even in our mental health struggles.
So, I open my clenched fist and swallow the little pill hidden inside. As I do, I remember that the stories we hate about ourselves will be transformed into a breath-taking testimony.
