Visions and Pain

I am sitting at my desk on this beautiful Friday morning with my mouse in one hand and a spray bottle of 8.0% menthol smelling and feeling like a 90 year old woman. My appointment with the doctor I wanted to see was cancelled because apparently something came up after I’d waited a month to get in to see this particular woman, and I am almost at a place where I MIGHT regret having told them  suck it “I’ll figure something else out” because I am in so much pain. I’m SO sick of hurting, I seriously am. It comes in flares almost and it seems like I had a good long break from it there for a while and I was almost beginning to think it was all mental, and then a couple nights ago I was SO miserable and achy and fell asleep laying in bed doing yoga stretches and then woke up this morning hardly able to look down because the physical pain is so bad, I know it’s not just in my head. 

I’m pretty tired of having this conversation with myself too. 

Yesterday I was severely at the rock bottom of the bell jar and was in the deepest pit of despair I seriously went on Facebook, admitted I was dying inside and asked for prayer. I felt like I owed it to my friends on there, to be completely honest about ALL aspects of my mental health, not just the good times. I wasn’t really sure what kind of response I was going to get and for the first few hours I didn’t even want to go back and look and see. It was when the phone calls and text messages started coming in that I realized I had made the right choice by posting it. I think it’s super important to be honest about ALL of it and not just the days I feel like a million cupcakes! Who likes admitting that they are depressed and feel like shit and hate that they are alive? Not anyone I know in particular. But when those days happen, it needs to be addressed. I preach that when someone succumbs to their mental health and I need to stand by it when mine is tearing me to shreds. 

I had a vision last night, of what I felt like inside. I wish I could paint it or create a “gif” of it. It was pretty interesting in my head. I’m sure I could make a fondant character of it  since I cant draw for beans. It was me, a silhouette even, and in the center of my being was the Holy Spirit. A light, almost like a star flowing out in the very midst of myself. And it was holding an umbrella. I’m talking, a dollar store friggin sagging umbrella, over it’s head because all along the walls of myself, from the top of my head down, was like this dark blue fountain over flowing. A dark blue fountain of watery sorrow, lining the inside walls of myself and just dumping all over the center light of my spirit that was holding onto this umbrella and still shining as bright as the sun. The Holy Spirit was still very much alive and very much at work, but it was as if it was sitting on a rock waiting out the storm but certainly not defeated or washed out by it because He knew it was going to pass.

It was at that moment that I understood that these waves of depression aren’t “spiritual warfare” because the Holy Spirit never leaves me or cant ever be defeated. That this is truly a battle exclusively in my mind. It was like the Lord showed me that although the sorrow is pouring from my head, my mind down throughout my entire body, the Holy Spirit is there waiting. Strong, bright and alive. With an umbrella to keep Him from getting wet. Waiting it out to then again shine like a rainbow. 

 

Gives me such great hope and clarity…… as well as an idea for another tattoo.

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