Time to Heal

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When I started this project 9 months ago, I promised to be truthful and real, no matter how it may look. I didn’t want to sugar coat my life or make it something it wasn’t because this project was to be about realness, about being broken and finding Jesus in those moments when your low seems like it can’t get lower. It’s also about the good moments, the love and joy and the healing and happiness. It’s about life, the good and the bad and the tough and the easy. I never want it to deviate away from those principals.

With that said, I have struggled with depression most of my adult life. Sometimes, it hides in the inner corners of myself, and I push through with smiles and laughter and it doesn’t seep into my daily life. Then, there are those times where seemingly out of nowhere it grasps me and drags me down, confining me to the comfort of my billowy blankets, unable to face the world. When the latter time start to outweigh the better times, I know it is starting to be a problem.

That time is now.

In deciding to open up about my depression on here, I am doing something that many people don’t like to do, myself whole-hearty included.

I am admitting that there is a weakness in me, a flaw, that I am no quite sure how to handle.

I am admitting, to the friends, family and readers that I don’t have it all together. That, is a very hard thing to do. But, then again, it isn’t much harder than navigating the world of depression itself.

There are people out there that believe depression isn’t real, that it is or isn’t cured by medicine, that it’s lazy, that it’s a matter of “get over it”, that it is selfish, that it is an excuse .. that it’s this or that.

I am here to tell you my personal story, and only that. I know depression robs me of moments with my family and loved ones. It steals my joy. It takes the things that I hold dear and makes them undesirable. It takes the core of who I am and leaves me lost and lonely, even amongst people who desperately want to pull me out of it. I know depression is real, that I fight it daily, and that there is no one in this world that wants rid the sadness inside of me more than I do.

My husband and I made the move from Mississippi to Maryland to live closer to family and pursue our dream of being full-time missionaries. That is still our dream. Right now, my sweet husband is allowing me time to heal myself, before we move onto the next phrase of trying to help and heal others.

This season, as I am calling it, in my life is going to be about me. Of finally taking my health in my own hands, and doing what I need to do to heal. My 20’s have been plagued with these bumps and bruises of pains and hurts that I have gathered along the road of life. I’ve tried to heal them with time alone, hide them away and bury them, but they always come back, bigger and stronger.

Now, I have to face them.

I’m telling you this now, because that’s my job as Editor and Writer of this project. I am telling you this now because there are dark spots in our lives sometimes, and we don’t have to hide them, not from God, not from our loved ones, and not from anyone. I am telling you this so that you know, whatever you are dealing with, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel pain, to crumble sometimes, to not stand strong.

It’s okay to take time to heal.

I thank you all for your kindness, your thoughts and mostly, your prayers during this time,

Jenny

Photo Credit by Flickr Creative Commons Vinni123

Why I won’t go Home

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I was born and raised in the great city of Pittsburgh, a city I love, a city I stand for. It doesn’t take long into first meeting me that I start to gush about my hometown. I love the sports, the black and gold nation of Steelers, Penguins and Pirates and their fans. I love the bridges that are snapped in like Legos over the still rivers that line a beautiful skyline.  I love the people, a small town demeanor in a big city lifestyle.

Pittsburgh is my home, and I miss it everyday. It’s been almost 6 years since I have lived in it’s billowing comforts, but I know I won’t ever live there again.

I know that I won’t ever go home.

Since my move away from Pittsburgh, I have lived in many places and have been willing to move whenever I felt like I needed or wanted a change or whenever I felt God calling me somewhere. But, I have never once thought of living back in Pittsburgh.

If you have been a reader from awhile, you know that my upbringing didn’t foster a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings in my life. I grew up in a family that defines dysfunction and there are wounds from it that are still barely scabbed over. Unfortunately, those pains hang over my beloved city like an inescapable chill. A visit there doesn’t bring me the same comforts that it used to, but instead attempts to claw at my healing and rips away old wounds while creating a halt to my moving forward.

This is a very hard balancing act, because I have two younger brothers that I love more than life itself in that city. I have an aunt that became like a mother to me, took me in when my mom threw me out like the garbage and she raised me like her own. I have a step-dad that is an important male figure in my life and who has never once treated me like anything but his daughter. There are friends, best friends, that helped me through the hell of those rough years and the pain afterwards.

In other words, in the darkness of that pain, there is so much light.

In a way, Pittsburgh is just a metaphor for the life we live everday. There is pain and darkness, hurt and sadness. There are open wounds that we try and cover over each day, hoping that in time they will heal and the sting of life won’t hurt quite as much.

But, in those moments there is light. There is a God to lean on, to provide us strength and healing like nothing else can. There are friends and family that guard our hearts and build us back to being stronger than we ever were before.

I won’t ever live in Pittsburgh again, but the longer I let my hometown stay besieged by the pain, the more power I give that pain, and the people that caused it. The more I shield myself from the darkness, the more I miss the light.

Part of this move to Maryland was to be closer to the people I love in the city I call home, and yet here I am dragging my feet afraid to open the door.

I will visit and see the people I love. And I will look at the foundation that sits in between the rivers, and think about sitting in it’s midst on hot summer days studying for finals. I will remember the good I achieved there, the non-profit I started, Hearts and Crafts, that partners the Art Institute with children at Children’s hospital. The Habitat work that lead me to New Orleans and ultimately Mississippi. The people that shaped my life, the road that lead me to who I am now.

I won’t see the clouds, but the light shining through.

Is there something you can’t face for fear of pain?  Please let me know how I can pray for you.

Jenny