In her book, Daring Greatly, Brené Brown says that vulnerability is “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” And that it’s not weakness, but courage.
This blog post was hard to write because of how vulnerable it feels to tell this story. I hope that I have been able to adequately describe a time where poor choices, isolation, and the worst spiritual attack I’ve ever experienced brought on a season of sadness and desolation that seemed boundless.
Brené, this is me entering the arena with courage and hope.
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In 2016, the year my wanderlust was born, I found myself running away from something bigger than boredom, burnout, or life devoid of freshness. I was trying to run from a depressive episode–my body’s response to cognitive dissonance.
Cognitive Dissonance almost sounds too simple, but its definition perfectly explains what was happening within me–my behavior and my beliefs were incongruent, and I was experiencing the consequences of it.
While I seemed happy and well, I was harboring deep feelings of sadness, guilt, and unworthiness. I was experiencing a crippling loss of energy and a lack of interest in things that once made me happy. My [unhealthy] coping mechanism became over-sleeping. When I wasn’t at work, I was in bed trying to avoid life. It was debilitating. Painful. Dark.
I hated it. But I didn’t know what to do. I was alone, isolated, and under spiritual attack. Unbeknownst to me, undealt traumas were resurfacing and became a weapon against me. But in the midst of it all, I never let go of my belief in God.
Shame and guilt caused me to run away from Him, but even as I tried to hide, I prayed that His presence would never leave me. I hoped to be rescued, for the voices calling me to sin to be quieted, and for normality to return. But none of that happened. Not fast enough, anyway.
I couldn’t understand why this was happening when I felt closest to God–when I was consistently reading the Bible, learning to seek Him, to lean onto Him, to discern His voice, and to see the unseen.
I entered this season of spiritual onslaught and uncharacteristic [ungodly] behavior when my relationship with God was at its peak. It came when I was walking faithfully with God. When my life was being used to bless others. And when it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
I was naive and unprepared.
Before I knew it, I wasn’t who I used to be; I was only a shell of my former self. I knew that I had to break myself free, but I didn’t know how to do that. I felt utterly powerless. I was sinking deeper into depression–caring less, sinning more, and feeling more unworthy. This was a cycle that could have been deadly.
But I believe that God heard the prayers I couldn’t utter. He kept me alive, knowing the plans He had for me–plans beyond that hopeless period.
It was a couple of years before I was able to walk out of that season. Not unscathed, mind you. The key to freedom was honesty. And the hallway to that door was community.
God surrounded me with people who got a glimpse of my heart–the parts that remained untouched by the attack. Their love for Him and me caused me to have the courage to walk to truth. To own my mistakes and ask for forgiveness. And to return to a life that better reflected my love and adoration for God.
This was not a smooth process. My life was turned upside down. But I was free. And there was no more cognitive dissonance. Instead, there was peace and assurance of restoration.
I slowly awoke from the state of spiritual fogginess I was in. Because I left the UK shortly after I opened up about what I was experiencing, that awakening began when I returned to Nicaragua. The sorrow was almost unbearable. I had to contend with depression again, alone and covertly.
After a few months of struggling not only with feelings of dejection but with counter-culture shock as well, I reached out to God one last time.
On my way to a solo-trip, much like the ones I took in the UK when I was trying to run away from myself and my reality, I asked God to reveal Himself to me because I’d grown so cold that I couldn’t feel Him anymore. And being that He always answers our prayers, on my way back from that trip, I felt His presence.
As I drove back home, I felt the Holy Spirit and was moved to worship, to confess, to ask for forgiveness, and to declare over myself LIFE IN ABUNDANCE. This was the beginning of my trek up the mountain.
A few days later, I had my first session with a counselor and began the unraveling of my story, from beginning to present. It was hard work, but it was worth it.
I’m no longer a runaway. I LOVE who I’ve become in spite (and because) of it all.
Deciding to
