A Good Thing

Perhaps one of the hardest parts of This is coming to terms with accepting that you just aren’t what you used to be.

It’s one of the hardest things to accept, besides the medication, and the emotionally-lacerating process of the healing process. But what’s harder is often, the inability to convey it to other people.

Ambitious projects, impressive ideas, life-threatening deadlines used to speck her planner, in between examinations and parties and presentations, and now… she realises all she can manage are a few appointments on weekdays and church in the weekend. Even school becomes somewhat unbearable.

What happened to the high-flying, high-profiled high achiever?

And she forgot… that the hardest thing to accept, is that This means you just aren’t what you used to be anymore. At least for now.

Tiny things pull large triggers, and she forgot she needed to be extra careful with herself and understand how necessary, how vital it is for her to avoid these unnecessarily stressful situations, because… going through This means you just aren’t what you used to be anymore.

It’s hard enough coming to terms with that, but harder to have to deal with accepting that people don’t understand, most are not going to understand, and you can’t paste a FRAGILE sticker on your forehead to tell the Big People there are things you used to be able to handle which you can’t handle now, because they simply don’t understand.

“What was so hard about coping with that?! I just don’t understand!”

The question commands for your Uselessness to explain itself.

And it breaks you into pieces, because you’re asking yourself the same thing. Just, what was so hard about it?

She used to delegate jobs to people, organise large-scale college events, plan projects from scratch and see them come to pass, top the standard for subjects and now… She musters every fibre of her being just to handle the simplest of situations, and later, when the crowd leaves and the stage curtains draw down, she’s drowning in fear, suffocating in tears, crying in overwhelming desperation and depression and groping for an arm that can hold her for just a moment because she’s about to break down-no, the breakdown is happening, it already happened- because it was too much for her, she appeared that she could handle it because she had to but really, she couldn’t handle it, couldn’t answer Big People asking in frustration why she just couldn’t handle it- “What was so hard about it?!”, couldn’t understand her own Uselessness and she opens her eyes to see, to realise and to accept that-

– she just isn’t what she used to be.

At least for now, at This point in time.

Perhaps one of the hardest parts of This has to be coming to terms with accepting that- you just aren’t what you used to be. And the hardest part, perhaps, may be accepting that most people don’t, won’t understand.

The second time I went to see Miss B*, the lady before me walked out of the room, came up to me, smiled and said, “I read your blog and thank you for writing on it… I admire your relationship with God so much. Take good care.”

I only smiled back. Because only I know the black moments I have with Him. I fight, wrestle, cry, get angry, disappointed, frustrated with God, and ask him why.

Oh why. Just like everybody else.

Why God, why am I not what I used to be anymore. I’m angry, I’m hot, I’m disappointed, and most of all, I feel wretched and unworthy and Useless. There are times I tell Him how very, very angry and disappointed I am. You for real, Mister God? Really?

And then I hear a whisper:

You used to be very, very capable, and also proud, insensitive and self-absorbed. You used to esteem yourself in things you could show for, and my, were there many- but you were also shallow, superficial and lonely. And then This runs you over like a steam-train, runs you right over.

And you find yourself incapacitated, incapable, inadequate. But also humble, compassionate and grateful, letting go of what entraps so many who do not yet understand- the trophies, medals, certificates, accolades, the doing, doing, doing. You find yourself embarrassed, always covered in snot and tears, contrite, lowly, little, but also deeper, more loving, more understanding. There are tears and yet an emanating radiance, there is utter brokenness and yet you’ve never been more whole, there is blatant weakness staring back at you in the face, and yet, you’ve never heard that many people tell you how strong you’ve been. And you’re blaming me for all this now?

And then, I come to terms with the reality that-

-I’m just not what I used to be. But that could be a good thing. A Good thing.

And it becomes… less hard. Even though it hurts that the Big People don’t understand, may not ever.

Because in some ways I know for sure, God really does know what He’s doing, and He really does care more about us as individual persons, as human beings, as His children than what we could ever do, ever manage, ever handle. And this is only for a season. We will learn what we were meant to learn, come out stronger and better for it, and it will pass. Winter is but for a quarter of the year.

I’m just not what I used to be. Not as capable, go-getting, unstoppable, but also not as proud, unthinking, lonely, insensitive. And that could be a good thing.

Maybe someday at some point in our lives, we’ll find ourselves asking Him why we’re not who we used to be. Why so much was taken away from us, why we find ourselves under a shadow of a black cloud, why we find ourselves receiving that gaze of condescension and disappointment on the faces of those who don’t understand. And then when we have a moment to ourselves to see what we do have now, in exchange, perhaps we’ll also see-

-We’re not who we used to be, but that could be a Good thing.

I remember once, just minutes before a major exam, a distraught girl whom I hardly knew came up to me to tell me, in between heavy breaths and covered in tears that she had been seeing the doctors, she had been having serious depression, wasn’t able to take the paper, and would somebody please help her. We had to fight through the crowd to get to the invigilators, so I could tell them what she was trying to convey. She kept telling me how nobody understood, how everybody just stood apart from her that morning, not understanding, not reaching out to her. At that point, I just thanked God… for everything, for helping me understand, reach out.

To those of you struggling, know that This has a reason, and that yes, you may not be who you used to be, but that while some of the loss is temporary, some of the changes are also life-changing. And that could be a Good thing.

You’ll never hear Him say, “What was so hard about coping with that?!” Because He planned This for a season, a season that will pass, that will not last forever. It is a time of helplessness, brokenness and fragility that ironically, will form the foundation of something wholesome, healthy and strong. It is only for a season. This is something most people will not understand, and it can indeed feel very lonely, frustrating even. But He knows, He understands and He intended that we were not to be who we used to be, that we change from faith to faith, from glory to glory- and in spite of everything, that

This could be a good thing, and the beginning of something very good indeed.