“What are these scars from?” she asked.
“They’re battle wounds.” I replied.
She looked at me a long time.
“Who were you battling?”
“Myself.” I replied.
My thinking this morning is how long does the battle have to go on? It seems far too long (and lately tedious). If my life had a sound-track, it probably be a very bland and dull roar, punctuated periodically by maniacal laughter. I hope yours is better than mine.
My battle with mental illness has scarred me for life. I can’t seem to put enough varnish on it to be presentable. I’m aware of all these things. And saddened that it has to be this way. My favorite author is Anne Lamott. She once made this observation, “You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town.” Monkeys are one thing, the circus is another.
“We walk by faith, not by sight,” my Bible tells me so. Each new day has faith embossed in it. Hebrews 11 tells me that many have gone before me, but they had to journey by faith through pain and suffering. Knowing this, I sometimes feel like “jumping ship.”
I hope you don’t regard me as unduly self-absorbed. Astonishingly, my meds are finally working. Life isn’t caustic any more, just mildly abrasive. But I am still a bit unhappy about my attitude. I thought that these meds would make me incredibly normal, but instead I feel blah.
But blah is good. The terror of running amok through another manic phase scares me thoroughly. Anything is better than that. No monkey, but still a circus. But I’m fully known by the One who loves me the most. Jude talks about being “safe.” This is our responsibility.
“But you, dear friends, must build each other up in your most holy faith, pray in the power of the Holy Spirit, 21 and await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will bring you eternal life. In this way, you will keep yourselves safe in God’s love.”