Some days I look around and feel like everything is bad news. The reports of depression and anxiety overwhelm me the most. It’s like an epidemic, and I despise it.
It’s especially disheartening because of how many teens and young adults are buried under the weight of anxiety and depression. The number of moms who can identify with watching their children suffer is devastating.
But we don’t want to talk about the suffering. In fact, we often speak badly of those who actually share their struggles while glorifying those who never speak a negative word, no matter their suffering. I recall when one such man passed away from cancer, much was made of the fact that he never spoke of his own pain and suffering but was always quick to pour life and joy into other people. Even when he was asked about himself, he deflected and poured positivity into others.
Don’t get me wrong, this particular man was amazing and he deserved every good word spoken about him.
But I also remember feeling the weight of condemnation pour over me because, just a few hours before, I had been asked a question about how things were going and I answered honestly. We were struggling, and I knew this person would understand. And pray. And support. So, I answered instead of deflecting. I was raw instead of oozing positivity.
But it suddenly seemed like that had been the completely wrong response.
And boom. Instead of being encouraged because I was able to share my struggle with someone who understood, I was once again buried in the epidemic of anxiety and depression.
So, what’s the answer?
Should we share and try to draw strength from one another? Or are we just dragging each other down when we share our struggles? Should we refuse to say anything negative or admit to any struggle just so we can make sure that others only see positive? Or are we actually causing more grief and harm by making one another feel guilty for honestly sharing our struggles?
I recently had an epiphany about all of this after a fellow mom shared with me the struggle that mornings were with her depressed teen. The conversation returned to me as I was having a hard time getting started myself the next morning. I was suddenly aware and cognizant of why MY mornings had been so bad recently.
Because someone else shared, I saw myself.
Because someone else was honest, I became aware.
Because someone else didn’t sugarcoat, I gained understanding.
Not condemnation. Not a beat-down for not being enough. But a realization of where I was. Reality. Clarity. Honesty.
It didn’t solve my problem. But it did move me forward. It made me see a purpose in my actions throughout the day. It provided a minuscule boost to my tiny allotment of will power. All because someone else shared a struggle instead of oozing positivity and denying the negative.
There’s a time and a place for the good. A time to radiate joy and strength and positive. A time to say, “I’m going to focus on your beauty rather than my hurts. I’m going to nourish you and allow that to comfort me in the process.” In fact, this should be our priority. It should be our aim and goal.
But there’s also a time to be real. Honest. Raw, even. A time to let others know that we’re not okay. That the suffering is getting to us.
Because in that honesty, we reveal that we’re human. We need. We don’t always handle hurt with grace and joy. Sometimes we just hurt. Others around us need to know this. They need to know that they aren’t condemned because they feel their pain and suffering. They’re not less-than because they can’t radiate joy all the time.
They need to know they’re not alone. They need to be awakened to realizations of, “Oh! That’s how I feel! It’s real! It’s legitimate! And maybe…just maybe, it’s solvable.
We need to share the good. Without a doubt. But we also need to share the struggles. The pain. The bad. Because in doing such, we just might find that we save a life simply by letting someone else know they’re not condemned. They’re not alone. They’re not done for.
They’re just real.
Not Quite Ordinary 