It doesn't take more than a glance to ascertain that I'm not the most physically imposing person. Sure, I can call myself "wiry" as much as I like, but the plain truth is that I'm just scrawny. Physical strength has never been part of my repertoire.
But it's always been important for me to perceive myself as being strong in other ways. I like to feel as though I'm self-reliant, able to take care of my own issues without bleeding onto others. I hate the idea of being needy, of relying on other people to prop me up and keep me going.
Whether I am actually strong in this fashion is surely up for debate, but the point is that at least I see myself that way. I do my best to present a picture of someone who doesn't need anybody else, who is self-sufficient and secure.
And it is fucking exhausting.
I've been to the doctor's office twice in the last few weeks. Nothing serious, just a constant fatigue that I can't seem to shake. Blood tests came back negative for the flu and other illnesses. During this last visit the doctor asked me if I thought I might be depressed. I told him I had been going for counseling the last few months, trying to work through some issues.
He told me something interesting that he'd observed in his many years of practice. He's noticed that people (especially younger people) who were struggling with anxiety or depression seemed to suffer from a suppressed immune system.
It certainly made sense in my case. Since this past September it seems I've been battling one cold after another. And maybe it's no coincidence that at the same time I've felt frustrated, stifled, and depressed. I feel like I'm unraveling, coming apart. I try desperately to keep it together so I don't have to face one of my worst fears . . . appearing weak.
But I'm starting to think that being weak isn't a flaw, it's just part of being human. Maybe there are times to be strong so others can lean on me . . . and times to lean on others. Maybe asking for help isn't selfish, just honest.
Maybe I'm missing a big part of sharing life in community by trying to be someone who never needs anything from anyone. I think I'm starting to realize that the truth of the matter is that I do need other people and it is okay to ask for help. Trying to pretend otherwise leaves me in the same old place of working hard to build a great exterior while everything inside is crumbling.
Being messy like this feels embarrassing. But I'm tired . . . and frankly my strength isn't sufficient to keep this monstrosity of self-effort propped up any longer.
I'm going to crawl into Father's lap, create a space of stillness and quiet, and let him speak to me. Maybe I'll need to let go of some things that I thought were essential. Maybe I'll even learn to cry again.
And perhaps in my weakness and messiness I will find him to be strong and his grace boundless.
