The Hidden

Written on a bus in Honduras, 10/26/16:

I wear my anxiety on my sleeve…  But only to hide the depression.

Anyone could ask and I could/would talk about anxiety for hours.

I could tell you anything:

The times it’s worst.

What pills I take.

How I cope.

How I get others to understand.

But I only talk about the surface.

If you go beneath the surface you find

Comparison.

Depression.

Hardness.

The stuff that is hard to talk about and no one wants to hear about.

The stuff I don’t talk about.

The stuff no one knows about me.

I guess different people know different pieces, and I’m sure if they got together and sorted through the distorted truth, lies, and crushing confessions, they’d put together a rough mosaic of who I unfortunately am.

But unless you are God, you won’t get anything past the surface from me – not face to face at least.

And sometimes … a lot of times … I try to keep it from even Him.

I harden my heart.

I shut down.

I tell Him that He made me wrong and doesn’t deserve knowing His “mistake.”

I push.

I scream.

I wiggle away from His ever-loving Presence.

I fight Him by pushing away the people He put in my life.

If they can’t touch or impact me, then how much can He do?

But reality is, a whole heck of a lot.

And the tears I hold back from the agony of pushing away my True Love are bound to come bursting forth eventually.

Eventually is coming.

 

One can only release a few drops of built up waterfall for so long.