I am in pain; only my pain is not visible.
Growing up, I remember watching TV shows where men wore empathy belts and bellies to experience similar pains that women felt while pregnant or during their monthly cycle. The men would all crumble under the weight of the pains, realizing that women experience some gnarly pains and somehow still press on with their day like there is no issue. A woman’s body is phenomenal in creation. Between our monthly cycles and childbirth, our bodies are literally just built different and can endure pain in a significantly different way from men. We are powerful beyond words!
Yet the beauty of those empathy belts and bellies is to allow men to feel that mimicked pain to gain a better understanding. It is not meant to last forever, but I assume that men may experience phantom pains after the experience is over, or at the very least be more emotionally sensitive to women in the future. While I have never needed to wear one of those bellies or belts, I naturally do feel the emotions of others as though it is actually my life that is being altered. I can understand and appreciate their pain in a way that is almost impossible to explain or comprehend. My empathy is both a blessing and a curse, allowing me to uniquely appreciate the feelings of others, but also causing me to carry that pain with me. I do feel the emotions of others in a way that weighs far too heavily on me. And to be honest, right now that weight is killing me.
Last week, I transparently shared that I have been wrestling with thoughts of value and borderline suicide. I shared that while I am not actively suicidal, I have been in the past, and I do think far more often than not that the world would be better off without me. Many may look at my life right now and wonder why I feel this way. They may question my spiritual beliefs, erroneously believing that because I am a Christian, I cannot be willing to commit [what they believe is] the “ultimate” sin. However, what they do not even try to understand is that the pain that I am feeling today is because of events that occurred decades ago. They also don’t understand that I am both neurodivergent AND I have a chemical imbalance occurring within me. Those two truths alter my brain and what I am able to comprehend and do. My mind does not function typically. I am not typical. I am neurotypical. So not only am I currently recalling the sheer hell that I experienced in my youth, but I am also fighting this battle with less strength than is given to the average person. I am expected to reconcile, adapt, and overcome hurdles higher than anyone has ever seen before, while being permanently and uncontrollably limited by the differences within my body and mind.
Yet the startling truth is, if I had a physical and visible disability, I would likely receive less criticism and more support. Neurodivergence is a prime example of “out of sight, out of mind.”
I am in pain; only my pain is not visible.
This past week, I made the very public decision to choose me and my health over the needs of others by stepping down from a leadership position that I had held for three years. I cried and became inaudible when making the announcement to my colleagues on Thursday. My tears came from having to step away from serving my colleagues and from admitting, in front of a room full of people, that I needed help. Many people commended me on my transparency and bravery, yet they may never understand how difficult that was for me. I’d been pretending to be perfect and “ok” for so long that I was starting to believe the lie myself. I simply believed that my body was just aging haphazardly… nope, turns out that stress and emotional dysregulation were physically presenting themselves. The internal conflict had an external manifestation, and that was hard to explain to everyone. I felt like I was weak; like I should be stronger because I am a woman and we can endure so much.
Internal thoughts dismissed, I stood in front of my colleagues and admitted my imperfections and need for support. I’m still shocked to silence by that evening because, for as much as I do share, I often tend to leave my negative truths out of conversations, believing that no one needs to know that much about me. Truth is, when it comes to God, He can use even my uncomfortable truths in His kingdom and for supernatural purposes. So, I shared what no one anticipated, praying that God would somehow still get the glory.
And I think He did.
The support that I have received since sharing my truth reminds me that I was wrong in my previous assumption- apparently, people do care.
One of the most beautiful blessings occurred this week. The day after I had journaled (again) about feeling like the world would be better off without me, a student messaged me and asked me what I wanted from Dunkin. I nearly cried! The fact that, as they were headed to get their own caffeine fix, they thought of me just made my heart melt. I immediately pulled out my journal and wrote:
“Thank You, Lord, for the reminders that You have sent… and for the ability to see them.”
God has been reminding me that not only does He love me, but that others believe I matter; however, sometimes in my pain, I cannot see it. The pain- that unresolved pain from events that occurred over three decades ago- often comes in like a cloud, concealing the joy and goodness that the Lord has so graciously provided me. It distracts me and consumes me, prohibiting me from seeing, knowing, and accepting the truth of God. And on top of all of that, the pain lies to me, telling me that I do not matter and that the world would be better off without me. When the cloud clears the sky, I can see the Truth shining like the bright Son that He is. I feel His warmth and love, and they comfort me in a way that I cannot even begin to describe. Yet when the cloud returns, it is all-consuming and extremely suffocating. I cannot breathe; I cannot live.
So that is my prayer this month. Not only am I praying that I learn how to love and care for myself this month, but I am also praying that I continue to heal so that I can see and feel the Son.
I am in pain; only my pain is not visible. It occurs within me, but rules life around me. Today, I am refusing to give in to my pain and choosing God’s strength instead.
Be blessed.
If you or someone you know is considering suicide or self-harm, please know that you are loved and help is available. Please call or text 988; get the help that is needed.
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