Waiting In The Darkness

“I feel like an echo waiting for a voice of its own

I am waiting in the darkness for a word

To take me home

I feel like a broken shadow that is long since overgrown

A skeleton that's kept my memories

Written in it's bones”

— Branches, “Sparrow”

Have you ever felt like screaming so loud that you lose our voice? Simply to see if anyone can hear you. Can you imagine what would happen if not a single sound resonated back to you? If you, for a moment, had this sinking feeling of unimportance and had no other person to comfort you. What if you tried so hard to make a dent in this world only to be broken, yourself? Maybe you feel ignored and silenced. Maybe you just feel alone. Whatever it is, it is only a season.

Living in a constant state of unworthiness is not just a lonely place; it is a bitterly cold, dark non-existence. When you find that your life is nothing more than your next thought, you begin to regret your own thoughts. You begin to interpret other people's input as if it was toxic, and you hide in your own emptiness. 

I once tried to explain to someone what it is like living in a shell. It is like you’re standing in the middle of a crowded room and you cry out to those around you, but nothing more than a whisper comes out. You try to reach out to those close to you, but you fail to make contact. You start to doubt your own existence, and soon you are no more. Soon you fall with the sound of silence, and nobody hears your mental decline. Nobody sees the mental illness that is consuming you from within.

Then you have those around you telling you that you look fine. You have those around you who look through you. You have those around you who ignore you. You have those around you who mean well, but they don’t know what the big deal is. Your bed becomes more inviting. The darkness of the curtains drawn becomes your sanctuary. Life around you keeps going, but you can’t catch up. You are too far behind. You are standing on a train platform with nobody around and no trains in sight.

Living with an illness that sometimes makes you so weak, that you cannot even take a shower. You begin to question your own reality and see things through clouded eyes. The darkness sets in, and you can’t find your way. My health struggles dictate my physical abilities for that day, but most days I am just tired. Most days, I am left with two choices. Fight through the pain and weakness or stay in bed. 

Finding peace becomes a torment, and looking for help becomes a vacuum. You start to see things that are innocent and twist them till they become demonic. You start to see cancers in everyday life, and you begin to cower. The truth is that this is all in my head. My brain starts to create these alternate realities, and I fail to see through this. It isn’t my fault. Mental illness is just that … mental. By definition, it is in my head. That doesn’t make it wrong. That doesn’t reduce it. However, it does empower me. Knowing that this is in my head, I can seek treatment. I can begin to look in the right directions to find those who can save me. Evanescence says it best:

“Now that I know what I'm without

You can't just leave me

Breathe into me and make me real

Bring me to life”

— Evanescence, Brıng Me to Life

For the most part, I live my life with a sense of normalcy. It is a set of instances throughout my day that determine my next steps. I live with my faults and strive to not let them determine my outcomes. This is the easy part. Putting a smile on and saying hi to a friend is easy. The hard part is living with myself when I am alone.

The constant pulling of my spirit and the inferior thoughts of my own being take a toll on my soul. My strength is minimal, yet my spiritual strength is what sustains me. Finding a balance of letting go and letting the Lord take control is difficult. Yet the simple act of doing this makes the struggle easier.

Why do we struggle with letting go of things that are toxic? Why do we hold fast to those spiritually dead things? Why do we suffer in silence, yet blame others for not caring? Don’t get me wrong; mental illness is serious, and I would never trivialize it. I am just pointing out the juxtaposition of living in silence while craving assistance.

Understanding the fine line between helping someone in this state and just patronizing them is difficult to see. It is the single most important thing to look for. A recent episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine (Season 7, Episode 4) had a very small but powerful moment. Holt finds out that Diaz is suffering from a break-up. He never tells her to get over it or to suck it up. She tells him that she is going home to listen to death metal in the dark. Holt simply tells her that if she “ever wants a friend to sit with [her] and silently listen to death metal, just know [he] is always [there]”. A few scenes later, you see Holt and Diaz sitting in a bar with headphones on. She takes them off and asks Holt if he likes it. He responds with “not at all.” She asks him if he wants to leave and he responds with “not a chance.”

It isn’t simply the fact that he wants to help. It is the simple gesture of being willing to do something out of your comfort zone purely for the love of someone else. Letting your own guards down will, in turn, open you up to the most rewarding prize: love. 

Waiting in the darkness is a choice. Sometimes it seems like a punishment, but it is nothing more than a chosen response to illness inside you. Those of us affected by mental illness cannot see the difference between choice and punishment. We cannot see light. We cannot find the right words to say. However, it is not lost. All we ask for is a simple gesture of love and compassion.

Look for the path out. Look for those who are true. Look for an opportunity to tell your illness, “Not today!”

Be love. Be life. Be still and listen for the whisper of hope.