Four little words but they changed my perspective.
And my mood.
Something delicious inside me flipped.
Something lifted. Something healed, even.
How could so much goodness come from four little words?
I roll the words through my heart even now, and wham, they do more than any outward show of love or appreciation could.
The week had been a battle. Just my chronic D acting up, but it can pack a punch. And what people don’t understand sometimes, is that self-worth and confidence are what your faulty neurotransmitters attack with a vengeance, a chemical shift that brings an emotional upheaval that does not respond ever to a “get over it” approach.
You are literally swamped with failure at every turn, defeat stares back at you in every reflective surface, and your brain and your disorder concede over and over that things will never feel right again because your synapses begin to play like a broken record that you have absolutely zero control over.
I pray we exhibit compassion and understanding the next time someone says they feel so overwhelmed they can’t go on. Because they honestly “feel” that they feel that way.
So there I was, desperate to keep going, feeling more and more the oozing helplessness as all of these things crept into every part of my day, looking around and seeing everything that was wrong, and for the life of me, so disabled by the dysthymia, that I couldn’t find where the function for looking upwards had gone to.
Blogs I couldn’t finish mocked me.
Dishes piling up threatened to swallow me up.
Every inch of me felt like it weighed a ton, (which is an actual physical symptom of my particular brand of disorder) and I couldn’t figure out how to do anything at home without wanting to give up.
Putting away mail. Impossible.
Sort four towels still on the bed. Couldn’t deal.
Order a pizza for dinner. (Please, there’d be no cooking in my state.)
I would read chats and messages four or five times before I could extract real meaning. Eventually I gave that up too.
And with every acknowledgement that I was useless, the pit became deeper and wider and more threatening.
Until the four words.
My husband (we like to call him *Perry for fun or *Wilson, sometimes both though neither are his name in any sense. And if you check out my instagram account you’ll know he likes to hide from the camera), ANYWAY, my husband had been racking up long work hours, much-needed, and suddenly had to make an hours-long drive right after all these hours in the shop to make a delivery in another city.
Made longer by the fact the weather was bad and they’d not given him clear directions.
He came home from a 19 hour day exhausted and wiped. And all I could offer him was cold pizza and a hug I almost couldn’t deliver.
And I tried valiantly to be present instead of in the pit, and caring, and concerned even though my brain was doing its wonky dance inside.
And as we laid there after only really seeing him for 5 minutes because his day started in 5 hours again, I told him I was sorry.
Sorry for his long hours. Sorry for the drive. Sorry for the pizza.
And already half asleep, he peeped one eye open and said it was okay.
That the whole awful drive in circles and home again, he knew he couldn’t wait to get home.
“Because you were here.”
Because you were here. *Perry didn’t know how much my soul needed such words. He was just being the nice comfy husband that he is, and saying four words out of our 21 years of love.
But God knew. Knew my heart would grab and cling at words my brain would’ve ignored.
And those four words. Within the guidance of the Holy Spirit released something.
Chains fell off.
Very slowly, I laid there in the dark and grabbed for them. Hung onto them. Fed off them.
Came alive with them.
And maybe the dysthymic episode was already lifting around the same time, and maybe God had decided enough was enough?
All I know is that those four words released the doom and invited in purpose. Foiled the brain chemicals. Paved new tracks for my train of thought once on depression’s schedule.
Because you were here.
I think of the Psalmist. How many times he threw out words and thoughts of despair and defeat and hopelessness.
And then how often he grabbed for and clung to the promises and the precepts of the Most High who is incapable of leaving us high and dry and allowed the words of the Lord propel him into emotional and spiritual health again.
“Lord, because You were here..!”
“Lord, because you saw me in my affliction!”
“Lord, because of Your precepts and all the things that make You God, because You were here, You preserve my life!”
Peel back all the layers of Psalm 89 or 119.
See how when life becomes endless circles and hard work and nomadic, the very fact that I Am is with us and never leaves us and is waiting for us changes everything.
Today I start my prayer for the day with “Because You are here Lord, I know You’ll preserve me, no matter what comes.”
Thank Him for being faithful to cut through the fog and crush of life.
We become proof once again that He will be proven faithful.
It’s our four words of declaration, of thankfulness from the pits of life.
“Because You were here!”
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