My Story in 2 Parts - The Healing

Soon after we returned to Madagascar after having Elodie, the emotional roller coaster of my life remained in the valley and only sunk deeper. With the heat upon us and a screaming baby, I was struggling to cope every day. I didn't feel like myself. I thought it odd that I had yet to bounce back from having a baby. I was tired, had no energy, no patience, no desire to play with Waverly, no motivation to take care of the house or cook dinner. I felt trapped in this town and, as Chandler shouldered the burden of house duties, meal preparing, Waverly entertaining, and all of my crazy, I started to feel useless and out of control.

I think Chandler and I were both hoping the upcoming visit from my mom, stepdad, and brother would be the push I needed to bounce back. And while I was ecstatic to be with them, I was still struggling internally. It constantly simmered beneath the surface; I enjoyed each day and each event, but my temper was short and my irritability long. Then there were times, quite frequently, I believe, when my struggle would boil over and I sat with my mom or with Chandler and just cried; so desperate to be fixed and unable to find the answers I needed as it seemed that my prayers weren't heard and Scripture was silent. Even with my family there, I was drowning.

At this point, Chandler strongly encouraged me to contact our Member Care consultants knowing they would be able to shed some light as a third party. With a few emails back and forth, and a depression survey, they recommended that we come to South Africa for some help. I was willing to accept the help because I needed to get away from life and all of its demands, but I wasn't quite ready to recognize the depth of my depression or admit my need for medication. 

Just one visit with the psychiatrist made it undeniably clear that without medication, I wouldn't have a chance of getting better. My depression was rooted in a chemical imbalance that no amount of "talking it out" would fix. Gratefully, I accepted the medication and within a week started seeing some improvement. Coupled with twice weekly visits to a counselor, my psychological state was in a better place. I learned to embrace and appreciate my roles, even though they didn't meet my expectations from when I was first called to international missions. I began to think more clearly and more rationally. I set small goals for myself and started accepting life in smaller chunks instead of always looking at the bigger, more overwhelming picture. 

In hindsight, it seems so elementary: needing help organizing my day-to-day, learning to appreciate my first ministry to our family, making a monthly dinner schedule, being in the Word every day, and divvying up chores each day, but I had reached a point where I couldn't make those decisions myself. It just required too much. My counselor made reference to "a state of crisis" where I was incapable of making subjective, rational decisions. I absolutely needed help with the every day decisions.

A month later, on our return home to Madagascar, I felt hopeful and I hadn't felt that in a long time. I came across this verse in Job 5:18: "For he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal." The Lord had allowed me to be wounded and injured, but He is also the One who is binding me up and healing me. It's not an instantaneous healing; it's a constant work in me. I know that as He heals me, I have to be willing to be healed. I rest in His bindings, allowing Him to hold me together (Colossians 1:17), and heal me.