“There can
be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love.” - Martin Luther King,
Jr.
I keep
finding myself needing to write but unable to put words to page unless it is
for something I have to do like a recent grant proposal. As badly as I need the
outlet personally and professionally I just can’t seem to make myself do
it. I ask myself why. A lot of it is because of the emotional
strain I’ve been under due some touchy matters (don’t worry, my wife and child
are just fine). I feel hamstrung to talk about what is really bothering me
because it would either violate someone else’s confidentiality or draw
attention to someone that is already deeply vulnerable. This runs contrary to the lesson I learned
years and years ago which is secrets and silence will kill me. So, I’ve been managing as well as I can in
the midst of this silence where I’ve been cut off from my primary supports.
It’s not
been pretty but by and large I’ve done pretty well. I’m still experiencing the
longest sustained period of my adult life of not being depressed (Yea!!!). This
is saying a lot because I’ve weathered some pretty significant strains in the
last few years, among them are my mother’s decline and death and a vocational
rejection that still has me searching for direction. Nevertheless, I persist… and
I’m not just surviving, I’m actually thriving for the most part.
But this
damn silence is about to kill me. Talking to my wife and therapist just isn’t enough
to save my soul from the darkness that secrets and isolation breed. All this is
climaxing in a way that something has got to give soon. I’ve been going downhill for the past month
or so and I need that to stop NOW.
Maybe the
answer is to focus on my particular struggles within all of this. As I consider
that angle, I see where a primary agony for me is my feeling of powerlessness
to help someone I love not hurt more or outright self-destruct. Powerlessness is a difficult experience no
matter how self-aware one is.
I am
powerless to fix the situation and I have to be careful how much responsibility
I take for helping because of some very complicated risks. Those two factors
collide in ways that leave me feeling agitated and downright angry… well,
really I feel fear and sorrow but for now they are manifesting as anger.
As I’ve
looked for outlets and understanding I’ve remembered that the Psalmist knew much
about powerlessness and for now I find comfort in those cries. I look to the
One who knows all of us because we are fearfully and wonderfully made… so beautiful
and so precious that it evokes our deepest fears and our most profound awe.
May this
journey through powerlessness lead me to a deeper understanding of all who love
and need love’s healing.
