just the beginning of the wrestling

It took all of an hour to feel utterly overwhelmed this morning and worrying about how we are going to survive once Bret goes back to work. Avery was being fussy and unhappy even being held and Jackson decided to burst into his own waterworks for some reason.  It's exhausting even when I'm not alone and I hit a state of mental panic imagining trying to deal with this on my own.  So Bret grabbed the kids for a double stroller ride to calm everyone down and to give me some peace and quiet.  I reheated my coffee and grabbed the new Truth Unchanging devotional that a friend sent me and started to read.

As with most times of stress these days, one situation turns into anguish over my brother. I'm simply reading the intro about God being with me as I read and desiring to speak to me and immediately my heart cries out why couldn't you have been with my brother?!  Why couldn't you have saved him; spoken truth to him instead of whatever awful lies he believed and agreed with to the point of ending his own life?! My head does not always go to this place.  I can rationalize my way out of being upset with God, but I know for the sake of my healing and for the sake of my relationship with Him, I have to be honest when those ugly thoughts surface. Ultimately I feel let down by God. I know our pain is His pain, but I question how he has let this (suicide) happen to my (immediate) family twice; 3 times including my cousin. I'll never understand his ways and why he prevents some suffering and allows others.

Then my mind launches into an entirely different train of thought... people say to treat mental illness the same as a physical disease.  I generally agree with this statement, as it speaks to the importance of caring for our mental health and combating the stigma around seeking treatment, but a death as a result of mental illness (i.e. suicide) is not the same as someone dying from an illness, such as cancer. In neither circumstance are we hoping for death to be the way someone achieves peace, but I would challenge that it is more devastating - or maybe just devastating in a different way - when someone chooses to end their own life as opposed to having their life ended by an illness.  With a physical illness there feels like so much more that is not within a person's control to bring about health than with someone whose battle is mental. Even as I type this, I'm challenged that maybe that's not really even true.

I've experienced anxiety and depression, but never to the point of feeling suicidal.  There are certainly genetic factors that impact my predisposition to anxiety and depression, but I'm also keenly aware of how my lifestyle and daily choices impact my mood and well being. I also know that it's a lot of work to address those issues and they're not so severe that I struggle to get out of bed in the morning nor have thoughts of wanting to end it all.  It's a battle to try to allow God control and to bring joy into my life when I'm feeling low; how much harder would it be for me to lean into his good news if I were feeling utterly hopeless?  I feel like I'm rambling, but mainly jumped on here to acknowledge that while I ultimately believe God is good and that he can somehow bring redemption, there's still wrestling to be done as I grieve.  I don't think I'll ever have all the answers, but I'm praying that as I wrestle and cry out to God when my head and heart are in chaotic grief, that one day I will predominantly feel peace.