Let me begin this chapter with this song of David. As I claim in the previous chapter, my story— every story, trifle or not— begins with God.
Psalm 23
A psalm of David.
1 The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
I vividly remember that one winter evening, while my husband was soundly asleep beside me, I was silently wailing, trying to cover my face with my tear-soaked pillow and fearing that I might wake anyone of my whimpering. Since the death of my parents, I would have those tormenting episodes of extreme mental and emotional breakdowns. I had them, coming in all forms, all the same: messy and painfully gross. They are messy and gross, for I let out all of my body fluids as possible— a sorrowful fusion of my bottomless tears and endless perspiration. And as I let them out came my loud cries while rolling myself on the floor, banging my head on the pillow, and shouting for my parents’ names in anguish. I was a perfect picturesque of utmost human suffering. Then, I would stay like that for minutes, sometimes hours, until my old friend Sleep takes over my consciousness and comforts me in the realm of dreams.
I had those episodes of emotional and mental breakdowns, and no one knew about it. After a couple of attempts, I would try to tell my husband about it. Even so, I felt like he wouldn’t understand the depth of my pain. Every time I would try to come out and seek consolation from a fellow human being, I felt like my efforts were futile. No one is ever going to understand how much pain I feel. That’s how I felt and thought, so I decided to fight those battles in silence. Sometimes I felt like losing the fight, so I withdrew from everyone else. I deactivated my social media accounts and deleted my messenger to completely disconnect myself from the world and from my loved ones. In doing so, it would either be in the hope that someone would finally notice my absence and miss me or my crazy vengeance on people I care for who are just too busy to care for me. The longest I was off the grid was 30 days, but on average, I would be gone for about a few days.
Dear me! Many times have I wished that social media was never invented. For the most time that I decide to come back after having pulled myself back together, there is always one thing that surprises me even though it’s expected: NO ONE DID NOTICE MY ABSENCE. Not that I expect the whole world to notice, but seriously, none among my close friends and neither of my siblings did. Well, there was one exception, my darling Lily Adelaide did and chatted with me that she was worried about me. And it melted my heart away. At least, for her, I mattered.
Was I only longing for affection and attention? Maybe, yes. Were my feelings valid? Absolutely, yes. In this generation of connectivity, I think each of us long for connectedness. And ironically, despite the convenience of connectivity, more people feel disconnected. The more I feel disconnected. Is it because we tend to always take those that truly matter for granted? I can only wonder.
I remember that I was also in one of my social media hiatuses on that one winter evening with my husband was soundly sleeping beside me on the bed. I was silently wrestling against myself from completely breaking down again. But that night, I knew exactly that it was a mental and emotional breakdown. It was a fight that I felt so helpless that not even having a sleeping husband beside me could help me win it. It was a battle between me and the ancient enemy-- the devil who seeks to destroy and kill every work of God's mighty hands. It was a fight where the enemy's voice was so strong, urging me to get up from bed, go to the kitchen, and use the first sharp object I saw to hurt myself. The pain from mourning for my parents’ loss was so impossibly bearable at that point. I literally could not breathe. And thoughts in my head were like flashes of lightning, prompting me to just end it.
It was an ordeal that lasted for hours until I grew tired and slept on it. The next morning was a Good Friday, the day of Jesus’ death. I recall exactly; it was Good Friday of the year 2021st. Since Raymond had to work, I was left alone at home again. I prayed to God and thanked Him for saving me from the other night’s emotional turmoil. With His wisdom and grace, that Good Friday was momentous. I prostrated myself before my Creator and asked Him to take all of my pains away, that he takes with Him on the cross every single pain in my past that crucifies me. It was again excruciatingly messy and gross— but a sweet kind of breakdown. I held my hands high in complete surrender while tears profusely ran down my soaked cheeks. Suddenly, a divine silence overcame me, and I heard His voice speak from within me: IT IS FINISHED.
Just as Jesus’ final words on the cross, he was telling me it was finished at that very moment. I asked Him to take away my suffering, and He responded with— IT IS FINISHED. Yes, with His death on the cross, there died my old self. All of the guilts that I carried for years and the eternal sadness I felt, Jesus took them all away. After a few good hours of reconnecting myself to my Saviour, I instantly felt renewed. I couldn’t feel the guilt and pain anymore— Jesus already took them away.
The Lord refreshed my soul. I am renewed. I finally regained my joy in the Lord. And whenever I feel that sadness lurking in again and the longing for attention and affection from my siblings, relatives, and friends tries to creep in, there is one thing I remind myself of: THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD, I LACK NOTHING. The Lord sustains me abundantly with physical and financial favour; this I guarantee. But lately, did I only realize that I also lack nothing in love. God ever so loves me by sending His only son on the Cross to suffer for my sins, God ever so loves me that even though I have often stumbled and offended Him of my grave sins, He has forgiven me. God ever so loves me that in my darkest, messiest, and worst suffering, He was there, silently comforting me to sleep. God ever so loves me that in my joys, He rejoices with me. God ever so loves me that in every second and millisecond of my life, He is there to keep me, guide me, and see to it that I thrive and prosper. Seriously, every step of the way, even in my first steps as a young child, for which I could hardly remember, I knew in my heart that He was and is always there for me.
Indeed, I lack nothing, even in love— God’s love, I am overflowing. I am so filled with God’s love that whenever thoughts or feelings of not being loved enough by people around me can no longer hurt me. How can I not love my neighbour enough when God’s love for me overflows abundantly?
Praise and glory be to our Lord, Jesus Christ. WCB
