“Mike, are you angry, upset? Please talk to me,” she said. She searched my face, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
“No, Ren. I’m fine. Really.”
She walked in front of me, forcing me to look at her. “You’re anything but fine. I can see it in your eyes. Have I done something?”
Finally looking at her, I shook my head vehemently. “No. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Is this about Grammy?” When I shook my head, she asked, “Then is it about what we talked about the other day? About what you confessed to me? Mike, if that’s what’s bothering you, I promise it’s not an issue for me at all. We agreed to take things slow, so we’re sleeping in separate rooms, but it’s not because of what you experienced all those years ago.”
My chest was tight, and I shifted my body away from her as heat raced up my neck. As if the depression wasn’t enough, my new wife also had to deal with the fact that she wouldn’t be my first. I needed to get into my room and away from her prying eyes. I was about to feign a headache when she spoke again.
“I’m not letting this go. Not until you open up and tell me what’s wrong. Can you please sit down with me for a few minutes?” She didn’t wait for an answer and pulled me by the hand with her until I was seated. I couldn’t look at her so I stared at my feet.
“Mike, please talk to me.”
I ran my hands over my face roughly. “You don’t know all of it.”
Concern flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t move away. “Then tell me. Let me be a part of what you’re facing.”
Taking her hands in mine, I looked at her intently, composing myself for several minutes before speaking. She waited patiently as I opened my mouth and closed it, trying to get the words out. Finally, with a head shake, I spoke.
“It’s just. I’ve always been known as the life of the party. Mike’s thefunfriend, the one always up for an adventure. He’s never sad, never in a bad mood. Ren, I’m the strong Christian the younger ones come to for advice at church.” My voice broke on the last sentence.
“But you can’t be happy all the time. Can’t be strong all the time, either. You’re human. You’re allowed to have a bad day.”
I closed my eyes tightly and ground out, “It’s more than just a bad day. It’s days, weeks. I’ve been battling this for months. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve probably felt this on and off for years. I just learned how to mask it, push it down, ignore it, using humor to deflect how I’m really feeling.”
She gently smoothed out the line between my eyebrows, forcing me to relax my face. I was sure I was grimacing. “Push what down, Mike?”
“The darkness. The depression,” I said roughly.
“Can you tell me about it?” she said, concern on her face as she held my hand again.
“It’s this feeling that comes over me like I can’t breathe. Like everything is closing in on me. I’ve looked it up, and anxiety is definitely a part of it, but this is much more.
“It’s like a dark cloud comes over me, and my thoughts are jumbled. I feel hopeless, lost, confused. I start thinking about losing Grammy or my parents with them so far away. Worried people will see how much I’m struggling. To see this side ofme. I can’t shake it anymore, and it’s getting worse.” I looked down at my feet. “My failures are amplified, and I start feeling worthless.”
“You know those thoughts aren’t from God, though, right? He’d never speak to His son like that. You’re far too valuable to Him.” Her voice struck a chord in me, and I looked into her wide eyes.
“He wouldn’t. I know that deep down, but once this depression infiltrates my mind, I have to be alone. Fight it on my own. It’s too embarrassing to talk to anyone about. What would they think of me, Ren, if they knew? What areyougoing to think of me now that you do?”
Her eyes softened. “Anyone who truly knows you and loves you would never judge you. Never expect you to be perfect. Only Jesus was able to do that while here on earth. You’re listening to a voice that brings destruction. Then once you believe it, you’re filled with shame and guilt, which pushes you away from God, believing He’s displeased with you. Mike, that’s not God. That’s not your Father who loves you deeply.”
More light dawned inside me at her words. She was right. Deep down, I knew these things, but I’d allowed the wrong voice to be louder.
“I’m justsotired of pretending that everything is all right,” I sobbed loudly as the dam broke. She slid across my lap, both legs on one side of me, and held me as I cried, cradling my head on her shoulder.
“Then don’t pretend anymore,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone. I’m here now.”
When I lifted my head to meet her gaze, I saw her pain mirrored in mine. Two lonely souls who had found one another, bound by God in this unique story He was weaving. I held her closer as we both cried, my violent shudders shaking us as I began to let go of the fears that had twisted inside me for toolong. I told her to trust me, and this was the last wall I needed to tear down.
All I wanted was to be free of my fears, free of this struggle to fix myself. I wanted her to be free as well, and I wondered what it would take for that to happen. After what felt like an eternity, the tears slowed, and I took a deep, stuttering breath as I lifted my head.
“Listen to me. When I worked on a project in Tuscany where the owners wanted to use a lot of wood elements in a particular room, I learned something,” she said softly as I looked at her.
Peering into her eyes, I was struck with the sincerity in them.
“Did you know where knots come from in wood?” she asked.
