Things Get Ugly Before They Get Better

Do you find it interesting that things get ugly before they can get better? In all honesty, it's no fun at all. But why doesn't my human brain realize that the ugliness sometimes means that the light is around the corner? Even though I know this to be true, my simple human mind just cannot grasp it. If Pavlov could train dogs so that they knew what to expect around the corner, why can't I? Especially when I've been through it before time and time again?

Ever wake up in the morning with a black eye? Okay, let me preface this... I must have been dreaming or maybe even having a nightmare because for some strange reason early Tuesday morning, I guess I went to turn over or something and I just remember whipping around toward Darrell and all of a sudden.. SMACK... I slammed my face into the top of his head. That's what he gets for cuddling too early in the morning, right? ha ha ha But seriously... it woke him up and he said it hurt, but not like it hurt my left eye. Wanna see?

No pain, really- just a few stares from people I met for the first time at work (a parent and some staff from a new community preschool I visited).

Today it hurts a lot more. Although Libby and Drew were so sweet, saying, "I think it looks like pretty makeup," I wasn't convinced. I have a headache and it feels really swollen- basically it feels like I got punched in the eye! I don't think I can put concealer on it today because just barely touching it hurts.

But we know that with bruising, it looks really ugly as it's healing. Yesterday it was blue, today it's purple, and I expect tomorrow to be yellow or green. This is the sign that it is getting better.

Which brings me to my next point... Dr. Katie has once again decided to cease yet another new medication prescribed to me for anxiety and depression. I have had great success with one in particular, but the doctor felt I needed an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) to make the total package of happiness. I tried one, gained 35 lbs and had a ferocious craving of sugar that could never be satisfied. I tapered it off independently, leading to serious side effects, or SSRI withdrawal. This felt like having the worst hangover EVER, for weeks and weeks (while still expecting to work with preschoolers, raise my own, and function in society). NICE. My doctor was unaware that I had received my MD in the 2 or so months since we had seen one another. Needless to say, I told him that especially since I had gone through this withdrawal, I was never putting that in my body again. But, my mood took a major nose dive. MAJOR.NOSE.DIVE.

So, much to my chagrin, I agreed to try another SSRI. It's been 2 months and I have been so, so tired. I mean.. TIRED. Not the tired that comes from having newborn twins, but the tired of "I can't even listen to what you are saying because I am asleep with my eyes open" kind of tired. The "I am no help to my husband at all because I am too tired to help with cooking, housework, bathing children, bringing them to school, or being awake past 7:00 PM" tired.  The "I cannot believe I am still tired when I am sleeping AT LEAST 12 hours nightly" kind of tired. I couldn't get out of bed in the mornings or make it to my bed fast enough (usually falling asleep at the dinner table or on the sofa shortly after) kind of tired. So, I tried to wean off as best I could and once again am having the nice hangover to go with it. This time it's not as terrible, but still no fun.

What's keeping me going is knowing that things get UGLY with a capital U before they get better. Isn't that true for everyone? It is for me. But it's the time of being in the UGLY that makes my brain forget. Then I get stuck in the UGLY for more than necessary. Why is that? Are we simply wired that way as women, as mothers, or as humans?

Why is it that I want to stay in the UGLY sometimes? Why can't I accept a compliment someone gives me, especially about my appearance? Just yesterday, even with my eye the way it was (which really wasn't all that noticeable), someone I see every Tuesday at a preschool I go to asked me if I was losing weight. Immediately, as if a script programmed into my brain- I went into diarrhea of the mouth discounting this... "Oh, it must be this sweater or pants or something else because there's no way I could have lost any weight since I can't ever seem to no matter how hard I try. You are too sweet saying something like that..." as I laughed it off. Ok, WHAT?? Instead of just saying, "Maybe I have," or "Thank you," I immediately turn into that little unworthy girl who enjoys self-destruction and succumbs to the resistance around her. Deep down, I'm begging for others to accept me and love me and notice me (in a good way, that is), but when I get that gift, I slam it to the ground and stomp on it. It's like I punch it in the eye or something (he he). But why?

 ⁷ But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7 (NIV1984)

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Thank God for Fleas

Today in church, the message was about being grateful for what we have in our lives. It gave me a lot of perspective as excerpts from a book by Corrie Ten Boom, a survivor of the German concentration camps of World War II, were read. I had not heard of Corrie or her sister, Betsie, before today and am now compelled to buy Corrie's book with her personal writings documenting her experiences with her sister.

Here's a review of what I heard today, from another author, Joyce Swann:

Thank God for Fleas

As Thanksgiving approaches many of us are compiling our personal list of things for which we are thankful. I, too, am compiling my list, and in doing so I am putting at the very top, “Thank you, God, for fleas.”

I learned about the importance of fleas from Corrie Ten Boom, the Dutch Christian woman who, along with her other family members, hid Jews from the Nazis when Holland was under occupation. Corrie and her sister Betsie were middle-aged spinsters when they were arrested by the Germans and eventually sent to the concentration camp at Ravensbruck. Because Ravensbruck was among the worst of the camps, from the time they were first arrested Corrie had prayed diligently that they would not be sent there.Yet, Ravensbruck turned out to be the final destination for these two remarkable women.

The sisters were assigned to Barracks 28, a long gray building with numerous broken windows covered by rags and communal beds consisting of platforms stacked three high covered with filthy, stinking straw.On that first day when Corrie and Betsie were assigned their places on a middle platform, they discovered that the straw was infested with fleas—biting, stinging vermin. It seemed to Corrie that fleas were the one thing that would make their incarceration at Ravensbruck even more torturous.

When Corrie began to complain about their circumstances, Betsie reminded her that the Bible says we are to give thanks in everything, and she began to thank God aloud that there had been no inspection when the women entered the barracks, and they had been able to bring in their Bible. Then she thanked God for the crowding because that meant more women would hear the gospel and be saved. Finally, Betsie thanked God for the fleas! As far as Corrie was concerned, that was the last straw. Corrie refused to join Betsie in thanking God for the fleas until Betsie reminded her that fleas were part of the place where God had put them. Grudgingly, Corrie took Betsie’s hand and joined her in thanking God for the fleas, although she was certain that this time Betsie was wrong.

The two sisters immediately began a nightly meeting of prayer and Bible study where everyone was welcome to participate. Roman Catholics, Lutherans, and Eastern Orthodox women joined in the prayers and signing, and others listened. The sisters’ Bible was written in Dutch, but they translated their reading into German so that more of the women would understand. Those women, in turn, passed the words of scripture along the aisles translating them into French, Polish, Russian, and Czech.

At first, the sisters were very fearful when they called their meetings. In their previous barracks they had been accustomed to having the guards exercise rigid surveillance with half a dozen guards always present. In Barracks 28, however, there was very little supervision. At first the sisters were puzzled by this lack of supervision, but they later learned that the guards refused to enter the barracks because of the fleas. God had provided the fleas to keep the guards away from the nightly Bible study and worship where many women would come to know Christ.

In these difficult times many of us are fighting battles that seem to involve an inordinate number of fleas. We have experienced loss of income, dwindling home values, and failing businesses. It is almost impossible not to be angry and discouraged when we see everything we have worked so hard to achieve snatched away by circumstances beyond our control. Yet, the Bible tells us that not only are we not to be resentful, we are to actually give thanks for everything that comes into our lives.

If you feel that this Thanksgiving you have little to be thankful for, don’t concentrate on what is missing in your life. Thank God for the fleas, and trust that He is using them—every single annoying one of them—to bring about something beautiful. Trust that one day you will look back and understand how He used the fleas to bring about His perfect plan in your life.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 No matter what happens, always be thankful, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.  

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