I really didn’t want to write about being in the mental hospital. Not because I’m ashamed of it. Like I said, I’m not — even a little bit. Honestly, I kind of enjoy watching the look on people’s faces when I say, “Yeah, I checked myself into the nervous hospital for three days once.” They don’t know if I’m serious, and when they realize I am, they desperately search for the correct response (if there is one!).
Oh how nice! How was your stay? Did you make any new friends? How was the food?
I suppose the best thing to say is, I’m sorry. I hope it helped your situation. I always laugh and say, don’t worry. I’m fine now.
The reason I didn’t want to share it was because I thought it was too much information. Those of you who know me are thinking, “Since when does Dee think she’s giving too much information?!?!” My daddy used to say God made most people with a filter somewhere between their brains and their mouths, and He must have left mine out. Although I may share too much about myself at times, I do try hard not to say things that might offend or hurt people. And I didn’t want to cause any further harm to anyone who had been in a similar situation, or loved someone who had.
But . . . I kept feeling this nudging in my heart telling me to write it. After I was finished, I knew someone, maybe several people, would write me and say they had been there in some form or fashion, and they would say they needed to hear that there was no reason to be ashamed. And mostly that they needed to know that God had not abandoned them in their crisis.
So I wrote it.
And I waited.
In no time, people began to write me. Some folks I knew, some I didn’t know. They said exactly what I thought they would say — that it helped them feel like God had not left them. I suppose they don’t know many people who would so openly share what most might be embarrassed about, and it made them feel less alone, and more like God loves them.
That, my friends, is the entire reason why I’m writing this blog.
Folks, don’t be ashamed of the path it took to get you out of the valley. You don’t have to be proud of your choices. We all have done things we wish we hadn’t. You don’t have to tell every detail of those things. I do believe some things are best left unsaid. Especially if it hurts someone else to tell it. But telling your story takes away it’s power to hurt you later, and it might help someone to hear your journey.
This is what God says He does for us in 2 Corinthians 1:4,
” . . . (God) comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves received from God.”
What good can come from hard times if they don’t help someone when they’re going through it as well? How will people know they’re not alone if no one tells them they’re been there too? And they lived to tell it? In my hardest times, it helped tremendously to hear someone’s testimony of survival and God’s faithfulness.
From Day One, I’ve known what the purpose of this blog was to be. It was to encourage people, to tell my story. Just mine. Not anyone else’s. (Aren’t you glad if I know something about you that you don’t have to worry I might hang it out here for the world to read?!) This website is to be a place where you go to be lifted up, not beat up or beat down. You won’t get the latest news or political opinions. You’ll just get me, and a kind word to help you find strength for the journey.
You have a story, too, my friend. It’s your super power! You can use it for good or for evil. The choice is yours. I hope you choose to use it for good, to tell it when it will help someone else in their hour of need, to encourage someone that you made it, and they can too. Your story has the power to heal — both your broken heart and the hearts of other hurting people as well. Watch and wait for the opportunity to share. There is a whole world of broken people out there, just waiting for a kind word. Be a part of the solution. The answer is love — it always has been and it always will be.