There is something to be said for a warm blanket right out of the dryer … or the warmer as it comes to me today. It’s 8:30 AM, my port has been accessed, and I am waiting for the nurse to come over and start the Herceptin. Next week is chemo, and I am not looking forward to it. Yesterday, however, was my first day back to work. It was a long day, but I made it through. Physically, it was not as tiring as I worried it would be, and emotionally it was actually uplifting. It made me realize how much I thrive on social interraction even though my inclination over the last 4 weeks has been to close myself off from others. I was too much in my head; I listened to and believed the lies that the enemy was whispering in my ear.
Lie #1 – that I just needed to be alone, that it would be better if I withdraw from others because they would just drain me of what little energy I had. Lie #2 – that I was too tired to do anything with meaning and that all I could really do was lay around and do things that didn’t require me to use my mind. Lie #3 – that things were getting back to ‘normal’ and no one cared anymore about what was going on.
The truth is that the more I withdrew and sut myself off from others, the more I became emotionally unstable, and the more likely I was to explode on my family.
It’s hard not to withdraw when you feel like no one around you knows what you are going through. It’s easy to believe the lie that their lack of understanding equates to a lack of caring. When you believe that, it’s even easier to cut yourself off from those who do care about you and genuinely want to help you and love on you in any way they can … in any way that you will LET them … but you have to let them. If you believe the lie that no one understands, that no one cares, it is easy to become cynical and jaded. It is easy to feel self-righteous in your anger and disdain for those around you and to fool yourself into believing that you are alone.
You are not alone. I am not alone. Sometimes that is hard to remember; it is hard to feel the presence of God, especially when I’m allowing myself to be deceived. I do not know why, but it seems to be so much easier to give in to the anger by believing the lie than to hold on to the truth that no matter where I am or what I am going through, God is with me. When I remember and believe that truth, it gives me strength; it gives me hope. My God is my strength and my hope. I pray that He would be yours as well.