Waiting

Living with bipolar disorder can feel like walking on a balance beam. (And, bipolar or not, I’ve never been a very good gymnast.)

Today, I feel like I’m starting to wobble to one side.

Depression can be chemical. Depression can be situational. Depression can be both. But for me? Today? I think it has to do with the situation more than anything.

I’m in the midst of transition, and transition always disrupts my balance. What do I do now that grad school is ending? (Why did I go for the unpractical degree?) How am I going to get a job? (Why would anyone want to hire me?) What do I even want to do? (That’s the real question.)

Last night, I was whining to my husband, Rob, about my woes.

“Why doesn’t anyone like me? Why won’t anyone hire me?”

“What’s next for me? I don’t know what to do!”

Rob did what a good husband is supposed to do: he let me cry for a while and then gave me a pep talk.

“Of course people like you.”

“You will be hired. Eventually.”

Eventually. I hate that word. Eventually means I have to wait. Eventually means I have to be patient.

But what to do in the meantime, during the waiting?

Frankly, I just feel like lying in bed in the dark, giving in to the depressive waves that threaten to wash over me.

I know that God calls us to “wait” on Him. He asks us to trust Him during the times of “not knowing.” I’m just not sure what that looks like right now…though I do know it doesn’t look like me huddling in my sheets at 3 PM.

So, I’m wobbling. I’m trying to keep my balance as best I can, and I guess that’s all I can ask of myself right now. My husband is right: doors will open. Eventually. In the meantime, I’ve got to wait. And in the midst of that meantime, I’m going to learn what waiting actually looks like.

 

 

 

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