My Beautiful Broken Brain

In the back matter of my brain

trees grow

with roots like hands holding

the wrinkly valleys I create.

 

A surge comes, electrifying branches,

but serotonin seeds don’t spread.

The tree takes them back as if

new growth will choke.

 

I long to be the tree planted

by still waters,

with leaves that do not wither,

yet beautiful with a little brokenness

so light may shine through.

 

 

For the past year I have felt like a child of light. The shadows wisp at my heels, but I do not fear that they will touch me. Incredible and miraculous healing has taken place in my body. Depression is just a memory.

Yesterday I talked to my counselor of 2 years. She showed me some statistics that put an exclamation point on my healing. At this time last year, my level of distress was at an 89. This year, in the still dark and bitter winter, my distress level is at a 5.

When you have felt the weight in your chest and the fog in your brain, you will always know it, but it will not always be with you. I’m so well acquainted with the feeling, I know exactly when it begins to strike. I also know that unless you have gone through it, you don’t understand. But there is one who has always understood and will never cease to comfort me: The Father of Light.

To me the battle is not yet won. I still take medication to keep my serotonin from being sucked back into my brain cells, leaving my body in distress. My brain is still broken, but in the brokenness, beauty has emerged like a phoenix from ash. It is a season for new trees to be planted.

Still my heart breaks for people still captive by the darkness. I hope to be a voice from the possible future, a testament that life doesn’t have to end when someone else’s has. I will sport my tattooed wrist, adorned with a simple semicolon, to start conversations and open a pathway for mental health awareness in the world and in the body of Christ. I can only hope that in all I do, Jesus will shine through.

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Some Sources for the Soul: