The Hard Things

Steve is snoring beside me. The boys are all out. 

I'm wide awake. Sleep evades me. 

It's rare this happens, usually I am one of the first ones asleep, but when I get exposed to too many toxins, sleep is off the menu.

I've been sick all day. This past week hit me hard. If you missed it, you can read about it here.

There's a lot on my mind. It's been weighing on me heavily. 

Part of it is that I have to finally be still and think. Maybe part of it is that I'm finally getting some distance to process some things, although I doubt it, as sick as I feel this week.

I got an offer to be part of a group to, for now, share and encourage others with this illness.

I haven't decided. The people who offered have been extraordinarily kind to me.

But how do you encourage others with this illness?

"Congratulations. You'll lose everything. Respect. Possibly your family. No one will believe you. You will have to learn who to trust. It's a short list. Don't think you can share much about this illness- you can't. You'll be lonely. And tired."

No, no, from the world's perspective, there just isn't a lot of hope. There is, however, a tremendous amount of hurt. You'll need a strength that you didn't think was humanly possible.

And maybe that's the thing.

It isn't humanly possible.

I look back and I just can't figure out how I'm still alive. By all human standards it doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense physically, but, more than that, it doesn't make sense emotionally and spiritually. 

"I don't understand. How are you guys ok?"
A licensed therapist asked us this when we went in for my last ketamine appointment to give me a boost before we left Tennessee.


It's not a cop out. I'm not trying to avoid your uncomfortable question. It just legitimately is the only answer. Nothing else makes sense.

"Moldies go through a lot in general but you've been through a lot even for a moldie." 

A mold illness podcaster said that to me. 

And I'm sitting here at 12:43 am. I'm weak and sick from the difficult past week. I feel pain and distrust from past hurts creeping up. I feel the seriousness of this illness. The weight of it and what's likely going to be required for me to survive long term. 

And the only thing I can think to do is thank the Lord. Hold on now lest you think this is anything naturally in me. It can't be. It's quite impossible. 

I thank Him for maturing me. I thank Him for teaching me to walk by faith- it truly is the evidence of things not seen. I thank Him for taking away any respect or pride so that the only thing that I truly can boast in is Him. I thank Him for demolishing relationships so that I have to trust in Him all the more. I thank Him for allowing me to taste death -physically and emotionally- because it keeps my eyes on Him.

And I do thank Him for healing me. Because, despite how hard this past week is, we have seen more hope and progress in the past 7 months than the past 5 years. 

Is this encouraging?
I don't know. It isn't the quick feel good story that will go viral. It's painful. Often soul crushing.

But God.

In Christ,


Prone to wander,
Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Take my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for thy courts above

Share your thoughts :