It’s funny. When I started this blog two months ago, I had no expectation that it would become so much about my own history with depression. I really didn’t know what it would be about. That was part of the fun, I suppose. But then this post happened, wherein I shared that the reason I hadn’t blogged in a while was because of “the voice” that was telling me to “Shut up, kid.” I opened up about my history with that voice, and I was absolutely floored by the response. So many people commented on the blog, or on my Facebook, or via email, to let me know that they deeply appreciated my words. I was touched, and I saw it as encouragement to keep writing about my struggles with that voice, and with my depression and anxiety in general.
So this blog has become mostly (apart from also serving as a repository for my sermons) a place to discuss my own history, in terms of depression. And through this, a lot of people have told me that they think I am brave for writing what I write, for sharing what I share, for being open and honest with these stories. That’s the word that so many people use: brave. But the funny thing is…while I do appreciate the kindness that’s in the words, writing these stories just doesn’t feel brave to me. There is bravery involved in making this blog, but that’s not where it is. To me, it doesn’t take bravery to share these stories. To me, it takes bravery just to share anything. The hardest thing I’ve done with this blog is make it in the first place. That was actually really hard. But now that I’m here, now that I pushed through that fear, it has continued to flow fairly easily. Thanks in great part to all the kind and affirming comments. Thank you!