The Demon That Sits On My Shoulder

In my intro post yesterday, I talked about battling with my demons.  About how we ALL battle with our own different demons.  Sometimes I wonder if demons are real.  Not like, they are little red angry creatures with sharp teeth and pointy tails, but literally one of Satan's minions standing next to me whispering into my ear.  "You are a sinner. Everyone knows what you have done.  Just give up and stop trying to be a good person.  You know you really aren't."  Some days he is whispering, "Look at those love handles and jiggly arms. You can barely even button up your pants! You are disgusting.  How could anyone love you in that body."  And some days he isn't whispering.  Some days he is flat out yelling.  Yelling that there is no God.  Yelling that anyone who believes there really is a God is stupid and simply a coping mechanism to give us hope in this dismal world.  And sometimes, sometimes I believe him.

Last night as I was walking the puppy one last time before bed, I was looking up at the sky.  The moon was hazy, and with the Houston city lights I can't see many stars.  In Colorado there were so many stars that I could see the bands of the Milky Way Galaxy over my head.  It was a glorious sight, crystal clear and absolutely breathtaking.  But here, the sky almost looks empty.  As I stood there, wishing for more stars is when the yelling started.  "You really think in that big old empty black space there is a God who cares about you? Even if there was a God, don't you think he is busy with more important things? Like starving kids in Africa? Or suffering people who need him more?...don't you think he would rather talk to people who aren't such a rotten sinner as you?" And suddenly I found myself praying and asking God to make the thoughts go away.  And then I felt guilty for praying, because if I was praying to God, he was probably listening.  And if he was listening that meant I was distracting him.  And if I was distracting him, that means someone with a more important problem isn't getting the attention they deserve.

This is how the Devil works. Like a wave battering rocks, slowly wearing them down over time.  Warping our thoughts into things that aren't ours.

One of my biggest demons, and to those who know me it is no surprise, is the demon that sits on my shoulder.  Every day.  All day.  The demon's name is DEPRESSION.  I have suffered from it for as long as I can remember.  I think the devil yells longer and harder at people with depression, because he knows they are easier to break.  He knows they are vulnerable.  He knows he can get them listening, and he wants us to be miserable like he is.  Misery loves company, you know?  It is hard to not let him get me down.  Depression is one of those almost taboo subjects, people know it exists, but it is scary to them.  Nobody wants to be around a Debbie Downer (though the SNL skits about Debbie Downer are friggin' HILLLLARIOUS).  For a long time I didn't want people to know I had depression, and usually I am pretty good at covering it up.  It took a while to find the right medication, but I found one that works and it makes it so I can't hear the nasty little demon yelling at me so much.  It helps me to feel like ME.  Well, the ME I am supposed to be.  The ME that God created me to be.  The ME that plays with her kids and laughs and runs and puts on makeup and goes out on the town and spends hours giggling about silly things with her husband.  It is nice to feel like the demon on my shoulder is gone for a while. And then I think, maybe he is gone now? Maybe I don't need medication anymore? And I try it out. And EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. I eventually find that he is still there. He has been quietly sitting on my shoulder waiting patiently for me to think I am invincible. Persistent little booger, he is.

I had seen this a while back...probably passed along on facebook. But, I have been thinking about it a lot. Sometimes it is hard to know which voice is which.  Apparently it is pretty easy to figure out. *wink wink* .

 

So, it is up to each of us to decide for ourselves.  Which voice do we listen to?  The demon sitting on our shoulder, or the one who made us and loves us and knows even when a little sparrow loses a feather?  I don't know what other religions believe, but I believe that after I die, I will be resurrected. And after I am resurrected, my body will be restored to perfection.  That means, the neurotransmitters and chemicals in my gray matter won't be broken.  I won't have depression.  And, frankly, I am super excited for it.  But for now, all I can do is the best that I can.  When the devil starts to yell, I won't yell back.  I will get on my knees and ask God to yell a little louder for me.