My Dark Place

I have a dark place inside my heart. It’s not a place of evil or a place that seeks to harm anyone. It’s a place of loneliness and isolation. A place of anxiety. A place of being hidden in plain sight.

For the past few days, my dark place has been chasing me. It seeks to engulf me and keep me all to itself. God knows about my dark place. He knows how it pricks at my heart. He is right there on the other side of the door. I know that now. I depend on that now more than I ever did. God makes sure I don’t let myself get swallowed up by the dark place.

I have had a longstanding relationship with my dark place. It’s not a new suitor. We are quite intimately acquainted. For many years, my dark place was like my invisible friend. We were so close that we used to spend days, nights, weeks, months, and even years together. My dark place was like a side chick that wouldn’t let go.

A few years ago, I decided to break up with my dark place. I put it out and told it never to come back again. I used the medication of therapy, prayer, and determination. Eventually, its return seemed to lessen. I almost thought it was gone forever. But recently, it came busting through the door like it belonged there—refusing to let the relationship end.

So today, I have to confront the dark place. I have to let it know who is in charge. I have to give it its walking papers and remind it that it is not wanted or needed here.

The sad part about my dark place is that many of the people closest to me can’t see me slipping into it. Maybe I don’t allow them to, but a part of me still feels like they should know when it’s nearby. I try to be on the lookout for the dark places in others so I can help pull them out. But I wear my disguise well. Maybe that’s the problem.

I’ve been thinking about how I got back to my dark place again. I’ve worked so hard to put space between me and it. Yet it always seems to be lurking behind some concern of my heart. Maybe it’s because ever since I was a child, I’ve felt like a visitor on this planet—an alien who didn’t truly belong. I felt like no one truly understood me, and no one except my mom ever would.

That’s why my mom and I were so close. She was the one person who truly saw all of me. It made it even more unbearable when she passed away, because my fear was that once she left, I would be alone in this world. People who know me may find that hard to believe. I appear to be the social butterfly. I appear to have it all together. I have friends and family and love around me. I am vocal and speak my truth loudly. I love loud, I play loud. I shout from rooftops that I am here.

Yet inside—deep inside Valerie—I feel alone in crowds. I feel misunderstood and isolated. I keep a distance between myself and most of the world. I give people a piece of me, yet very few ever get to know or see all of me.

I’m not sure why I keep pieces of myself from people. Maybe it’s because I don’t trust everyone with my vulnerable places. Maybe it’s because I fear being hurt or taken for granted. Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to give that much of myself. Whatever the reason, the one thing that always seems able to find me and reach me… is my dark place.

God and I have worked hard to keep the dark place at a distance, but it is not completely gone.

This time, the dark place brought anxiety with it.

I was sitting in my office paying bills when I realized how depleted my account had become. I’ve given so much money away helping other people that I didn’t realize how much it had impacted my own finances. I’ve even been living off my credit cards for the last few months. I had finally paid them down, then had to rely on them again—and they crept right back up.

As I sat there, the thought came to mind: What if I lose my job? How will I pay my bills? There is no one I can depend on to help me. I am the helper for everyone in my life. They certainly can’t help me. I give sacrificially. I take from what I have to help. No one is going to do that for me.

Yet that is not the only reason that the dark place found an entry point. The fact is that I have felt so much lately. I have felt the sadness of this world. I have felt the despair and pain that is seeking to attack our basic human instincts. In this current space, I have felt powerless. I feel sad. I fight to find hope. I fight to reconcile my faith with the present realities.

All my feeling came rushing down on me at once. Then my chest got tight. I tried to breathe deeply. I began rocking back and forth. Tears filled my eyes. The dark place was right up on me. I cried out for God to help me.

Then God gave me my answer: Call your Poopie. She is your kindred spirit. She will help you through this.

I called my Poopie. And God was so right. We talked, we cried, we reflected, we reminisced—and we ended up laughing together.

God is so amazing and gentle with me. This recent visit from my dark place is yet another lesson for my good. I don’t have to fear my dark place. I don’t have to hide it. Maybe it will always be a small part of me. Maybe it’s the warning signal that lets me know when my emotional gas tank is low. Maybe it’s my reminder to open up and tell on it. Today, it was the indicator to replenish with my Poopie.

No matter why it showed up again, I know that God is there too. God is there to make sure that my dark place doesn’t swallow me up. God is always there with a ram in the bush. He is always there to show me He understands. God is always on the other side.

So I’m not afraid of the big bad dark place. Because God and I have actually shrunk it down to a pup. Most importantly, no matter where I am or what dark place tries to overtake me, I am never without God’s protection—because the brightness of His light can overshadow any and all darkness.

Psalm 18:6In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From His temple He heard my voice; my cry came before Him, into His ears.

Psalm 18:11–12He made darkness His covering, His canopy around Him—the dark rain clouds of the sky. Out of the brightness of His presence clouds advanced, with hailstones and bolts of lightning.