Redeeming the Wretch

Welcome to Redeeming the Wretch, my new blog. I am so thankful and excited that you stopped by to check it out.

I want to take a moment to address the bright pink, tattooed, sequined, loudly singing elephant in the room…why another blog? Does the world wide interweb really need ANOTHER blog? No. No, it does not. That’s just the truth, right there. So, then why?

A few months ago, as I stood at the bottom of my stairs dreading the ascent, I realized I was in trouble.

I hadn’t showered in four and a half days. I smelled. The ever-increasing levels of oils matting down my locks could no longer be sopped up by baking soda, hidden by headbands or concealed by a hat. The hair on my legs and underarms had reached Amazonian (or European) lengths. My children said that I looked fine, but I knew better.

I had determined that I must shower that day. I could not put it off any longer. For the sake of my husband. For the sake of my children. For the sake of my neighborhood. Hell, for the sake of the greater Austin area, I could not put it off any longer.

There was one ginormous, aching problem; me.

Removing my clothes, choosing a towel, turning the clear, circular knobs of the tub, dangling my fingers in the rush of water to test the temperature, lifting the lever to release the blazing streams from the shower head, and stepping into the steaming flow seemed an utter impossibility to me at that moment. There was nothing physically wrong with me. I could climb up the stairs. I could turn the knobs. I could remove my clothes and step in, most likely without falling even.

And yet, I couldn’t.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up the carpeted path leading to my bathroom for what seemed like an eternity. I willed my legs to move; they refused to cooperate. As if I were attempting to ascend Everest and shower there. Darkness sat heavily upon my shoulders, stealing my breath, robbing me of my will to live and be and do, even the ability to walk up the stairs to take a shower.

This has been happening far too often lately, showering only two, maybe three, times per week. It is not necessarily my personal hygiene that bothers me, nor what people might think (although I did feel quite uneasy walking into a trendy downtown Austin restaurant after four days of non-showering had created what I only can imagine to be an odiferous aura.) It is WHY I have been showering only two, maybe three, times per week that bothers me. I am depressed. Sullen. Deep sadness sits stale in my chest like day old cigarettes in a cheap motel.

So, why a blog?

I am an essay writer, I love being able to see the Silver Lining, the Meaning Behind, the Reason For by the end of page four. And, right now I can’t see past the fog. I can’t hear any music beyond. I can’t see the horizon in the distance, a clearer picture. And I know I’m not alone in this. When I finally made it up to the shower that day, managed to step in, and the cleansing drops beat upon my face, I had a knowing sense that there were thousands of individuals, at that very moment, feeling the same way I was.

Depression is a very lonely struggle. It is a struggle that people do not necessarily want to enter into with you, especially if that is not their brand of struggle. People want to be happy, and being around someone with depression threatens that. In the shower that day, I knew that I no longer wanted to “feel” alone in my struggle. I also knew that I did not want a single soul out there to “feel” alone in their struggle either.

Will this blog be entirely about depression? No. That would be too depressing. It will be a place for true authenticity.

“Authenticity” is a word that has been enjoying the spotlight for a few years now. We hear this word thrown around in “hip” churches, self-help books, blogs and articles. However, I have rarely found a place that truly values authenticity when your struggle gets ugly or it lasts too long. Well folks, that is what I hope to create, space for the “ugly struggles” in our lives. Sounds sexy, doesn’t it?

The purpose of this blog is to create a safe place to struggle, celebrate, and share life together; the good, the bad, the ugly, even the “too long struggle”.  I want to grapple with darkness and light, life and death, goodness and evil, joy and pain, and grapple with them together with you. I want a space to struggle together and to be okay with whatever that struggle might look like.

My prayer is that it will also be a place to share joys, occasional recipes, maybe a poem or two, and bits of encouragement with a whole hell-of-a-lotta realness.

I hope you will lock arms with me in this journey, and let’s enjoy the adventure (even if when feels like showering on Everest!)

– Heidi Seaborn