Do Not Grow Weary…
BY : RACHEL PIMENTEL
Weary…a type of tired so deep in your soul it’s hard to imagine two minutes into the next part of the day. A season of life I am familiar with. If you know this feeling too, I hope reading my story reminds you that you are not alone.
My name is Rachel. I am from the mountains of East Tennessee and married to my husband of almost 6 years, Felipe. We have a beautiful daughter named Camila and a baby on the way. Sounds nice, right? At times, we can all look like we have it all together. I now know in a deeper way how deceitful looks can be. Marriages can be on the verge of falling apart, we can individually be a wreck, hopeless, depressed, and devastated…all while looking put together on the outside.
But how would you know?
Our story starts when Felipe and I met at a coffee shop. We had both walked through challenging seasons of refinement, so when we met, we knew it was right. We dated fast and married faster (in total 7 months)…that isn’t meant to be some type of warning. It’s a beautiful part of our story. I still feel confident that we trusted the Lord in our courting, and it all worked out as it was meant to.
Those first two years were so sweet and fun. However, as life brought disappointments and hardship, things began to shift. Aside from little details, the biggest battles were health scares with my daughter and a surprising job loss. My husband, who had begun rising in the ranks of career success, had his first big blow.
All throughout the beginnings of our marriage, he had underlying periods of depression and the ever-present shadow of anxiety, but with this experience something shifted deep within him. Over the next two years, we would face great difficulties in our relationship. It started with minor disagreements, disconnect, and business, but then I watched this man I married unravel into this stranger whom I couldn’t connect with. This once confident man now seethed with insecurity, hung onto obsessions, and disappeared into his new job trying desperately to prove his worth in this new opportunity.
In despair, we sought marriage counseling.
As we began unpacking our messy lives with the help of this professional counselor, she was able to see some things in Felipe that we had been blinded to. I was so preoccupied with our daughter’s health that I had missed the thousands of dollars compulsively spent on his hobbies. I missed how intense his mood swings had gotten and their effect on our family. I didn’t clearly see the shattered place we were in. She recommended a mental health screening, and Felipe agreed.
We found a psychiatrist, and it was clear after testing that he was on the scale for Bipolar disorder. What?! A stigmatized mental health disorder on top of everything else…it all felt like too much. Job loss, new job stress, constant medical appointments for our child, hard relationship, and now Bipolar. Geez. You think that would be enough to deal with, but shortly with this new revelation, there was a second job loss.
Felipe was struggling more than I could have imagined. His impulsive behaviors had now entered his workplace and under a review period, there was a decision made to let him go. I so clearly remember this moment of falling to the floor under the weight of the continually unfolding stresses. I literally cried out as I banged my hands to the floor in a tantrum… “what are we going to do!”
Weary. I was weary. Heavy, depressed, overwhelmed, and discontented.
I wished things would get better. They actually got much worse. The impulsive behaviors associated with Bipolar had led my husband into infidelity. His heart and mind were so twisted… so unrecognizable from the man that God had created him to be. It was too much. I no longer felt safe. He had to leave. So, we separated.
I felt this tear deep in my soul. I don’t think I had ever really reflected on the meaning of becoming one flesh in marriage until this point. It was the most wrenching pain I had ever experienced. Betrayal, confusion, and loss. My own flesh had betrayed me. Felipe had to be separate from me.
I had always considered myself a resilient person in the face of hardships, but not like this. This broke me. I have cried out to the Lord before asking for strength and comfort, but perhaps this was the first time I actually cried out to Him because I meant it with my entire existence… “Lord, I can not do this without you.”
I needed the Lord and family and friends. There were many days over the next months that I was physically peeled off the floor by my community. Historically I haven’t liked asking for help, but my emotional pain left me too weak to do anything on my own.
The following months were a sloppy mess of counseling. For the first time in my life, I had no opinions of my own. I desperately wanted someone to grab my hand and tell me what I should do. I asked questions of mentors, counselors, elders at church, friends, family, and strangers that wrote books on the subjects of infidelity and separation. Ultimately the decision on next steps had to be between me and God.
My previously forward, strong willed, and confident personality had always imagined I would never stay with someone who could hurt me so deeply. I remember being judgemental of women who would return to their unfaithful spouses. But in that season when I really began to think of my options, no path forward was a good one. Divorce would be devastating, prolonged separation would be excruciating, but returning to a relationship with this mentally ill stranger would be impossible. In order to move forward, I had to choose: bitterness about the ugly roads ahead or put my faith to the test and practice what I had been preaching…trust in Jesus.
Wiser men and women were walking with me, literally helping to keep panic attacks at bay by speaking words of truth over me. A mentor would answer my desperate calls and help me name God’s characteristics listed A-Z. It was a powerful grounding technique. I didn’t have the bandwidth to remember scripture, but singular descriptions of who God is I could do. Over time, my spirit aligned with those truths. As I had longer periods of clarity, I started seeking God’s wisdom in the scriptures.
I found stability in those truths, and I clung to the words of my Creator. I surrendered my hour by hour and kept His words in my heart. It felt like learning to walk again. I remembered the miracle of being his chosen child. Jesus had already changed so much of my life, but now He was asking for the rest of me. Not just the parts I chose to give Him but every last corner of my pride and self reliance.
I remembered that if the Lord had entered my dark heart before my salvation and saved me from death, he could do it for Felipe too. My God is more powerful than depression, looming anxiety, a broken marriage, and mental illness. I wrote a letter to God petitioning Him for the relationship I desired. It was pages at length of what I desired to see in my husband. A faithful companion, provider, engaged father, compassionate friend, and details of what I had mourned over the last two years of living through the stages of untreated Bipolar disorder.
Walking through pain is never pretty. There were many mis-steps in my faith, but I knew and still know, there is power in the grace and love of Jesus. Felipe eventually came home because we were out of money. He submitted to the eldership of our church and committed to trust-building rhythms. It was a long and dry 8 months of medication roulette, counseling, and mostly behaving like roommates.
On the long road to stability, I searched the pages of the Bible for hope in the waiting and strength to stay faithful to my trust in Jesus. One day in March, I realized I saw a familiar person in our home. The man who had disappeared under the fog of Bipolar was resurfacing. We had finally found a medication that brought the good man I married back to us. It was difficult getting to know each other again, especially through the heap of hurt and loss we had swept aside to deal with on a clearer day. In the dry months, we worked muscles of commitment and perseverance. Slowly, day by day, we trusted the power of the Holy spirit to carry us when the future was unsure and hope seemed fleeting. If you can find hope and trust in those days, it gets easier when the fog lifts.
The Lord worked quickly helping my heart heal and forgive. We found a way back to one another, more importantly with Christ at the head of our marriage. I revisit those pages of petition to God for the husband I desired. Every single prayer has been answered. Along with a long list of good gifts I didn’t even know to ask for. My God is faithful to me. He held me up when I was weak and defeated. He gave me the strength to endure the hardest season of my life. He ministered to my heart through the firm foundation of truth found in the Bible. He gave me encouragement through community in His church. He answered my prayers.
There are many nuances to our stories. Many miraculous details to behold. If my story speaks to you and you need encouragement, I want to be a voice of light in your dark season. Not all of our outcomes are the same, but God does not change. I know even if my marriage had dissolved into destruction, He is on the throne of my life, and He still would have given me a testimony of joy and peace. Thankfully the saving grace of our good Father has saved our marriage and continued to grow our little family. Thankfully in His kingdom this side of eternity, we have a glorious and miraculous testimony to share about how, despite the odds, our God is bigger than our circumstances.
I’ll leave you with this: “and let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” Galatians 6:9.
Friend, if you are waiting for deliverance or restoration, hold fast to the good news of the saving story of Jesus. If you are weary, it is the perfect opportunity to surrender your tired heart to the one who calls you child. In His arms, you are safe.
