It’s Not You, It’s Not Them.

Exactly two years ago, I was getting ready to celebrate my 30th birthday in the happiest place on Earth: Disney World.

Everything was appointed for a great week. Great weather (which, honestly, is already a win considering it’s Florida), great company, great itinerary.

But first, let’s talk about the year prior.

Around this time, I had been married for a little over a year, and that year was nothing but challenging. In fact, someone once asked us to describe our first year of marriage in one word, and we unanimously said, “HARD.”

Not because of Nate.
Not because we didn’t love each other.
Not because we “didn’t do the work” prior to marriage (whatever that even means).

But because I started going through the hardest season of anxiety and depression of my life. And as if that wasn’t hard enough, the job I had at the time was supposed to help people who felt the way I felt. YIKES.

Man, following God and doing His will when you feel like absolute crap will test your conviction like nothing else. That’s for sure.

On the surface, we were surrounded by people, God’s people. We worked at a church. Yet we felt lonelier and more unequipped than ever. It felt like an ambush on our marriage, our lives, and the ministry inside of us.

That year was packed with so many cool adventures that felt robbed and sabotaged by what I was going through.

During that year, Nate visited Costa Rica for the first time. It was supposed to be the best trip ever. I was seeing my best friends, my chosen family, in one of the most beautiful places in tiquicia, Guanacaste.

But it was a nightmare.

Anxiety attacks. Sadness. I felt completely overtaken.

I remember we were staying with friends, and it was so hard to hide. And honestly, they aren’t dumb, they knew something was up. Sorry, Mich and Alex! My sweet friend Keka did everything she could to turn that trip into something beautiful, and yet I felt nothing but emptiness and apathy.

Nate did the best he could. He asked questions to help me figure out the root of it, but I just didn’t know. He would ask, “What do you feel?” and I didn’t have the words to explain it. I was supposed to be happy. I wanted to be happy. There was no logical reason not to be.

The hardest part was the roles I carried at the time. (If you haven’t read the second blog, go back and read it.) I talk there about how dangerous it is to let your titles and labels define you, and that’s exactly what was happening to me. I felt like people expected this God-given dynamite inside of me. This bubbly, enthusiastic version of Michelle.

That year, my brain and body felt like a roller coaster. Extreme emotional peaks, either intense happiness or deep, heavy sadness and exhaustion. The kind that makes you not want to get out of bed.

My husband. My God, this man. He must’ve earned a castle in heaven that year. He was patient and kind. He never gave up on the version of Michelle he knew I was.

We tried almost everything. And I know people often say they’ve tried “everything” when that’s not really true, but believe me, we really did.

“It’s spiritual warfare.”
“This is an attack.”
“This is just how the first year of marriage is.”
“Marriage is hard… welcome to reality.”

So they said.

We knew it wasn’t that. We didn’t want to buy into the idea that this is how everyone’s first year of marriage goes. There was something else. We just couldn’t put our finger on it, at least not before Disney.

We fasted. We prayed. Oh boy, did we pray. We had worship nights at home. Nate anointed me. And as religious as it may sound to some, we repented. I was at a point where I didn’t know if this was something we had caused ourselves. We kept seeking God, but we didn’t feel any clarity, no direction, no sense of responsibility tied to it.

We were exhausted, worried, and confused. This was bleeding into everything: work, friendships, family.

Then my 30th birthday came.

Maybe we need a vacation.
Maybe it’s stress.
We’ve been traveling every month for work, we haven’t had time to chill.

And sure, that probably contributed. But it wasn’t the root.

We were at Disney for an entire freaking week. Man, that week felt long. Everything I had gone through the year prior was at its peak. And the hardest part? We were with friends. Not because of them, but because I felt the responsibility to hold it together.

But when you’re carrying more than you can, no matter how hard you try, it shows. It was evident I wasn’t the Michelle everyone knew.

There were many moments during that trip when I would cry in the shower. My energy felt crushed, so bad that in the middle of the day I’d go back to the hotel just to shower, hoping it would wake me up. Some may say, “Well, of course you were tired, you were at Disney.” But if you knew me, you’d know there’s nothing that energizes me more than being outside, with friends, in a place I love.

During that week, we attended a church conference in Miami. It felt like ointment to my soul. Every word they preached hit deep. And still, I had questions:

“God, I’ve surrendered.”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
“Did I disobey you?”
“Lord, help me.”

At the end of the conference, they prayed for married couples doing ministry together. It felt holy, like sitting on the beach with a gentle breeze washing over you.

Breakthrough must come.

A week later, some friends invited us for coffee. If you know ministry folks, you know they can be a bit political (sorry, friends, it’s true). 

They started with, “So… how’s everything?” “Anything new?” “Wow, already one year of marriage, huh?”

They had seen me. They were close enough that week to know this wasn’t the Michelle they knew.

I finally asked, “Is there something specific you want to ask?”

They looked at each other.

We talked, during and after the trip. They said, “We felt something was going on because you felt different. And we’re not going anywhere. We just want to understand and see how to help.”

I burst into tears.

I tried to explain what the last year had been like. I listed everything we had tried. They didn’t judge me. They didn’t make it about themselves. They leaned in, genuinely wanting to help.

After about 30 seconds of silence, one of them said, “I’m about to get into your business, and I feel hesitant to ask… are you on birth control? Like, are you taking pills?”

Huh?

Girl, I just poured my heart out and that’s your question?

She said, “I don’t know how to explain it… but as you were talking, that’s all I could think about. Maybe have a conversation with Nate and see if you can stop it for a month and see if anything changes.”

We did.

And wow.

Isn’t it ridiculous how something so small can be so harmful? In less than 15 days, my energy levels started returning to normal. Within a month, hormone testing showed my hormones were completely off, most likely due to birth control.

It took a few months to fully work through it, but I truly felt like I came back to life.

Friend, what if what you’re going through is linked to an external factor? Something not even on your radar? What if it’s not you? What if it’s not them either?

If I could go back, I wish I had been kinder to myself. I was so hard on that version of Michelle. As a minister, I told myself I needed to just “get over it.” I prayed every scripture you can think of. And listen, I’m not saying the Bible isn’t effective. I’m saying sometimes we jump straight to the spiritual and ignore the practical. There’s a connection between both.

You know what I regret the most? Not inviting people into our struggle sooner. I wish that when people asked how we were doing, we hadn’t given the generic response: “We’re good. All is fine.” Pfft. That doesn’t help.

Sometimes it’s not that we don’t have the right people or tools around us, it’s that we don’t use them. God presents Himself through His creation.

This weekend, as I prepare to celebrate my 32nd birthday in Guanacaste, Costa Rica, with the love of my life, my best friend (aka my husband), and our little one, Elijah, I feel incredibly grateful to God. Grateful and relieved to be on the other side of it, able to tell a different story.

But be assured of this: what you see on Instagram is the after. Not the messy process. Not the intimate conversations filled with tears and questions. And you know what? It was all worth it.

I invite you to reflect on your own life and the lives of those around you. Sometimes we are blessed. Sometimes we are the blessing. And sometimes, we get both at once.

Which one are you right now?
Where does the Lord want to bring restoration?
Who do you need to invite into the messy parts of your life?
Who does He want to use you for?

It gets better.
Keep going.