anobody

I have a inner Pharoah.

A Pharoah who wants me to slave away for his glory.

A Pharaoh who craves only for more and more. No amount of money is enough for him. Who screams when the number on the bank account is reduced.

A Pharaoh who keeps comparing himself with all the Pharaohs in the world. Who covets their glories and achievements, and would not settle for being any less.

In my sabbatical journey (115+ days), I have encountered depression. Decompressing from eight years of physics, to enter into nothingness, has been a little hard. From doing so much to doing nothing. Imagining my blood splattered on the wall from a bullet to my head. Drawing it, externalising it on paper, knowing that I will never have the guts to actually do it (plus, those kind of guns are illegal in my country).

One thing is pertinent. There was a hard, critical voice within and without. Calling me lazy. Calling me a leech. Calling me so many names. The Pharaoh within was so harsh. To sleep more, rest more, and play more was not at first permitted.

It has taken quite a few months to adjust to a slower, more relaxed lifestyle.

The voices have slowly subsided with the Word of God beside me.

What I mean to say is this. Depression can be likened to the plagues sent by God. Plagues sent to free God’s people from the grip of their slave master, Pharaoh.

In the same way, I see that the voice of my inner Pharaoh could only vanquished when I became cognizant of his voice. In my depression, I see that my depression is caused, in part, by the internalized lies and voices of culture.

Renouncing these lies, and replacing them with the words of the Gospel, has been a healing balm to me.

Having said all that, I don’t completely despise my inner Pharaoh. He responded in fear to the difficult circumstances of my existence, and could only see bottomless, unsustainable work as the only security against the circumstances I had faced.

A really sick father at the age of twelve.

Moving states at ten. Moving states at 14. Moving churches multiple times.

Having no fucking clue about healthy, holy sexuality and struggling with pornography and shame for over a decade in self-isolation.

Yes, this is a sop story. My sop story.

All-in-all, the depression is still well and alive, as someday the voices get through my mental defences. But I am slowly learning to subdue them with The Spirit before they really do their damage.

This is the easy yoke of Christ. Not the heavy yoke of unhealthy self-expectation. The unhealthy self-expectation of a Inner Pharaoh.

And yes, Peter Scazzero, I am totally over spiritualizing, totally over personalizing, the biblical text here. Sorry for not following your advice.