The Black Letter

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne is one of my favorite books of all times.  Albeit, I would prefer it be rewritten in more modern English, but then again it would take some of the fun out of it.

If you haven't read it, or ever heard any type of reference to having a 'scarlet letter', the gist is this: one of the ladies in the small town has an affair, a sin unheard of and condemned greatly during that time period.  Because of this, she is forced by the town to wear a scarlet letter everywhere she goes so that anyone and everyone who sees her knows that the shiny, red 'A' she bears labels her as an adulteress and sinner, and she should be treated as such (and yes, only she is treated this way. They don't know who she had an affair with).

The book captures my attention because of how she was treated because her sin was known. The man with whom she had the affair is treated the same, as normal as possible, because they don't know of his sin until far later in the book.  As well, what about their sins? The townspeople obviously weren't sinless, but because their sins were 'smaller' they were overlooked, ignored or accepted.

No one stepped up to help this woman. The shock and outrage that one could sin to such a magnitude was despicable and disgusting in the eyes of the righteous people. No one was kind to her, no one took time to talk with her, no one bothered to understand what had happened and why. They just assumed and accused.

And the man? Treated with respect, loved by all, respected by all, despite his unknown sin.  He wasn't branded and therefore not deemed to endure the wrath and hurt of the town.  Don't worry, he gets found out. I will let you simply guess the reaction of the townspeople, and as you read it, check your own reaction.

While writing my last post, the fleeting thought of 'what people will think' caused me to pause long enough to answer 'so what.'  There comes a time when we have to push aside the judgmental thoughts of others in order to do what is best for us. Admitting my struggle with depression is a way to help me heal. That is more important than what anyone thinks.

Then I had to go to the store to stock up before not having a vehicle or hubby for 3 days. This was after my post, after people had read it. I don't know who most of those were and that is fine. I love anonymity and respect it for others.  But because I didn't know, I went into public with this 'what if they read my blog' thought stuck in my head.  I felt as if I was walking in that store branded with a large, pitch black letter D for depression. Like everyone looking at me was thinking 'oh, that's the lady who is struggling with depression. Can you believe she's overlooking all the good and choosing to be sad?'.  Obviously, that isn't the truth, but I felt like that!

Then, because I didn't feel bad enough, I ran into someone I know. Someone who had the high possibility of having read my blog. I stood there, chatting and rambling over my words like I usually do with public conversations, and the whole time thinking and expecting something to be said about my depression.  Would she condemn me, as a fellow believer, for feeling this way? Would she shame me? Would she feel sorry for me and patronize me? Would she give me flippant phrases that are supposed to help but don't?

I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack right there in the entryway of the store.

It was obvious as the conversation went on that she had no idea. If she did, I need to go back and hug her because she didn't make me feel bad in any way at all!  However, it didn't ease my mind as I continued my shopping.

The next day I had to go into public again, and the same feelings plagued me.  I felt like the guys at the tire shop knew my struggle and had an opinion about me right from the start.  I mean, seriously? Besides the fact that they are total strangers, they are MEN.  Need I say more?

I spent the rest of the day in a sullen, almost embarrassed mood. I considered removing my post and ending any personal conversations I had had about my struggle. I wanted to tuck it away and pretend like I had never admitted it. I wanted to peel that ugly, black letter off of my shoulder, crumple it up and throw it away. Going back to the way everyone thought I had been all along seemed to be the best option.

Then I would be back to where I was: hiding, falling, hopeless.  The small glimmer inside me of wanting to get out of this and be healed and live my life fought through that dark letter and encouraged me to let it be. Leave my post up, continue the personal conversation, allow others to start getting in so they can encourage me and keep me pointed to the One alone Who can completely heal me.

Let people think what they will, judge how they want. They aren't sinless or perfect in any way. I need to learn to overlook those thoughts from others and do what is necessary to get myself where I should be.

I don't need to be ashamed of this letter. Someday, someone may see it who wears the same one, and find comfort in the fact that they aren't alone. If I make it through this, I could be the one to stand and defend another depressed heart instead of shaming and branding them. I could point them to the One who loves us no matter what.