Today I read two posts that connected with my past on a deep level. One was an article talking about trigger warnings in classrooms and how there is a trend towards keeping places safe and free from emotionally fraught material. The other post was a blog written by one of my new favorite authors about her experience speaking at her alma mater.
When I remember my time in college, I have to fight to see the good parts. Because there were good parts. There were friendships and wonderful professors and late night giggles and getting yelled at too many times to count for being too loud during quiet hours. There were fall retreats and Battle of the Floors and singing in choir and loving the city I lived in even though it also scared and intimidated me. But mostly I remember how hellish my final time there was. I remember the crippling depression, the eating disorder, the alcohol abuse, the self-injury, the hospitalizations (yes, plural) because I didn't know if I had the strength to keep living. I remember falling HARD and feeling like there was no one to help.
College was where I first got real help. I had a counselor who made me feel less alone, like my problems weren't who I was, just things I was dealing with. So I will forever be grateful for the help I DID receive, because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that help saved my life. But college was also the place where I learned that my problems were too much, too big. I learned that Christian institutions want shiny, happy, healthy students that they can show off to benefactors, alumni, and potential students. They don't want messy imperfection in their walls. I remember living in fear of being honest with how bad things were because I was afraid of being kicked out, afraid of being rejected. Well, that did happen to me, and it was every bit as horrifying as I had feared.
I am super passionate about people feeling supported when they are down. I have been in the black pit of depression too many times, and I live in a constant state of alert waiting for the next cycle of despair to rear up and try to drag me under. I know how isolating it feels when your friends and family seem happy and healthy and you feel alienated from them in every way. I know how HARD it is to have faith when you can't feel love or joy or peace or hope and everyone who tries to make you feel better feels gratingly fake. So when a friend comes to me and wants to talk about how they're REALLY feeling, I do my very best to be a good listener. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning and someone asked if they can use my floatation device, too, but I try to listen anyway because I know they might not find another person to help them float a little until it's too late.
Why don't we talk more about how hard it is to be human? Why don't we talk more about how painful it is to be alive? I'm not saying there aren't AMAZING things about life, but I'm so tired of hearing how amazing things are when they most certainly are NOT in my life. It has been 8 years since I had the courage to go to the counselor's office at my college and say that I didn't know why, but my life was hard and I needed help or I wasn't going to make it. Sometimes I wonder how different my life might be if I had known how to ask for help sooner. Part of the problem was that none of the people around me had any understanding of mental illness. Pretty much my first year of counseling was learning what depression was and how to identify what I was feeling. Because I didn't know how to sit with my emotions long enough to identify them and their roots. All I knew was that I was supposed to be happy, but I wasn't.
I want a culture where we don't hide when life is hard. I want an environment when pastors and church leaders can publicly talk about the hard parts of their lives as they live through them, not once it's all over and resolved. I want people to feel safe talking about their pain so we can learn to empathize and understand each other. The more we understand each other, the better we can love each other. We have to stop crucifying people for failing, because THAT'S WHAT HUMANS DO. We fail. But we learn from our failures, and that's how we grow and mature.
Tomorrow will mark 5 months since my dad died. The first month after the funeral, I was more angry at the lack of support from the people around me than I was sad about my dad being gone. Part of that was because anger is easier to deal with than pain and sadness, but part of it was because I was so furious that even after years and years of trying to build a support system for just such an event, it failed spectacularly. I was furious at every person who tried to high five me and be cheerful in my direction. There was NO room in the culture around me for me to mourn openly. I felt anguish and guilt at how poorly I had supported my three friends who lost parents just months before I lost my dad. Being on the other side, I had so much more insight about how to be a good friend in times of tragedy. If I couldn't figure out how to find a safe place to express my true feelings for a loss that people universally recognize is devastating, how am I supposed to create a safe place for people who have hidden, little understood hurts? Why are we so afraid to drop the smile and cry when we are hurting? I know it's hard. My therapist and I have been working closely together for six and a half years, and I think I've only cried twice in front of him.
I don't have answers. I know it's hard. But if we all made an effort to reach out just a little, I think it would add up to a lot. If we all just texted one or two people each week to say, "Hey, thinking of you. How are you doing today?" I think maybe we would feel less alone and a little safer to share our true selves. I think we wouldn't be so afraid to share the complex parts of our humanity because we would understand that we belong to each other and together we can do hard things (to borrow two sayings from one of my favorite authors Glennon Doyle Melton). Sometimes when I need support the most, I offer support to a friend, and then we discover that we can support each other and make it through.
Showing posts with label Vulnerability. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vulnerability. Show all posts
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Inundated with Depression
I have spent pretty much all of today immersed in depression. I felt it in my heart, my head, read it with my eyes, listened to a talk about depression, cried tears related to depression, craved (and ate) sugar because of depression. It's been rolling over and through me in wave after wave.
I felt raw all day. Last night I cried and stayed up too late trying to sort out how I felt. Today I read blog after blog about depression. When a beloved actor commits suicide, people share all their thoughts about mental illness, even the ones that are ignorant and hurtful. People who should have just listened spoke and caused harm instead of healing.
I've been listening to Jason Gray's latest album for the last few days. He doesn't really have a unique sound. He fits right in with the typical Christian pop music melody-wise. It's his lyrics that make him stand out from the crowd. His songs are the most honest songs I've ever heard.
I keep holding on to the lyrics from the end of this song: "You don't even have to speak/Just sit with me in the ashes here/And together we can pray for peace/To the one acquainted with our grief." It's just the worst when I risk being vulnerable, take off my mask, and let someone know how I've really been doing, how much depression has really been hurting me, and they try to fix it or they brush it off. Sometimes more than anything I just want a friend to bring me some ice cream and sit with me while we watch a couple episodes of Friends. I just want someone to be there, to sit with me in the pain, to walk beside me as I try to make it long enough for it to get better.
I've been feeling incredibly lonely over the past few months. I've been fighting depression mostly by myself. I've had long-distance support from my best friend who lives on the West Coast, and of course my therapist helps. But I'm still left alone most of the time. I was thinking tonight that fighting depression is like training for sports competition. I should disclose that my only experience with playing sports outside of gym class in high school was when I played flag football in college, so the analogy probably isn't perfect. But it's fourth and goal and I'm going for it (I'm so full of sports knowledge!).
I spend all day every day training (fighting depression). I know that I need help to know how to train better, more efficiently, so I hired a coach (counselor/therapist). He gives advice, educates, cheers me on. It's a special kind of relationship, but it's professional. I need more help than just one person can give me, more support, so I've sought out some teammates, as it were (other people who are walking their own journey of mental health). I've attended a depression support group a few times, and it is so encouraging to know I'm not the only one going through this. So now I feel like there are other people on the field who are working towards the same goal I am, and if we help each other we can all get closer to the goal (making it through each day, getting to a place where we feel more in control of our mental illness). What's missing are fans (friends). Fans just show up and cheer on the athletes. They're supportive even though they can't hop on the field and play the game for me. This is a game where critics are not welcome, but fans are deeply appreciated. I keep looking up at the stands hoping for someone to smile and wave at me, cheering me on, but the stands are empty. My family loves me, and I love them dearly, but they don't live near me. It's like they're watching on TV; they're cheering me on, but it's not the same as watching the game live. The thing about fans that is so great is that they're there only if they want to be. I pay my coach. He's totally on my team, helping me, cheering me on, but it's different. I want people to choose to root for me just because they care about me and believe in me. People who are actively in my life because they live here and they like me.
So all these thoughts and feelings have been rolling around in my head. I'm trying to sort out my faith in the midst of feeling like church is harming more than helping. I started trying to connect with God in different ways and discovered that I love going to mass at the catholic cathedral a mile from my apartment. It brings peace to my soul. It feels a little weird to share all this, to talk about how much depression hurts, to talk about how I'm trying new things which is scary but helpful. Tonight I was at a talk on depression, and after the speaker shared his own story of dealing with depression and anxiety, he shared some scripture. He talked about how the Bible is testimony, and there is tension between the testimonies it contains. The primary testimony is how God relates to the people with whom he chooses to be in relationship, how he sees them, rescues them, loves them. And there are testimonies that are in direct opposition to that primary testimony, people who acknowledge how God has shown up for their ancestors, but they also cry out asking why God has forsaken them. Thinking about how the Bible is a collection of people sharing how they have or haven't encountered God made me want to testify the truth of my life right now. I felt compelled to share more about what depression is like for me, what trying to find God and faith in the midst of the pain is like. For years now I've hoped that somehow my experiences, my story, my testimony could somehow help someone else. They can't do that if I keep everything to myself and hide behind a mask of "I'm fine," so for now this blog feels like a safe way to experiment with sharing.
I felt raw all day. Last night I cried and stayed up too late trying to sort out how I felt. Today I read blog after blog about depression. When a beloved actor commits suicide, people share all their thoughts about mental illness, even the ones that are ignorant and hurtful. People who should have just listened spoke and caused harm instead of healing.
I've been listening to Jason Gray's latest album for the last few days. He doesn't really have a unique sound. He fits right in with the typical Christian pop music melody-wise. It's his lyrics that make him stand out from the crowd. His songs are the most honest songs I've ever heard.
I keep holding on to the lyrics from the end of this song: "You don't even have to speak/Just sit with me in the ashes here/And together we can pray for peace/To the one acquainted with our grief." It's just the worst when I risk being vulnerable, take off my mask, and let someone know how I've really been doing, how much depression has really been hurting me, and they try to fix it or they brush it off. Sometimes more than anything I just want a friend to bring me some ice cream and sit with me while we watch a couple episodes of Friends. I just want someone to be there, to sit with me in the pain, to walk beside me as I try to make it long enough for it to get better.
I've been feeling incredibly lonely over the past few months. I've been fighting depression mostly by myself. I've had long-distance support from my best friend who lives on the West Coast, and of course my therapist helps. But I'm still left alone most of the time. I was thinking tonight that fighting depression is like training for sports competition. I should disclose that my only experience with playing sports outside of gym class in high school was when I played flag football in college, so the analogy probably isn't perfect. But it's fourth and goal and I'm going for it (I'm so full of sports knowledge!).
I spend all day every day training (fighting depression). I know that I need help to know how to train better, more efficiently, so I hired a coach (counselor/therapist). He gives advice, educates, cheers me on. It's a special kind of relationship, but it's professional. I need more help than just one person can give me, more support, so I've sought out some teammates, as it were (other people who are walking their own journey of mental health). I've attended a depression support group a few times, and it is so encouraging to know I'm not the only one going through this. So now I feel like there are other people on the field who are working towards the same goal I am, and if we help each other we can all get closer to the goal (making it through each day, getting to a place where we feel more in control of our mental illness). What's missing are fans (friends). Fans just show up and cheer on the athletes. They're supportive even though they can't hop on the field and play the game for me. This is a game where critics are not welcome, but fans are deeply appreciated. I keep looking up at the stands hoping for someone to smile and wave at me, cheering me on, but the stands are empty. My family loves me, and I love them dearly, but they don't live near me. It's like they're watching on TV; they're cheering me on, but it's not the same as watching the game live. The thing about fans that is so great is that they're there only if they want to be. I pay my coach. He's totally on my team, helping me, cheering me on, but it's different. I want people to choose to root for me just because they care about me and believe in me. People who are actively in my life because they live here and they like me.
So all these thoughts and feelings have been rolling around in my head. I'm trying to sort out my faith in the midst of feeling like church is harming more than helping. I started trying to connect with God in different ways and discovered that I love going to mass at the catholic cathedral a mile from my apartment. It brings peace to my soul. It feels a little weird to share all this, to talk about how much depression hurts, to talk about how I'm trying new things which is scary but helpful. Tonight I was at a talk on depression, and after the speaker shared his own story of dealing with depression and anxiety, he shared some scripture. He talked about how the Bible is testimony, and there is tension between the testimonies it contains. The primary testimony is how God relates to the people with whom he chooses to be in relationship, how he sees them, rescues them, loves them. And there are testimonies that are in direct opposition to that primary testimony, people who acknowledge how God has shown up for their ancestors, but they also cry out asking why God has forsaken them. Thinking about how the Bible is a collection of people sharing how they have or haven't encountered God made me want to testify the truth of my life right now. I felt compelled to share more about what depression is like for me, what trying to find God and faith in the midst of the pain is like. For years now I've hoped that somehow my experiences, my story, my testimony could somehow help someone else. They can't do that if I keep everything to myself and hide behind a mask of "I'm fine," so for now this blog feels like a safe way to experiment with sharing.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Who I Am
Last night was the first meeting of the summer book group in which I am participating. We're reading "Girls with Swords," by Lisa Bevere. We've only hit up the first chapter, but its about choosing who you will be. Will you be a hero in your story, in other people's stories? I'm pretty excited about it, and we had a great group of women there.
Today I finally remembered to look up a music video that a friend told me about weeks ago. I'm already on the3rd 4th 5th listen through, and I wanted to share it.
This is a constant struggle for me, to discern if the things that have been said to me are truth or lies. It's especially hard when some of the most awful things people have said or done to me are by people I was supposed to be able to trust, people who were supposed to be looking out for me. I am trying to embrace the truth that I am a daughter of the most high King, that I am loved, wanted, cherished. In a world where people grow, change, and move in and out of seasons of life, it can be really hard for me to accept that God does not change. He does not love me more or less based on how I act. He doesn't get tired of me and move on, or get married and have no time for me anymore.
This is where it gets hard for me: I FEEL like God doesn't love me, or none of my friends care about me. It can be really hard for me to acknowledge that my feelings do not determine how others feel. That's why I still have birthday cards up on my VCR. They (and the kind words inside) are tangible reminders of the friends I have, things that I can't deny. And when I focus on those, my feelings start to change, to line up with the truth that I have amazing friends who love me.
That's why I started trying to memorize the book of Ephesians earlier this year. Sadly, I dropped the ball, but I intend to pick it back up and keep going. Meditating verse by verse, even sentence by sentence, helps the truth of God's love to sink in deep down. As a wise friend pointed out to me yesterday, sometimes what I really need is to take my problems and hurts to God first. It's ridiculous how easy it is for me to forget how healing being in His presence can be.
I am a beloved daughter of Christ. I have been purchased at a high price. I am God's masterpiece. I am a warrior. I left normal behind and am now covered in righteousness.
Today I finally remembered to look up a music video that a friend told me about weeks ago. I'm already on the
This is a constant struggle for me, to discern if the things that have been said to me are truth or lies. It's especially hard when some of the most awful things people have said or done to me are by people I was supposed to be able to trust, people who were supposed to be looking out for me. I am trying to embrace the truth that I am a daughter of the most high King, that I am loved, wanted, cherished. In a world where people grow, change, and move in and out of seasons of life, it can be really hard for me to accept that God does not change. He does not love me more or less based on how I act. He doesn't get tired of me and move on, or get married and have no time for me anymore.
This is where it gets hard for me: I FEEL like God doesn't love me, or none of my friends care about me. It can be really hard for me to acknowledge that my feelings do not determine how others feel. That's why I still have birthday cards up on my VCR. They (and the kind words inside) are tangible reminders of the friends I have, things that I can't deny. And when I focus on those, my feelings start to change, to line up with the truth that I have amazing friends who love me.
That's why I started trying to memorize the book of Ephesians earlier this year. Sadly, I dropped the ball, but I intend to pick it back up and keep going. Meditating verse by verse, even sentence by sentence, helps the truth of God's love to sink in deep down. As a wise friend pointed out to me yesterday, sometimes what I really need is to take my problems and hurts to God first. It's ridiculous how easy it is for me to forget how healing being in His presence can be.
I am a beloved daughter of Christ. I have been purchased at a high price. I am God's masterpiece. I am a warrior. I left normal behind and am now covered in righteousness.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Desperate Prayers
Last night a good friend of mine preached at our church's midweek service. She talked about desperate prayers, and while I don't remember the five points of her message, I hope I always remember the prayer I prayed afterward. There were about 40 minutes after she finished where there was time for prayer and worship, and I thought about all the things going on right now where I am trusting because that's all I can do. This is what I ended up praying:
I can't.
Over and over again, I prayed that. I can't. I. Can't. You HAVE to, because I can't. YOU have to, because I can't. I can't heal sick family members. I can't replace my car or my computer or save enough for retirement. I can't save the people I love. I can't run my life by myself.
Last night I felt some of the desperation of realizing that I cannot live my life without God. I stopped trying for a moment, stopped clinging to the edge of the cliff, stopped trying to string my life together. I stopped picturing myself struggling to piece my life together when I'm 75 and alone. I let go of the cliff, free falled, and told God that He has to because I can't.
And today I feel like a weight has been lifted off me.
It's not that I won't ever struggle or worry. I'm human. But I think I have begun on the path of learning to truly put my life in the hands of God, of trusting that He will care for me for my entire life. Somehow I had this idea that when my parents were gone, when I get old, when the people I love start to die, that there would be no one to care for me, to care about me. I somehow managed to believe that God could only take care of me if certain people were in my life. How freeing to realize that God is bigger than that, that while God shows his love and care through people, he does not require the planets to align in exactly the right way in order for Him to be able to provide and care for His children.
I still have some really big things going on right now that have not yet been resolved. And when there is finally resolution, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be celebrating like crazy. In the meantime, I am holding on to the big picture of God's life-long provision and care. I am remembering how God provided manna and quail in the wilderness. I am remembering how God has cared for His people through all kinds of dire circumstances. I am choosing to claim victory over my life.
I can't.
Over and over again, I prayed that. I can't. I. Can't. You HAVE to, because I can't. YOU have to, because I can't. I can't heal sick family members. I can't replace my car or my computer or save enough for retirement. I can't save the people I love. I can't run my life by myself.
Last night I felt some of the desperation of realizing that I cannot live my life without God. I stopped trying for a moment, stopped clinging to the edge of the cliff, stopped trying to string my life together. I stopped picturing myself struggling to piece my life together when I'm 75 and alone. I let go of the cliff, free falled, and told God that He has to because I can't.
And today I feel like a weight has been lifted off me.
It's not that I won't ever struggle or worry. I'm human. But I think I have begun on the path of learning to truly put my life in the hands of God, of trusting that He will care for me for my entire life. Somehow I had this idea that when my parents were gone, when I get old, when the people I love start to die, that there would be no one to care for me, to care about me. I somehow managed to believe that God could only take care of me if certain people were in my life. How freeing to realize that God is bigger than that, that while God shows his love and care through people, he does not require the planets to align in exactly the right way in order for Him to be able to provide and care for His children.
I still have some really big things going on right now that have not yet been resolved. And when there is finally resolution, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be celebrating like crazy. In the meantime, I am holding on to the big picture of God's life-long provision and care. I am remembering how God provided manna and quail in the wilderness. I am remembering how God has cared for His people through all kinds of dire circumstances. I am choosing to claim victory over my life.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Depression
Last week I read this article and sent myself an email reminder to write a blog about depression. So of course I forgot. And then today I was thinking about what I want next week to look like, what I want January to look like, and I started thinking about how I want to interact with my friends right now in light of the depression that's creeping in.
I was diagnosed with major depression in college. It was probably two years of feeling like life was not worth living, of feeling like there was no hope. Getting better and feeling more normal was a long, gradual process. As I look at the past two years, I can see a pattern emerging. Spring turns into summer and I'm enjoying life. I'm involved in activities, I'm seeing my friends on a regular basis, and things are good. Fall rolls around, and I love the cooler weather, the beautiful foliage, the golden sunlight. Once winter starts to set in, though, especially around the time we set our clocks back, I start to love life a little less. It's gradual and in dribs and drabs, but a bad day here and there becomes a bad week, and then I seem to have a bad month or so before spring hits.*
Everyone has good days and bad days. That roller coaster of emotion is just part of being human. When depression starts to set in, it's different. Where once I would wake up in the morning feeling emotionally recharged after a bad day, depression keeps the negative emotions rolling from one day to the next. I don't bounce back very quickly from emotionally difficult or draining situations. I have a much harder time joking with friends, having light conversation. Everything feels heavier. I will probably enjoy myself at events and when I'm with my friends, but often the happiness is gone by the time I reach my car. I feel like crying a lot more for no reason, and even though I can usually hold it in I'll get choked up more frequently. Sometimes my car is the only place I can let it out.
One of the biggest ways depression affects me is how it hits my faith. I constantly wrestle with my faith, whether I am in a season of health or a season of depression. I question, I doubt, I get angry, I long for neat and tidy answers that I can understand. When I am depressed, the joy goes out of my faith. I go through the motions because I know I can't base my faith entirely on my emotions.** I show up at church, I volunteer, I try to still be there for others. Leading is doable but difficult. I walk a very fine line between faking it and being genuine but not negative. It is hard. One thing I have said before is that I cannot hope for myself when it feels like this. I have to rely on my friends to hope and believe for me. That being said, here are things that are helpful for me when depression is dragging me down:***
1. Don't constantly quote scripture or talk about how everything will get better. Some people will disagree, but I find it insincere and grating. I don't need a friend to pull me out of my depression. I need a friend to walk through it with me. For me, that means letting me talk when I need to or not talking at all. I will be less likely to open up if I feel like I'm going to be brushed aside and fed a cliche (no matter how true the cliche may be).
2. Ask how I'm doing (but only if you really want to know). I hate trying to figure out how to be pleasant around people when I'm not doing well. People constantly ask, "How's it going?" but don't want to know if the answer isn't, "Good." I have yet to find a good way to answer vaguely that things could be better without making the entire conversation awkward, and I just hate being insincere and saying everything's fine when it's actually the opposite.
3. Pray for me, but not necessarily with me. I know that prayer is helpful, even when it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes all prayer is to me is knowing that my friends think I'm important enough to bring me up to God. I've found that when I'm feeling really depressed, it is hard and sometimes even painful to hear people speak hope over me. It really depends on the day and setting.
4. Spend time with me doing little things. I'm never one for huge events. It's just not my style. When I'm depressed, my desire to withdraw and become a hermit increases exponentially. A few weeks ago I spend an afternoon with a friend doing nothing. We watched movies, ate snacks, talked, and we made wearing sweatpants a requirement. That is the kind of thing that recharges me. I love going to dinner or coffee one on one, or just watching TV and doing nothing. Low-key things are best, especially since depressions saps my energy even lower than normal.
I don't often talk details about depression. We don't talk much about how we feel in my family, and when it comes to my friends I don't want to be the person who is always dragging things down and becoming a burden. It's tough to find a balance of leaning on friends but not pulling them under. I know that depression comes and goes, and it's just going to be part of my life. I hope that people continue to become educated about mental illness so that there won't be a stigma about it. So many people think they know what it's like and they just don't. If we could just love each other and accept that people need to get help in different ways, that would be a huge step forward.****
*It's so obvious as I write this that I probably have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). My therapist has been encouraging me for the last few winters to invest in a lightbox. Might be time to start saving up. Also, my cousin Rachel typically footnotes her blogs, and I realized that since I tend to be a lengthy aside person, I should totally do it, too.
**I hear repeatedly that faith cannot be based on emotion. I don't entirely agree. I think our emotions are tied to our belief, and if our emotions are constantly being dragged down, it can be really hard to believe things that are opposite of how you feel. I don't think there's any simple answer for how to deal with "desert" times.
***Everyone is different. With all the different personality types and different stages of life, of course depression will look very different for people. This is based on me, personally.
****Some people need medication to feel better. Some people need extensive therapy. No two people are going to respond to treatment the same way, so it's important not to pressure people away from help they need. I've been in regular counseling since late 2007, and it's helped tremendously. I've tried a bunch of different medications, and while none of them worked for me, I know people who felt better just weeks after starting meds.
I was diagnosed with major depression in college. It was probably two years of feeling like life was not worth living, of feeling like there was no hope. Getting better and feeling more normal was a long, gradual process. As I look at the past two years, I can see a pattern emerging. Spring turns into summer and I'm enjoying life. I'm involved in activities, I'm seeing my friends on a regular basis, and things are good. Fall rolls around, and I love the cooler weather, the beautiful foliage, the golden sunlight. Once winter starts to set in, though, especially around the time we set our clocks back, I start to love life a little less. It's gradual and in dribs and drabs, but a bad day here and there becomes a bad week, and then I seem to have a bad month or so before spring hits.*
Everyone has good days and bad days. That roller coaster of emotion is just part of being human. When depression starts to set in, it's different. Where once I would wake up in the morning feeling emotionally recharged after a bad day, depression keeps the negative emotions rolling from one day to the next. I don't bounce back very quickly from emotionally difficult or draining situations. I have a much harder time joking with friends, having light conversation. Everything feels heavier. I will probably enjoy myself at events and when I'm with my friends, but often the happiness is gone by the time I reach my car. I feel like crying a lot more for no reason, and even though I can usually hold it in I'll get choked up more frequently. Sometimes my car is the only place I can let it out.
One of the biggest ways depression affects me is how it hits my faith. I constantly wrestle with my faith, whether I am in a season of health or a season of depression. I question, I doubt, I get angry, I long for neat and tidy answers that I can understand. When I am depressed, the joy goes out of my faith. I go through the motions because I know I can't base my faith entirely on my emotions.** I show up at church, I volunteer, I try to still be there for others. Leading is doable but difficult. I walk a very fine line between faking it and being genuine but not negative. It is hard. One thing I have said before is that I cannot hope for myself when it feels like this. I have to rely on my friends to hope and believe for me. That being said, here are things that are helpful for me when depression is dragging me down:***
1. Don't constantly quote scripture or talk about how everything will get better. Some people will disagree, but I find it insincere and grating. I don't need a friend to pull me out of my depression. I need a friend to walk through it with me. For me, that means letting me talk when I need to or not talking at all. I will be less likely to open up if I feel like I'm going to be brushed aside and fed a cliche (no matter how true the cliche may be).
2. Ask how I'm doing (but only if you really want to know). I hate trying to figure out how to be pleasant around people when I'm not doing well. People constantly ask, "How's it going?" but don't want to know if the answer isn't, "Good." I have yet to find a good way to answer vaguely that things could be better without making the entire conversation awkward, and I just hate being insincere and saying everything's fine when it's actually the opposite.
3. Pray for me, but not necessarily with me. I know that prayer is helpful, even when it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes all prayer is to me is knowing that my friends think I'm important enough to bring me up to God. I've found that when I'm feeling really depressed, it is hard and sometimes even painful to hear people speak hope over me. It really depends on the day and setting.
4. Spend time with me doing little things. I'm never one for huge events. It's just not my style. When I'm depressed, my desire to withdraw and become a hermit increases exponentially. A few weeks ago I spend an afternoon with a friend doing nothing. We watched movies, ate snacks, talked, and we made wearing sweatpants a requirement. That is the kind of thing that recharges me. I love going to dinner or coffee one on one, or just watching TV and doing nothing. Low-key things are best, especially since depressions saps my energy even lower than normal.
I don't often talk details about depression. We don't talk much about how we feel in my family, and when it comes to my friends I don't want to be the person who is always dragging things down and becoming a burden. It's tough to find a balance of leaning on friends but not pulling them under. I know that depression comes and goes, and it's just going to be part of my life. I hope that people continue to become educated about mental illness so that there won't be a stigma about it. So many people think they know what it's like and they just don't. If we could just love each other and accept that people need to get help in different ways, that would be a huge step forward.****
*It's so obvious as I write this that I probably have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). My therapist has been encouraging me for the last few winters to invest in a lightbox. Might be time to start saving up. Also, my cousin Rachel typically footnotes her blogs, and I realized that since I tend to be a lengthy aside person, I should totally do it, too.
**I hear repeatedly that faith cannot be based on emotion. I don't entirely agree. I think our emotions are tied to our belief, and if our emotions are constantly being dragged down, it can be really hard to believe things that are opposite of how you feel. I don't think there's any simple answer for how to deal with "desert" times.
***Everyone is different. With all the different personality types and different stages of life, of course depression will look very different for people. This is based on me, personally.
****Some people need medication to feel better. Some people need extensive therapy. No two people are going to respond to treatment the same way, so it's important not to pressure people away from help they need. I've been in regular counseling since late 2007, and it's helped tremendously. I've tried a bunch of different medications, and while none of them worked for me, I know people who felt better just weeks after starting meds.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Pride: A Story of Ramen
I struggle a lot with pride. It's hard for me because I'm not the type who goes around openly saying that I'm better than other people. I actually often compare myself to other people and find myself short all the time (but that's a whole different issue). My pride is the quiet, hidden thoughts I have about other people and how I'm better than them.
I realized this yet again on Monday. What happened Monday? I ate Ramen noodles. Now for most of my friends, this would be no big deal. I mean, Ramen noodles are a college student's best friend, right?
I did not eat Ramen even once in college. Sort of on purpose. Monday was the first time I ever ate Ramen noodles.
When I was in college and a broke student, I never went looking for Ramen at the grocery store. I made a conscious decision not to eat Ramen. Because I was proud. See, I had this picture in my head that Ramen was for poor people who couldn't afford "real" food. And I wasn't a "poor" person. I was well off, I was fantastic, I was BETTER.
How arrogant. How sad.
It's cool to be thrifty now. There's even a TV show called "Extreme Couponing." People are all about saving money. But when I was in college, I wanted to look like I was the type of person who didn't need to worry about money. It's such a shallow, silly thing. I used to be embarrassed that I would shop at Aldi. Now I'm proud that I don't spend a ton on groceries.
It shouldn't matter what other people think. Food is food, and I can't believe that I smug about not eating a certain kind of food. Especially now that I know it's tasty and I can buy lots of it and not break my budget. Maybe it was just a youthful foolishness sort of phase. But pride is pride, and now that I've tried Ramen and am hooked, I need to be on the lookout for the next thing that I'll cling to to make me feel better. I shouldn't even be comparing myself to others to find my worth.
It's not about what I eat, what I buy, what I do. I am created in God's image and Jesus died so that I could spend eternity in heaven. My pride seems unbelievably foolish when I take the time to look at the big picture.
I realized this yet again on Monday. What happened Monday? I ate Ramen noodles. Now for most of my friends, this would be no big deal. I mean, Ramen noodles are a college student's best friend, right?
I did not eat Ramen even once in college. Sort of on purpose. Monday was the first time I ever ate Ramen noodles.
When I was in college and a broke student, I never went looking for Ramen at the grocery store. I made a conscious decision not to eat Ramen. Because I was proud. See, I had this picture in my head that Ramen was for poor people who couldn't afford "real" food. And I wasn't a "poor" person. I was well off, I was fantastic, I was BETTER.
How arrogant. How sad.
It's cool to be thrifty now. There's even a TV show called "Extreme Couponing." People are all about saving money. But when I was in college, I wanted to look like I was the type of person who didn't need to worry about money. It's such a shallow, silly thing. I used to be embarrassed that I would shop at Aldi. Now I'm proud that I don't spend a ton on groceries.
It shouldn't matter what other people think. Food is food, and I can't believe that I smug about not eating a certain kind of food. Especially now that I know it's tasty and I can buy lots of it and not break my budget. Maybe it was just a youthful foolishness sort of phase. But pride is pride, and now that I've tried Ramen and am hooked, I need to be on the lookout for the next thing that I'll cling to to make me feel better. I shouldn't even be comparing myself to others to find my worth.
It's not about what I eat, what I buy, what I do. I am created in God's image and Jesus died so that I could spend eternity in heaven. My pride seems unbelievably foolish when I take the time to look at the big picture.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
When You Can't Forget the Bad
How do you acknowledge life-changing events? If they're good, it's great to celebrate. We celebrate birthdays every year. We celebrate marriage anniversaries. We enjoy annual things, like Christmas, and the last day of school (or first, if you're so inclined). Holidays can be great.
So what do you do when the anniversary of something bad comes up? People acknowledge anniversaries of the death of loved ones in different ways. For something like that, I have spent time by myself in quiet reflection. There have also been times when I am with people and we share memories of the people we love. Remembering those people is important.
I am, however, upon a week of bad memories for which there is no precedent on handling. Life-changing bad memories. I've taken time to think about all the good changes that have happened since then, to appreciate the good things in my life right now. But it still hurts. I don't just forget the way people treated me, spoke to me, how I felt, what happened. I still feel those things when I think about it.
The thing is, I don't want to forget. Not really. It's a significant time in my life. For better or for worse, it's shaped who I am.
I just wish it didn't hurt or make me doubt myself.
So what do you do when the anniversary of something bad comes up? People acknowledge anniversaries of the death of loved ones in different ways. For something like that, I have spent time by myself in quiet reflection. There have also been times when I am with people and we share memories of the people we love. Remembering those people is important.
I am, however, upon a week of bad memories for which there is no precedent on handling. Life-changing bad memories. I've taken time to think about all the good changes that have happened since then, to appreciate the good things in my life right now. But it still hurts. I don't just forget the way people treated me, spoke to me, how I felt, what happened. I still feel those things when I think about it.
The thing is, I don't want to forget. Not really. It's a significant time in my life. For better or for worse, it's shaped who I am.
I just wish it didn't hurt or make me doubt myself.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Sectioning off who you are
I have different categories of friends. Friends from high school, friends from college, friends from church. My friends have known me in different times of my life. I've had theatre friends, floormate friends, Spanish Club friends. Generally friendships are formed based on common interests. Isn't that what you do with your friends? You get together and do something you both enjoy.
I hate having to wall off part of who I am when I'm around some people. I'm not talking about when you decide not to disclose all of your deepest, darkest secrets with a friend you've only known a short while. In my case I'm talking about my faith. I went to a Christian college, so my college friends and I share the same basic faith. My church friends and I share the same basic faith. But when it comes to friends from high school, or maybe people at work, my faith is something that I feel I have to hide.
My friends have always respected me to my face. They've never said I was stupid for believing in God. They've never accused me to my face of being judgmental. I have a deep fear that if I was honest about my beliefs on certain things, some people would no longer be my friend. In high school, I was afraid of losing the only friends I had, of losing a life that I'd never had before and was desperate not to lose. Now that I have a wider circle of friends, I'm not as afraid of losing my friends. What I'm afraid of is of saying or doing something that would offend them so much that they wouldn't be open to anything having to do with God at all.
Not all of my beliefs are politically correct. Actually, most of them probably aren't. And I'm OK with that. I do believe that people should be free to choose what to believe in. I also believe that despite thinking others should be free to choose, they can choose wrong. I don't believe all religions are equal. And I think there are a lot of things in our culture today that are widely accepted but shouldn't be, because they're sins.
I really wish I knew how to be my whole self no matter who I am near. My faith is so central to who I am that it feels absurd when I section that part off. It feels kind of dishonest when I don't speak up about something that I disagree with. But I don't want that to be the only thing people focus on. I think it's also important that I love to read, that I like to paint, that I have a passion for theatre that is so big I can't describe it. I think it matters that I love fall and I'm not wild about fruits or vegetables and my favorite color is purple. The world around me is crying for people to be tolerant, but I think we've actually learned to be less tolerant of differences. It seems to me that forcing everyone to believe the same sorts of things isn't tolerating our differences at all. And who decided tolerance should always be a good thing, anyway? I wouldn't want any of my friends to tolerate an abusive relationship. We do not tolerate people committing crimes without consequences. The fact that we have laws about what is and what is not acceptable shows that there are things that should not be tolerated. I value my freedom, and I hate when I am told that I can only express my freedom in certain ways so that I don't offend others. I struggle to value the right for others to have their opinions when they're opposite of mine, but I know that freedom needs to go both ways, or it's a dictatorship.
This all comes about because tonight I was with a group of people, and as great as they are, I had a moment when I realized that I had to hide my reaction to something or they would all have a big problem with me. My belief about something doesn't change how I treat them. I already believe it; it's already how I'm treating them. It's a hard line to walk. I want so desperately for my friends to have an encounter with the one who loves us so much he sent his son to die for us so we wouldn't have to be separated for eternity. Love like that totally changes everything. I wish I wasn't so scared that my own story is too full of pain and not full enough with love to be very hopeful. Somehow, even though I know it's silly to think that God can't move because I am imperfect and my story isn't finished, I still worry that I'm going to screw up eternity for some of the people that I love the most. I hope I can learn to just be more like Jesus. He totally shook things up, was totally not PC, and he loved people like they'd never been loved before.
I hate having to wall off part of who I am when I'm around some people. I'm not talking about when you decide not to disclose all of your deepest, darkest secrets with a friend you've only known a short while. In my case I'm talking about my faith. I went to a Christian college, so my college friends and I share the same basic faith. My church friends and I share the same basic faith. But when it comes to friends from high school, or maybe people at work, my faith is something that I feel I have to hide.
My friends have always respected me to my face. They've never said I was stupid for believing in God. They've never accused me to my face of being judgmental. I have a deep fear that if I was honest about my beliefs on certain things, some people would no longer be my friend. In high school, I was afraid of losing the only friends I had, of losing a life that I'd never had before and was desperate not to lose. Now that I have a wider circle of friends, I'm not as afraid of losing my friends. What I'm afraid of is of saying or doing something that would offend them so much that they wouldn't be open to anything having to do with God at all.
Not all of my beliefs are politically correct. Actually, most of them probably aren't. And I'm OK with that. I do believe that people should be free to choose what to believe in. I also believe that despite thinking others should be free to choose, they can choose wrong. I don't believe all religions are equal. And I think there are a lot of things in our culture today that are widely accepted but shouldn't be, because they're sins.
I really wish I knew how to be my whole self no matter who I am near. My faith is so central to who I am that it feels absurd when I section that part off. It feels kind of dishonest when I don't speak up about something that I disagree with. But I don't want that to be the only thing people focus on. I think it's also important that I love to read, that I like to paint, that I have a passion for theatre that is so big I can't describe it. I think it matters that I love fall and I'm not wild about fruits or vegetables and my favorite color is purple. The world around me is crying for people to be tolerant, but I think we've actually learned to be less tolerant of differences. It seems to me that forcing everyone to believe the same sorts of things isn't tolerating our differences at all. And who decided tolerance should always be a good thing, anyway? I wouldn't want any of my friends to tolerate an abusive relationship. We do not tolerate people committing crimes without consequences. The fact that we have laws about what is and what is not acceptable shows that there are things that should not be tolerated. I value my freedom, and I hate when I am told that I can only express my freedom in certain ways so that I don't offend others. I struggle to value the right for others to have their opinions when they're opposite of mine, but I know that freedom needs to go both ways, or it's a dictatorship.
This all comes about because tonight I was with a group of people, and as great as they are, I had a moment when I realized that I had to hide my reaction to something or they would all have a big problem with me. My belief about something doesn't change how I treat them. I already believe it; it's already how I'm treating them. It's a hard line to walk. I want so desperately for my friends to have an encounter with the one who loves us so much he sent his son to die for us so we wouldn't have to be separated for eternity. Love like that totally changes everything. I wish I wasn't so scared that my own story is too full of pain and not full enough with love to be very hopeful. Somehow, even though I know it's silly to think that God can't move because I am imperfect and my story isn't finished, I still worry that I'm going to screw up eternity for some of the people that I love the most. I hope I can learn to just be more like Jesus. He totally shook things up, was totally not PC, and he loved people like they'd never been loved before.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Anger
Have you ever had the experience of hearing a sermon that could have been written specifically for you? That's what happened to me on Sunday. As a part of the series "Why Me?" Peter talked about how we can hold onto our anger when things happen, especially betrayal. At one point he asked everyone to close their eyes, and picture the person or thing they always get angry about. I immediately had four people pop into my head, and after a minute, I added one other person.
Peter showed a summary clip of "The Count of Monte Cristo." If you haven't seen it, the jist is that a man whose life is going really well is betrayed by his best friend and spends years in prison. When the man escapes, his life starts to turn around, which is clearly at God's hand. He threatens to lose all that, however, if he chooses to seek revenge on his friend. Revenge is tempting. I totally understand that. I may not want people's lives to fall apart, but I've definitely wished that the people who hurt me would be hurt back.
The point is that when we pursue revenge, we are saying that we don't trust that God will bring about his perfect justice. It's amazing how many things come down to whether or not we trust that God is in control, isn't it?
I have recognized that I get angry because I'm afraid of getting hurt again or of re-experiencing the hurts I already have. There is a person on Facebook with whom I am not friends but have several friends in common. When I see this person's name, I tense up. I have a physical reaction. I don't hate this person; it's just easier to be angry and bitter than to deal with how raw the pain still is.
Choosing to forgive is NOT easy. Forgive and forget is a lie. We don't forget when we've been wronged. But we can choose to let go. So a few minutes ago, when I saw that person's name on Facebook, when I had a second where the anger and tension tried to rear its ugly head, I chose to take a deep breath, and let it go. I'm going to have to make a conscious choice to let it go each and every time. My prayer is that with God's help, it will get easier and easier to keep letting go, and that eventually it will be second nature to let go. It is a process. I see a professional counselor to help me work through stuff like this. I pray about it, and ask others to pray for me.
I have to say, that as familiar and easy as it can be to hold on to anger, it really is incredibly freeing to let go, to choose forgiveness.
Peter showed a summary clip of "The Count of Monte Cristo." If you haven't seen it, the jist is that a man whose life is going really well is betrayed by his best friend and spends years in prison. When the man escapes, his life starts to turn around, which is clearly at God's hand. He threatens to lose all that, however, if he chooses to seek revenge on his friend. Revenge is tempting. I totally understand that. I may not want people's lives to fall apart, but I've definitely wished that the people who hurt me would be hurt back.
The point is that when we pursue revenge, we are saying that we don't trust that God will bring about his perfect justice. It's amazing how many things come down to whether or not we trust that God is in control, isn't it?
I have recognized that I get angry because I'm afraid of getting hurt again or of re-experiencing the hurts I already have. There is a person on Facebook with whom I am not friends but have several friends in common. When I see this person's name, I tense up. I have a physical reaction. I don't hate this person; it's just easier to be angry and bitter than to deal with how raw the pain still is.
Choosing to forgive is NOT easy. Forgive and forget is a lie. We don't forget when we've been wronged. But we can choose to let go. So a few minutes ago, when I saw that person's name on Facebook, when I had a second where the anger and tension tried to rear its ugly head, I chose to take a deep breath, and let it go. I'm going to have to make a conscious choice to let it go each and every time. My prayer is that with God's help, it will get easier and easier to keep letting go, and that eventually it will be second nature to let go. It is a process. I see a professional counselor to help me work through stuff like this. I pray about it, and ask others to pray for me.
I have to say, that as familiar and easy as it can be to hold on to anger, it really is incredibly freeing to let go, to choose forgiveness.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
When Shame Holds You Back
"Ain't no shame in my game."
This line floated through my head as I was out walking this morning. I picked it up after reading Carlos Whittaker's blog, and it came to mind because I was thinking about how hard it was for me to venture outside to get some exercise. I hate working out in front of people. It's horribly embarrassing. And I hate the thought of people being able to see me if I'm huffing and puffing from trying to jog a little bit instead of walking the whole way.
And then I remembered this one woman from The Biggest Loser. I think it was one where there were people from each state, but only some of the people actually got to stay. At the finale, they'd bring back the person who had lost the most weight at home on their own and compare it to the person who lost the most weight while on the show. Her transformation was incredible. I never would have believed she was overweight, she was SO tiny afterward. The thing that struck me is how hard it must have been for her to get started. She didn't have a personal trainer and a group of people around her who were working towards the same goal. She had to work out in her own neighborhood where people knew her. It's so hard to make a change like that. Sometimes people who are overweight are so ashamed of their weight that they're embarrassed to take the first hard steps towards getting in shape. That's been my struggle off and on for a long time.
Then I thought about it. No, it's not ideal that I'm out of shape now. But why should I be ashamed of taking a first step towards changing that? It takes a lot of courage to get out there and do something different than what you've done before. It is really hard to ask for help sometimes. I've been watching Hoarders, and it's got to be insanely embarrassing for these people to let the public see how bad their homes have gotten. But they are working to make a change. That is so admirable, and I think even more so because of how hard it can be to take a first step when you feel like you're at the bottom of a pit.
I realized today that there are a lot of people who don't change their lives because they're ashamed. All they can see is the mistakes they've made that lead up to the present. I think it would be amazing if people could learn to look more at the right now. Instead of focusing on the years I screwed up, what if I decided that I'm going to feel amazing today because I walked 1.9 miles and jogged 3 short portions of that? I am proud that I'm working, however slowly, to make a change in my life.
This line floated through my head as I was out walking this morning. I picked it up after reading Carlos Whittaker's blog, and it came to mind because I was thinking about how hard it was for me to venture outside to get some exercise. I hate working out in front of people. It's horribly embarrassing. And I hate the thought of people being able to see me if I'm huffing and puffing from trying to jog a little bit instead of walking the whole way.
And then I remembered this one woman from The Biggest Loser. I think it was one where there were people from each state, but only some of the people actually got to stay. At the finale, they'd bring back the person who had lost the most weight at home on their own and compare it to the person who lost the most weight while on the show. Her transformation was incredible. I never would have believed she was overweight, she was SO tiny afterward. The thing that struck me is how hard it must have been for her to get started. She didn't have a personal trainer and a group of people around her who were working towards the same goal. She had to work out in her own neighborhood where people knew her. It's so hard to make a change like that. Sometimes people who are overweight are so ashamed of their weight that they're embarrassed to take the first hard steps towards getting in shape. That's been my struggle off and on for a long time.
Then I thought about it. No, it's not ideal that I'm out of shape now. But why should I be ashamed of taking a first step towards changing that? It takes a lot of courage to get out there and do something different than what you've done before. It is really hard to ask for help sometimes. I've been watching Hoarders, and it's got to be insanely embarrassing for these people to let the public see how bad their homes have gotten. But they are working to make a change. That is so admirable, and I think even more so because of how hard it can be to take a first step when you feel like you're at the bottom of a pit.
I realized today that there are a lot of people who don't change their lives because they're ashamed. All they can see is the mistakes they've made that lead up to the present. I think it would be amazing if people could learn to look more at the right now. Instead of focusing on the years I screwed up, what if I decided that I'm going to feel amazing today because I walked 1.9 miles and jogged 3 short portions of that? I am proud that I'm working, however slowly, to make a change in my life.
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