Full
Disclosure: This blog post will delve into the very personal. It will also have
the occasional four-letter-word in it.
I
haven’t truly shared a deep blog post in a while, there are a few reasons for
that;
I’ve always struggled with the practice of
regular writing, it’s never something I’ve been particularly good at. So, it
often falls by the wayside to other opportunities for engagement.
Seminary is busy and demanding. Sometimes
I need to focus my energies on my assignments and living into the very life
before me. This means that sometimes, writing doesn’t get done.
But the predominant reason I haven’t taken
the time to write in a while is due to this: Depression. Ten letters.
Due
to a series of events in my life, course content interacting in particularly
triggering ways, and demands of my internship, I spiraled into depression. For
those who haven’t experienced the dark wolf, let me simply say this, depression
is fucking brutal. It is a constant exhaustion coupled with not being able to
sleep. It’s isolating yourself from those around you while wishing someone
would just give you a hug and tell you they love you. It’s needing to do laundry
but finding yourself still sprawled across your bed three hours later, unable
to move and unable to care. You feel like you’re listening to the world through
a straw and viewing the landscape through the sides of a dirty pint glass, your
brain is covered in cheesecloth which slows down the reception and processing
of information. It hurts to breathe. It is exhausting and painful to do the
very things which are meant to sustain you.
Gratefully,
I had people in my life who I was able to reach out to. I had the people who
took me to lunch and tried to encourage me to eat. I had the people who made it
okay for me to sit in a nearly catatonic state or held silence as tears
streamed silently down my face. I had the people who made me carry a card of
names and phone numbers for three people I would call in an emergency. I had
the people who sent text messages every day just to check in. People invited me
into their homes and guest rooms simply so I didn’t have to spend the night
alone. I called people and cried, they loved me from afar, suggested scripture
to read, and prayed with me. I took medical incompletes in two classes so as
not to be a detriment to myself academically and professionally.
Some
might suggest that this platform, a blog, is not the place to share such
information. It’s airing dirty laundry for everyone to see. While I can
understand their concern, I respond with the question, “What about depression
and concerns for mental health make them particularly ‘dirty’ to society?” I
choose to share this information because I believe that the more we are
transparent about mental health issues the stronger we become as people and a
society. When we talk about it and acknowledge it, we remove some of the shame
and guilt which keeps people in the closet. When we talk about mental health in
everyday life without whispering in hushed tones behind closed doors, we make
the prospect of seeking help attainable. When we don’t talk about mental
health, those who do have experiences with mood disorders just continue to feel
like isolated, fucked up freaks. We don’t need that. So, I choose to name my
depression. I choose to do so because it is healthy for me in my own growth and
awareness, and I choose to do so with the knowledge that someone else may be
experiencing depression and they should know that they are not alone. There is
a vulnerability to naming and claiming our needs in this world, it is a
vulnerability which invites the sacred in to work in new and exciting ways.
Some
people suggest that mental illness is a sign of weakness, that God never gives
us more than we can handle. I think that’s bullshit. If you really believe that
God never gives each of us more than we can handle, I call upon you to look
into the eyes of a family grieving the loss of a loved one to suicide and say
that. Because sometimes, for some people, life truly shovels more shit on us
than we can handle.
I
know some people who believe strongly in redemptive suffering and believe that
all suffering serves a purpose. I don’t agree with them. I believe that this
experience will better equip me to be a stronger pastor, but I’d rather it not
have happened.
We
talk frequently in theological circles about the concepts of wholeness and
brokenness. I cringe to when these terms
are used because brokenness implies wrongness or defect. Wholeness implies that
any brokenness we’ve ever experienced is erased from the slate and never leaves
a mark; I think we can all agree that such an idea is bullshit. Perhaps I’m
thinking in too literal or linear a framework; but I think we’re all
simultaneously broken and whole. It is the beauty in our brokenness which
allows us to see ourselves as whole human beings despite our faults. It is the
duct tape over the crack which tells of the ability of the wounded heart.
Challenges with mental illness does not mean that a person is broken and not
whole, it merely means one is experiencing a level of identity which not
everyone knows.
Where
am I now? I’m still in the midst of my depression. Medication and therapy are
helping me to regain a degree of normalcy over my emotional and mental state, I’m
feeling more in control. But there are still days where it’s extremely hard to
get out of bed and do anything “productive.” There are days I feel like a robot
incapable of emotion, and there are days I’m a basket-case of tears or anger. It’s
all part of the ride I guess.
I
don’t know if this has a point beyond naming depression for the sake of
transparency, I don’t know if anyone will find comfort or shared experience in
what I’ve laid out. I know that for some, depression ends only when life ends.
I know for some, medication and therapy are a lifelong necessity. For some,
intentional treatment may be a short-term reality. We all walk our own journey
with life, it’s not a one-size fits-all world. That’s part of the reason
talking about mental health is necessary, we don’t all fit into a cookie cutter
shape for living.
So love each other. If you know someone who is depressed or suicidal, be present for them in any way that you can. Know your own limits in helping, but be available to the degree that you can. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK.
So love each other. If you know someone who is depressed or suicidal, be present for them in any way that you can. Know your own limits in helping, but be available to the degree that you can. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK.
