Three years have passed since I first
penned the following words. Three years. I don’t live in this dark space as
much as often anymore, but I still do the work to keep the darkness at bay.
Every day.
Someone reading this needs to hear these honest words. I know I’m not alone. I know depression threatens the life force of so many in our culture—another weapon of Satan’s to deaden our souls. Yet when cast at the feet of Jesus, He has used it as a tool to soften and sharpen me at the same time. In Jesus’ hands, my struggles with depression have grown me, matured me, and drawn me closer to Him. He is my True Savior in every way.
So read these words with grace and compassion for those you may know who also struggle. For those who battle silently, maybe even yourself…...
I got married soon after and discovered I was equally good at analyzing myself and my husband as I was my schoolteachers and assignments. Living life became a subject to analyze and respond accordingly in order to pass. No wonder when the unexpected adult disappointments in life began to pile up, I was emotionally unprepared to fail. And failure took its toll.
I failed. Often. Over and over again. I became keenly aware and scarred by every failure.
If someone reading this hears one thing in this message, hear me say I desperately want to be rid of the negative, fatalistic, dream-killing attitude I have toward life sometimes. I WANT to be my biggest cheerleader because I’m everyone else’s. I desperately desire for my feelings to match the good actions and choices I choose to make in life. I’ve prayed for relief, for healing from this mind curse. I’ve begged God to increase my faith, so that doubt and second guessing and paranoia wouldn’t cloud my judgement. That my energy wouldn’t be sucked away from inward mind battles--battles spent capturing every thought, all the time, 24/7.
And so far, God has only answered all my prayers with a therapist, some anti-depressants, and now a psychiatrist referral. How did this happen? Why is this happening? Is this who I’ve always been? I don’t think so. In my mind’s eye, I may have been stressed for most of my life, but I was happy. I think I was. Was I? Depression makes you doubt everything about yourself. It skews reality, casting long dark shadows over the brightest memories, and promising nothing but rain clouds on the horizon.
And so, I take the meds, and I make and keep the appointments, but I grieve for the person I use to be so many years ago. I grieve the loss and dampening of her drive and spirit. I grieve because she had a great life and good years surrounded by good people. I grieve because I’ve prayed for her to be returned to me, and my answer is therapists, drugs, and a psychiatrist.
And I’m angry. Angry that this is the answer to my prayers. Angry that the mind God gave me is being given this weight to carry, this thorn in the flesh. We all have our “thing” I’m told, and I’m seething mad that mine is depression.
So, I guess I’ve hopped around all over the stages of grief over this topic for many, many years now. The only stage I’ve never landed in is acceptance. How do I accept that my children will grow up with a depressed mother? How do I accept that my husband may never have the bride of his youth again? He deserves so much better. How do I accept that this disease of the mind will bleed into and taint every relationship I choose to make from here on out in my life? How do I not crawl into a hole and give up? How do I ever regain my energy for life when it’s being spent daily on managing my mind? How do I accept this new reality?
I don’t know.
My favorite devotion, Streams in the Desert, says, “Unbelief continually asks, ‘How can this be possible?’ It is always full of ‘how’s’, yet faith needs only one great answer to even ten thousand ‘how’s’. That answer is--GOD!”
God. Jesus. The Bible.
Such simple answers to all the difficult questions. I used to be ok with these answers. I used to trust them unwaveringly. The core of me still does, but life has taken its toll. Unexplainable, unfathomable tragedies have left their doubts embedded deep in my faith. Oh, me of little faith. “Lord, increase my faith and help me to believe again with the fervor of my youth.” All these realities I confess and lay before the feet of my Jesus. I pray these prayers and hope and look for signs of healing.
Acceptance looks like, maybe, that I’m not supposed to be healed. I will be helped, never alone, never forsaken, never devalued in the sight of my King, but never healed. Oh, me of little faith? I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not this time. I think acceptance looks like being able to admit I have chronic depression and not just resign myself to a life of managing it but choose to commit myself to a life of managing it. Instead of being depression’s hapless victim, I must trust that my God is bigger, claim His victory over my life, and walk like I am more than a conqueror in Christ Jesus my Lord (Romans 8:31-39), gaze shifted high and fixed on the eyes of my Jesus who loves me with an undying, unchangeable, relentless love. He will not fail me though I will fail Him.
My mind may churn and spin, but Jesus is not chaos. He is a Strong Refuge, an Anchor, a Rock, and He is mighty to save (Zephaniah 3:17). He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. (Psalm 23)
My outlook on life may weigh heavy with what is bleak, but Jesus is Light in the darkness (John 1:4-5). He is Hope (1 Peter 1:3-6). His yoke is easy and burden light compared to going it alone without Him (Matthew 11:28-30). When I walk through the valleys of deaths in all forms in this life, His rod and staff comfort and guide me.
My body grows weak from this physical fight, but my Jesus is Strong. He is the embodiment of all Strength. He will give me the gift of Himself to help me bear up under that which is too much for me to bear alone. He will give me the wings of the eagle to soar (Isaiah 40:31).
All these truths I know, but do not feel. That doesn’t make them lies.
Acceptance looks like choosing joy instead of feeling joy. When I figure out what that looks like practically, I’ll let you know.
Acceptance looks like me owning this part of my story and being willing to share it, instead of hiding in the shame of the stigma.
Accepting this new reality is scary and hard, and maybe I won’t. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be better. Yet acceptance knows that is a lie. There is no “better” when it comes to depression, there is managed. The question isn’t, ‘Do I feel better today?’, the question now becomes, ‘Am I managing well today?’
Accepting this new reality means not getting offended when people close to me ask if I’ve been taking my medication. Accountability and support are vital for anyone who is sick.
Acceptance looks like owning this as part of my story, but not letting it define who I am in Christ.”
…… And this is the path I have traveled. Will travel. For three years, I have taken a pill every morning when I put on my deodorant. For three years I’ve check in with a therapist at minimum once a month. I exercise regularly. I watch what I eat. I know my triggers and the signs of an impending crash. I can ask for solitude, and I schedule self-care and sabbath.
But most importantly of all—of all the work, of all the treatments—I spend time with my Jesus. Every day in some way. He is crucial to my mental health. He is the foundation making all the other treatments effective. They are all necessary, but He is essential. Without Him at the foundation of it all, the treatments fail in my own strength. They are not enough because without the source of His power in my life, I am not enough. Anyone trying to convince themselves otherwise is sadly mistaken and foolishly misled.
Today, I don't feel healed from depression, but I am at peace with how the Lord has chosen to help me. He may choose to heal me completely one day because He can, but if He doesn't, His grace is sufficient for today (2 Corinthians 12:9). I'm not angry anymore about popping a pill every day. I'm not ashamed either. Acceptance is still a work in progress. Finding joy and feeling it still a journey, but one I don't walk alone. Never alone (Matthew 28:20).
We are a world surrounded by embattled hearts and minds. Tread lightly. Recognize the rock of judgement heavy in your hand before you throw it. And maybe more importantly for some, remember to give yourself the grace you give to others so well.
How will you tap into the Source of acceptance and ownership of your thorns in the flesh? Your hard things? Today, how will you show grace toward someone who’s trying to reach their point of acceptance and ownership? How can you be Jesus or give Jesus to someone today, even if that someone is yourself?
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