I’ve been seeing a counselor now for years, five to be
exact. At the beginning it was once a week, and then as the tools in my mental
tool belt increased, I was able to drop to once a month. Here’s the thing
though, I am not cured of my depression. It goes into remission. Good habits
and the power of a daily relationship with Jesus Christ keep it in check, but I
live with the ability to be easily triggered. Much like an alcoholic is forever
an alcoholic and makes lifelong choices to stay sober and not drink, a person
who struggles with depression must daily make choices to stay in the light,
choosing joy and peace rather than anxious or sad thoughts.
But I wish my drink of choice were more physical, staring me
in the face with a physical temptation. Instead, my poison is thoughts—trains
of thoughts, tirades of thoughts, spirals of thoughts—into deep, dark places.
Thoughts that run rampant in the background of my subconscious where they do
their damage unseen and unchecked for longer periods of time than I would like.
Let me see if I can explain….
In the summer my teenagers sleep late, I love this because I
like to sleep late. It gives me a chance to really dive into my Bible study or
get an early start on the chores of the day before the house gets loud with
activity. If I get up and spend time in God’s Word, my thoughts are more
ordered, more calm, more centered. So yesterday started off well!
By 11am everyone was up and moving, and we had a plan for an
adventure exploring the Beltline in Atlanta on our bikes. On the drive down, I
reminded my kids they didn’t need to be on their phones in the car, but in my
brain, my thoughts were disappointed:
Why do they want to be on those stupid phones all the
time? They just woke up! They know they’re not allowed to be on them in the
car. I’m terrible at holding them accountable to that rule. That’s my fault.
Now that the kids are off their phones, the silence in the
car overwhelms me.
Why can’t I think of anything to talk to them about? I’m
terrible at conversation. This feels so awkward. They don’t want to talk to me
about anything anyway. But you’re teaching them how to have
conversation. You’re setting the example for them to follow. If they
don’t know how to carry on a conversation in the car, that’s your fault.
We finally find our parking space and start our bike ride.
It’s an overcast, slightly humid day, but I’m grateful the sun isn’t shining,
or we’d be twice as hot. The ride is pretty in spots, full of lush underbrush
overhanging the trail. We pass under bridges covered from head to toe in
graffiti. I’m enjoying myself when it dawns on me:
This isn’t a very good way to interact with my kids.
They’re basically up in front of me by themselves this whole time doing their
own thing. How is this bonding us as a family? How does this open doors to
conversations?
And so, the onslaught of thoughts continues ALL. DAY. In
reflection, I continued to judge and criticize myself and my actions as a
mother the remainder of the day. At lunch I was at a loss for communication
again, by the afternoon we were all so tired from our adventure we came home
and retired to our separate corners on our separate devices. Dinner was good
because when my husband’s around, he’s better at getting us all to talk. He’s a
better communicator. But when he and my son leave to head out of town, and I’m
left alone with my daughter, again, she wants to text friends and watch movies,
and I want to take a bath and watch movies, and so the day ends. All the while,
I’m beating myself up in retrospect about how her and I have nothing in common
to help us connect together. I end the day feeling like a waste of a human
being, incapable of connecting with her own children, and beating myself up for
hiding behind my screen instead of engaging in the life inside my house. I go
to bed drunk on anxious, critical, depressing thoughts.
Jesus. Sweet Jesus.
I wake in the morning in need of lots of water to flush my
system and my time with Jesus to flush my spirit.
It takes energy and commitment to let go of yesterday and
all its failures, so I can try again today. Walk differently today. Make
different choices with my thoughts and actions, but sometimes the day stretches
before you like a barren wasteland of hopeless, unavoidable failures waiting to
happen. I mean, that was what happened yesterday? Logically, it can happen
again today as well.
Jesus! Help!
….
This is the life inside my head. One small peek. I can think
like this on a myriad of topics throughout the day. On the worst days, it feels
like I am being beaten constantly. Those are the days I don’t want to crawl out
of bed because the thoughts can start that early, even in my dreams before I
ever wake up. Those are the days I convince myself the world is better off if I
don’t show my face today. There are plenty of people who do not face this
struggle, who are never aware of their own thoughts, and if they are, their
personalities allow them to “snap out of it” as so many of us are encouraged to
do.
If you were being physically beaten, would you want someone
to walk up to you and tell you to snap out of it? (Just offering some
perspective.) What would you want them to do? Step in. Offer help to block the
attacker. Offer you a safe space. A way out. People who commit suicide are
looking for a way out. They are tired of being beaten. Like most diseases or
conditions, depression exists on a scale of 1-10 or stages like cancer. If you
suffer from stage 4 depression, suicide is one of your treatment options.
That’s the level of mental beating that person has taken.
And much like cancer, you don’t need to experience it to
have compassion for those who suffer. You don’t even need to understand how or
why their brain thinks the way it does, to be able to come alongside and offer
support and a safe space. The stigma surrounding mental illness must end. I am
as passionate about that statement as I am about treatment.
I have Jesus. He is literally my daily Savior. He is my first
line of treatment. (1 Timothy 1:15, Acts 4:10, 1 Timothy 4:10)
I know I need His power and presence in every breath I take
just to be able to take thoughts captive and gain victory over the darkness
(Job 33:4, 2 Corinthians 10:5). The more mature in my faith I grow to be, the
less energy this requires, but I’m not great at it yet. His Word is a lamp unto
my feet and a light unto my path (Psalm 119:105). I literally have His promises
plastered all over my house. I like to think I’ve done that for my kids, but I
read them all, every day, at every turn in my home (Deuteronomy 6:9, 11:20). On
my best days, I’m blasting praise and worship music into the silence of my
home, drowning the sound of my own thoughts with truth. My counselor is right.
The way I think about myself, judge, criticize, evaluate, analyze myself has to
stop. It has to change.
I have Jesus, a supportive husband, Prozac, friends who
gently hold me accountable and encourage along the way, a family who loves me
unconditionally, and insurance that covers mental health 100%. I have
everything a person needs to fight and overcome depression, and it is STILL a
daily battle. The wins outnumber the losses little by little as the Lord
continues to do His work of sanctification through my life, but the losses are
heavy and hard.
Someone you know doesn’t have the same support and
privileges I have been afforded in my fight with depression. Someone you know
doesn’t have any of these supports at all, not even Jesus. It’s why giving this
world Jesus is the most compassionate and life-saving effort a person can
devote their lives to (2 Corinthians 5:20). Jesus is enough. Even without all
the other supports, He would be enough to sustain, to keep me from wanting to
leave this earth because He breathes life into His children (Acts 17:25, Job
34:14-15).
I struggle because as a believer who has been afforded the
privileges of all my supports, I think I should only need Jesus too. I
shouldn’t have to rely on medicine, counseling, etc. But the reality and truth
is… this is the journey God has ordained for me and my life. The woman
struggling with depression in Africa may only be given Jesus at some point in
time, and He will be all she needs, and that’s all she’ll ever be given, and He
will be enough.
He is enough for me too. Period. I know this. There have
been seasons when He was all I had, and He was enough. Yet, He is also the
Father who gives good gifts. Why some are afforded certain good gifts and
others are not is one of the great mysteries of being God. He knows me best;
therefore, He knows what’s best for me.
My Jesus knows humility is essential to real life. He was
the humblest of us all (Philippians 2:5-8). Medicine and counseling keep me
humble. Without it, my pride, my own natural strengths, and my own intellect
power me through my days. Humility is a necessary piece of the puzzle. We
cannot be fully dependent on the Lord if pride is present at all (James 4:10).
It has been my observation of God’s kingdom that all of His
children are given something to humble them—a thorn in the flesh as Paul puts
it (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). For some it is their marriage, their life
circumstances, their health, their finances, their station, their job, their
friendships, their family, their children, their losses—the list is unending as
to what God can use and how He can give the gift of humility to His children.
These are all crosses we bear for the sake of Christ. We take them up and we
follow Him regardless, dying to ourselves every day (Luke 9:23, 14:27). This is
what it means to be a Christian, a child of God—grateful surrender to the cross
that keeps us humble, knowing it’s a good gift from a Good Father who’s saving
us from ourselves. Every day. Our pride is sin, and our sin is death (Romans 6:23). There’s
no other answer to pride, but humility.
So today I will be grateful for the cross I bear. The
depression I battle. I will reframe it with new purpose and lean into my Jesus
and His good gifts—the gift of medicine, the gift of counseling, the gift of
gratefulness, the gift of humility, the gift of His presence, the gift of
salvation. Today He will be enough. That is my choice.
Who do you know struggling with anxiety? Depression? Who
feels overwhelmed by life? You do not have to understand the cross they carry
to be able to cheer them on along their path. Send that encouraging text. Mail
that gift. Don’t be afraid to place a hand on their shoulder. To drop off that
meal. Show up. Be present. Be available. Cover them in the protection of your
prayers. Bend the Father’s ear to their plight with your incessant interceding
on their behalf. Don’t throw your hands up in the air because the enemy has
paralyzed you with lack of understanding or empathy. Seek understanding (Proverbs
2:2-5).
My daughter asked me the other day why I struggle with
depression. I didn’t have a good answer for her because I live a blessed life.
I could only tell her the condemning voices inside my head are loud and
constant, and I need help to silence them. When the condemning voices are
silenced, I hear the Voice of the Spirit clearly Who is the source of my joy,
creativity, sensitivity, empathy, compassion, and purpose. Hearing voices is
both one of my greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses. It’s how God put me
together. It’s my cross to bear. By God’s grace, these condemning voices are
not my daughter’s struggle, but maybe I can teach her how to show love to
someone who struggles differently than her. Maybe teaching that alone to one
more person in this world is a far-reaching ripple in the ocean of eternity.
What I do want her to know is Jesus is my Rock, my Answer,
my Support. Following His lead is my best treatment plan. Healing and wholeness
can only be realized through His power alone.
“Thank You, Father, for the gift of humility that enables me
to fully rely on You. Thank You for the gift of humility that protects me from
my own pride and the death and destruction it causes not just for me, but for
those I love (Proverbs 11:2). Thank You for using the struggles we inevitably
face for our good and Your glory—that no cross we bear is meaningless or
carried alone. Thank You for glimpses of You.”
