An Explanation

I wrote “A Story” because it was a chance to look back at my 3-year struggle with depression from a new perspective. I’m realizing that although my brain is naturally susceptible to the disorder, I also allowed the weight of people’s judgments to negatively influence me. I stopped doing things that were vital to me out of fear and misplaced expectations.

  

There are some wonderful changes happening in my life. I’m realizing a little more of my purpose and I really feel that God is laying the foundation for what’s to come. It’s like building a house. The cement that has been mixing and churning is finally being poured into the trenches.

As you can imagine, the view from within the mixing drum has been anything but tranquil. This summer hasn’t been easy, but it’s been powerful and deeply meaningful to me. Two things stand out to me as major catalysts for the changes inside of me.

I’m doing some good work with the Beloved Community Center and the experience there has caused me to really think hard about what I believe and why. I’ll post on that soon, so I won’t go into detail here.

I’ve also been blessed with a beautiful relationship. It’s not new, but until this point it was too tenuous and fresh to even speak about here. Or maybe I was the one that was too fragile. Either way I’m excited to go on this journey. I know now that what we have is real and worth fighting for.

So I wrote “A Story” in part because I want to understand and advocate for others. I believe that starts with understanding and being able to vocalize my own story. This is where I’m at for now. Tomorrow may be a different story :)

A Story - Day 13

There once was a little girl who loved the sun.  During the winter, she would layer on clothing, grab a good book and sit on the concrete well cover outside in the yard.  She did this for years, until she got to high school.  Her friends there started making fun of her, because she looked really silly all bundled up outside in the winter, especially when all she did was sit and read.  “You can do that in the house, like normal people.”  So the girl who was not so little anymore stopped sitting outside.  For the next few years, the not-so-little girl began to suffer, especially during the winter.  She was very sad and listless and eventually began to draw away from her friends, her work, and herself.  One day things were so bad that she decided to get help.  She was diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder and told that things could get better.  Her first line of treatment: sunlight.  The woman (for that’s what she was now) realized that the people who had teased her had nearly taken her life.  She decided that, despite popular opinion on the matter, she would live every day of her life alive.

Confident - Day 10

Once again, so much has happened since I last wrote that I have no idea where to begin.  So I guess I’ll start with an update from my last full post Life – Day 9. I can’t believe that was more than a month ago. I was just starting my medication and scared to death. 

I’m doing so much better now. I adjusted fairly well, only dealing with a few side effects that were pretty light compared to the scary list of them that always come packaged with the medicine. Also, the meds started working in about two weeks, which is nearly half the expected time. I was able to get back on my feet and finish out the academic year stronger than ever. 

And about all those fears? None of them really mattered. 

The biggest fear the whole time was telling my mom. Not that I thought she’d be angry or reject me in any way, she’s the most caring person I know, and she’s always there for me. But I know what she believed about the subject, and I was terrified to disappoint her or make her worry about me. I tried to tell her over the phone at least twice. One time, I even called specifically for that reason. The phone conversation went something like this:

“Hey Mama”

“Hey Baby, how are you?”

“Good.” *silence*

“…is everything okay?”

“Um…yes…”

“…”

“I just called because I wanted to tell you…I love you”

“Aww, well I love you too!” 

“yeah…alright.  Well that’s it. I didn’t really want anything.”

“Okay, well I miss you.”

“Miss you too. Bye.”

I’m sure she knew something was up - we’re usually super chatty and it had been a while since we talked so I’m sure she expected a lot more. But she didn’t question me, and I’m sure she just got off the phone and prayed about it. As soon as I got off the phone I start mentally berating myself. “Seriously? Am I really that ridiculous?” The answer was yes. So instead of telling her directly, I e-mailed the link to this blog and asked her to read it. The next day, she called me. She was a little nervous and reserved, but she was mostly mad - at the psychiatrist. 

“Was he mean to you?! Do you want me to come up there, ‘cause I will!” 

Haha, my mom is so awesome. Especially because she’s like 5’1” and in general not at all a threatening person. She’s fierce though, and would definitely have driven up to my school and had a meeting with him. But I told her that it was okay, and that I needed to hear what he had to say. Then she just waited. And I started talking. I explained to her why I had decided to do it and how I was really feeling better. She listened and was totally supportive. She even said that she was glad I didn’t ask her about it beforehand, because she would have advised me against it. Our relationship grew even stronger, and she has a new perspective on things. Once again, all that worrying for nothing.

My classes were also a major concern, especially the one in which I missed all those days. I’m sure it will show in my final grade, but so far my exams and presentations have been strong. And the class that I thought I was going to fail? My professor allowed me to complete the work I missed for half-credit. I passed by .7 points. Definitely not where I want to be, but totally better than where I could have been. 

I can’t take any of the credit for this. Even the meds, as helpful as they were, weren’t the answer. God’s grace is truly what got me through this time in my life, one of the hardest I’ve ever dealt with. I honestly don’t have the space to write all of the ways in which I’ve been blessed; all the little things that helped me to make it though; all of the friends who had just the right words (or no words at all) that encouraged me to keep going. 

It’s cool to look back at the journal entries I wrote then. I was up, down, and all over the place. But slowly things got better, and I learned that I could be strong in the face of adversity. One entry that really made me smile was on March 19th.

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Thank You God for the life You’ve given me. Thank you for joy, and the energy to move, breathe and smile. Help me to never take those things for granted.

Thank you for the darkness. You are in it and you never let me go. You speak light and life to me constantly, despite my being deaf to it at times. Thank you. I give this day to You, and along with it my heart.

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For this year, I’ve just recently stopped taking the meds. Now that I’ve readjusted to being off of them I feel great! I’m so much better and stronger for the darkness, but I’m moving beyond it into the light. It’s so cool to be able to agree 100% with David when he writes:

“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

-          Psalm 27:13,14

Happy Good Friday everyone!

Life - Day 9

The past few days have been pretty rough. Woke up feeling really heavy and sluggish on Friday morning, and it hasn’t lifted since then.

Friday at 2:00pm. I went to the psychiatrist for the first time. It was incredibly scary for me. I didn’t want to think about it, and I almost didn’t go. They fine you if you no-show though. It’s probably a good thing. It got me there. That and the fact that I woke up feeling incredibly heavy and sluggish. I’m not happy that Friday morning was awful, but it helped me to see that as far as I’ve been able to come, I’m still struggling.

We talked about this semester and what I had been doing. I told him what I’d been doing based on my sessions with my new counselor – exercise, vitamins, journaling, eating better. I told him my fear – that I was afraid to be changed by the medicine. His response was almost harsh “well, you’re not yourself now, are you?”  Maybe it was only harsh because it was true. Either way, he noticed the look on my face and tried again, this time with a little more gentleness. 

He explained that the type of medicine he suggested was not going to affect my personality and that most people had very few ill effects. We talked through the possible side effects and the prospective dosage. After talking for nearly an hour, he finally asked me directly: what do you want to do?

I sat there, thinking of every possible reason to say no. Then I thought of the reasons to say yes. I thought of the six absences in my 9:00 class. I thought of all the late work I’ve turned in. I thought of the difficulty I have focusing and the constant low energy. I realized then that I’ve been surviving this semester, not living it. I don’t want to barely make it through every winter for the rest of my life. I want to thrive and live and give freely to those around me. I can’t do that in a consistent manner now.

Don’t get me wrong, there are bright days, and good moments in even in the dark ones. Each day has contained quiet notes of grace that compose a melody if I just listen. It plays in the big things. Echoes in the little things. A class canceled on a day that I just couldn’t grasp the strength to get there. A friendly classmate who bumps into me on her way to the gym just as I was about to drop the idea of working out that day.  Amazing friends who will cry with me one day and laugh with me the next. Those rare and wonderful individuals who just “get it” and don’t ask for apologies or explanations. I am incredibly fortunate.  

I told him I wanted to try it. He wrote a prescription and handed it to me. I walked out of the office feeling numb. I walked to the pharmacy, had it filled, and left.

Immediately, doubts surfaced.

            Those side effects are going to be awful!

Things might just get worse.

It’s midway through March, why can’t you just handle it for a little bit longer?

What will people say if they find out?

I don’t really know how this will turn out, but I’ve decided to try. I’m definitely still struggling with my fears and doubts. There’s no pretty ribbon wrap up at the end for now. I just have to keep walking.

Stronger - Day 5

Yesterday, I finally worked up the courage to go and get counseling again.

Before that, I was still building from the counsel that I received last year. I followed the plan: journaling more, getting exercise, going outdoors whenever I can, and pushing myself to be around people even when I didn’t want to. I even started taking a multi-vitamin and B supplements (which some researchers say may help). And I believe that the combined effort has been incredibly helpful. I’m doing so much better than last year, when at my lowest point I didn’t get out of bed for nearly three days.

But I’m still struggling. So I went back. 

The counselor who met with me for our consultation asked me a lot about what was going on. For some reason, I always feel really awful for talking about it. I think things like “other people have it much worse than me” and “if you were just strong enough, you’d be able to handle this.” So when I talk about it sometimes I feel like I should lessen the severity or make it seem like it’s not a big deal. I do not think that this is right.

Yes, there are people who struggle in a more profound way, who have been fighting for a long time. Yes, I have many blessings that some people haven’t received. But that doesn’t diminish my battle. I don’t think we should feel that our struggles have to “measure up” in order to be perceived as important. That way of thinking silences us, and keeps us from being transparent with others about what’s going on in our lives. 

Today I was frank and open with the woman I spoke to at the counseling center. It felt scary, but great. I’m learning more and more everyday how freeing it is to be honest. 

We talked about what I was currently doing and my family history. She went over the options which included continued counseling and light therapy. She also mentioned a low dose anti-depressant, because I’ve dealt with Seasonal Affective Disorder before, and have a family history of it and other mental health issues (at least four close relatives with documented diagnoses). 

At first, I immediately refused. I was terrified of the idea. And today I realized why. I have family members that are or were on mood stabilizers and other medications for mental disorders. I’ve seen firsthand how they can change people, and leave them utterly flat or highly volatile. Most of my interactions with them were painful and full of confusion and misunderstanding. Just thinking about it made me cry, and I did, right there in her office. But then she explained to me that most anti-depressants were different and that in my case it would be a very low dose.

So I’m taking a big step: I have an appointment with a psychiatrist. Even just writing that still feels a little nerve-wracking. And although I haven’t made a final decision I’m willing to talk about it now. I realize now that the main reason that I reservations is because I was scared. But fear is never a reason not to do something.

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I want to write something specifically to any readers that are Christian. I’ve realized that many of us have a negative view of mental disorders, depression in particular. Many don’t “believe” in depression, or see it as a bad mood, or selfishness. Some fail to see its complexity and chalk it up to a sinful lifestyle and advise people to repent of their sins (yes, I have been told that before). Others feel as if it is completely spiritual and encourage you to pray and read scripture to beat it. I know people mean well, but I don’t think they realize how having such a narrow view marginalizes and condemns those of us that struggle. 

Now, I am not saying that praying and reading scripture is wrong to do or a waste of time. Certainly not. Please don’t hear that from me. I know that in my own struggle it’s been incredibly encouraging to be reminded of how God loves me, and understand the beauty and worth that He in all of His perfection and power somehow sees in me. 

What I am saying is that often times, we don’t realize that it is not that simple.

I am definitely not an expert, but I know that depression is a complex thing. There is a biological component to it with genetic links, like diabetes or sickle-cell anemia. But rarely do people advise those diagnosed with these illnesses to “pray more” or “confess sin.” Why? I’m really not sure.

I don’t want to tell you what to believe. Whatever your opinions are on medication and mental disorders, I encourage you to learn more about them. What I write is my understanding based on what I’ve read and been through. 

Two sites that really helped me was this pastor’s story of struggling with Major Depression , and a page I stumbled upon simply titled “A Portrait of Ellen.” The first helped me to realize that Christians that struggle aren’t “wrong” or weak, while the second offered practical advice on how to help a struggling friend. 

So be open to learning, and pray for truth in your search. Wrestle with it, and don't be afraid of momentary uncertainty.

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Finally, I want to say that if you are struggling, please get help. Tell somebody you can trust, and seek a professional’s assistance. Many of us that are in college have the opportunity to receive great help for free or at a very low cost. Please don’t lose that opportunity, especially if you are hesitant because you fear what people may think. 

“We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face... we must do that which we think we cannot.
--Eleanor Roosevelt 

It is difficult to look fear and misunderstanding in the face, but I know it is possible.

Feel free to agree, disagree, or leave a thought.

Sunlight - Day 3

I'm slowly learning to be patient with myself and the place that I'm at.

It still baffles me to find that gray skies can plunge me into a place of sadness, low energy, and gloom. It’s a bittersweet thing to know I’m not alone in this. I’ve been working to learn more about what’s going on with me and I’m taking steps to push back against it. I’m so grateful for the thoughts and prayers of friends and family. Still, some days are just rough.

Monday was one of those days this week, and I struggled to get even the most basic things accomplished. After hitting the snooze bottom a record number of times, I finally just burst into tears. I j wanted to scream at myself to get it together. I pushed through the morning, shuffled through the afternoon, and slumped into bed later that night feeling discouraged. I started seriously considering getting a prescription. The thought made me anxious and scared.

Please hear me on this: I do not believe that it is wrong to take medicine for depression or any disorder. If you are struggling, you need to do what will help you get better. I just have a history of adjusting poorly to anything – whether it’s my asthma inhaler or regular over-the-counter pain meds – so I’m trying everything else first.

Tuesday was beautiful and bright, so I spent lunch sitting in a makeshift window seat. I learned that just being in the sunlight can be therapeutic. The rays were so incredibly warm and full –indescribably so. I vaguely wished (again) to be somebody’s cat, so I could sit there all day being adorable and self-satisfied - the way I always view cats as being.  The rest of Tuesday was much better, but I was frustrated still. I hated feeling like I’m on a roller coaster, up one day and down the next.

Wednesday I read the first chapter of the book in the bible called James. In verse 17, James describes God as the “Father of heavenly lights.” For some reason, that description tugged at me, imploring me to explore it. What I found made me smile.

I keep a journal on a regular-ish basis, and much of the time I write directly to God. What I wrote went something like this:

God, I’m so glad You describe Yourself as the Father of lights. It seems to mean “Father of the sun, moon and stars.” James compares You to those beautiful lights, and shows how You are so much more than them in every way. There’s no change in You, no rising or setting, like the sun. Your light is so complete it cannot be eclipsed and so blazingly bright that there are no shadows left. Just like my body and brain craves sunlight to function and experience happiness, I need You to infinitely more to experience truth and deep satisfaction. Thank You for being bigger than the sun. Thank you for being constant when I am not.

God’s…fullness… isn’t changed by my inconsistency. I can rely on him to be my focus and security, even when I’m a mess. Especially then. I feel humbled by his love.