Sideswiped

I wrote this in September, but I wasn’t ready to share it I guess. Today feels appropriate on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Memorial Day:

Eleven years. Our first pregnancy loss was 11 years ago last week. On Labor Day weekend 2007 (You see the wretched coincidence, too, right? Believe it or not, it only just occurred to me.), I checked into the hospital for surgery, my husband protecting me when I was too small to speak up for myself, a pastor friend praying with us before the procedure – like last rites for a tiny soul we won’t meet this side of eternity – and then me looking up at my doctor’s masked face and hoping that it was all as unreal as it felt.

Eleven years ago, I woke up from anesthesia and went home to recover from surgery, and eventually over the last eleven years, I’ve recovered emotionally and spiritually, too. At least I think I have. It’s hard to feel “recovered” when I feel like I do today. I usually feel the weight of the magnitude of our ten loses on that first baby’s due date, which is April 1, so to feel the sudden heaviness of it now was an unwelcome surprise. I can prepare for what I know I’ll feel each April. I couldn’t be ready for this fresh hell. I don’t know what else to label this depth of sadness and grief.

It felt important to write out and to share, even though it hurts, and even though I may short out my laptop if I cry on it any more. I don’t really want to talk to anyone about this moment of pain, but I know I must express it, or it will fester and kill me slowly from the inside. I’ve locked away the grief before, and that’s a miserable way to exist. So I am letting it go. I am letting myself feel the pain so that it can run its course and heal up again. I am not letting myself wallow in it or letting it stop me from living; retreating for a day or two is fine, probably even healthy, but more than that and depression brain will take over. I am at least in a place that’s healthy enough to recognize that what I’m feeling now will pass, and that I know living in a fleeting feeling for too long will put me in an unhealthy place.

I’ve been saying that we have dealt with the pain of loss and grief for ten years, but to realize that it’s now officially over a decade is… hard. I’m a writer – I know there should be more words, better descriptors, something more than hard… But that’s all I’ve got. Right this minute, it makes my brain go numb to think about. It feels like every emotion associated with grief pops up at one time, so my brain shuts down. That’s why it’s taken me almost a week to even mull it over long enough to write down the bones of this current pain. Writing it out, now that I can, gives me a skeleton frame to flesh out as I purge the emotions.

I’m not naïve enough to think that I had finally conquered the grief, so it would just live in it’s little corner of my heart and never come out of its cage. I know it can escape and jump into my consciousness at any moment. I guess I just felt like I knew when to expect the regular intervals of escape attempts, so being sideswiped when I thought I had my crap together is… hard. I honestly feel pretty broken. What I don’t feel is defeated. I know that feeling the hurt all over again isn’t a sign of weakness. It doesn’t mean I’m losing ground. It only means I’m human.

I’m a human who has experienced horrible loss and pain, just as many of you have. It’s not more horrific than anyone else’s pain, but it is unique to my experience. And my experience of learning how to heal the gaping wounds is what tells me I’m going to be fine in a few days. It may hurt like hell, but I can use the tools I have assembled to cope with this fresh outbreak, and I can grow through it. I can use this reminder that time won’t erase grief to feel deeper empathy for the people around me who are struggling through a new loss or mired in an old wound like me.

This moment is reminding me that my only hope is in Jesus. He is very literally the only true hope I have that I will not only see my lost children in heaven, but that they are safe and loved and cared for in his arms. The are whole and perfect and wonderful, and one day we will praise God together. Their lives, however briefly they physically existed are important to God, and their story matters.

I can express all of this through the artistic skills God has given me, which turns this clump of words here into catharsis, healing, and a way to shine the little light I have on the path for anyone else who needs to find their way through grief and depression. If that is you right now, reach out and grab a lamp; find a foothold, no matter how tiny, and climb up a little. Ask God to send you more light, more air, and go seek it out. Write out your pain to release it. Draw whatever emotions are running under the surface so you can address them. Bring them out into the light and tell them the truth: you are stronger than the pain because God is for you. PILM Graphic

Not Today, Satan

For several weeks, I feel like I am in a slow-motion time warp – everything around me is moving at regular speed, and I am moving through glass, seeing everything flash by while I fight to just get one foot in front of the other. I honestly felt so defeated after fighting with my tiny human about tooth brushing tonight, that I just sat down and cried. Because everything feels like a fight. I’m spinning my wheels in so many places in my life, that the only thing moving me forward right now may be time itself. As in, I have to have the tiny human at school next week, on time, and it’s just a matter of the calendar. That happens on Wednesday whether I’m ready or not. Tomorrow will come because time is moving at regular speed whether I move or not.

I can feel the depression brain whispering that I should just give up because I’m not accomplishing anything I’ve set out to do, and no amount of work is making a dent in the house getting cleaned. No amount of work is going to get me caught up at work or on my writing or on the dozens of projects dawdling in craft purgatory on my dining room table or on getting back in shape or…. The list feels infinite, and I feel incapable and overwhelmed. Depression brains tells me to just sit down and eat, maybe watch some television or go to bed.

I recognize that depression brain is a liar. I’m not stuck, and I’m not incapable of change or progress. Depression brain is literally a voice from hell, and tonight, it felt like Satan himself was whispering to my soul. The difference in tonight and so many other times is that I could see it for it was: a lie designed to stop me. Stop me from what? I’m not sure exactly. I don’t know if it’s pride or just the same clarity of vision that told me tonight’s depression brain was whispering directly from Hell itself, but I feel like it was to try to stop me from writing. I have had a gazillion important things to get done that have taken my focus and time away from writing. The time warp is happening because I am overwhelmed by the things that keep stacking up on me at home and at work. Satan doesn’t want me to move, which must mean that God has something important for me to do, someone important for me to reach. I have no idea what that is or who that will be, but I do know that if I sit down and eat and shut off my brain, I won’t be doing anything except dying slowly and painfully and miserably in the clutches of depression brain.

That won’t be happening tonight because God heard me when I cried out to him and showed me the truth that depression brain is a liar and that I can get up and get moving. It still hurts like hell. I want to quit, and I want to move forward. Right now I want to move forward more, but that doesn’t stop the part of me that wants to quit. No matter how badly I want to ignore depression brain and just get going, it’s still there, and I still have to fight it every day. I want to fight, and I need to fight. I also desperately need to remember that I’m not fighting alone because God is with me, in me, and fighting for me. He has already won the only battle that matters, but this battle is still important to him because I am important to him. Tonight I could see that this particular battle with depression brain was a spiritual one.

If you have read much of anything I’ve published on the blog, you know that I am not often going to speak about spiritual warfare because it sounds a little crazy, and we humans, especially church attending humans, tend to give the devil a little more credit than the devil is due by attributing everything negative to spiritual warfare. I’m also never, ever going to say that depression is a spiritual battle than one can overcome with enough prayer and faith – that is malarkey on a level I can’t express with mere words. God can absolutely heal anyone of any disease, but he most often doesn’t without the use of earthly medical interventions.

If you have depression, you are not suffering with the disease because you weren’t faithful enough. You may or may not be able to pray hard enough to get over your depression, just as someone with cancer probably won’t merely pray and be made healthy. I do believe that illness of every kind exists because the world fell into sin with Adam and Eve, and we will only be made whole and healthy in the presence of God. So very clearly understand that not all of my depression has been this “easy” to fight. God gave me the tools to get to a healthier place through counseling, medicine, and strong relationships, and those are the tools that made it possible for me to see Satan at work on me tonight.

It’s not overstating it to say that he was the voice in my head telling me to just give up. I would be overstating his power if I decided to listen and quit. Once I could see the truth, the decision was mine and Satan’s power was gone, even if I made the wrong choice. I would certainly have been enlarging his influence over my depression brain if I gave up, but I couldn’t have said, “The devil made me do it.” I’ve given up plenty of times. Only recently do I seem to be standing up more quickly more often.

I wish with all my heart that God would take my depression brain completely out; just take it away. Haven’t I dealt with it long enough? This turmoil is so painful, and I don’t make excellent decisions when I’m feeling wounded. I eat too much. I get cranky with the people I love. I stop writing. I stop arting. Sometimes I physically ache. But sometimes I win. I write. I paint. I laugh with the people I love and hug them tight. I exercise and eat normal human portions. I talk to God and listen to him. I’m actually off my antidepressant and not wanting to kick people in the shins all the time.

I know that I will struggle with depression all my life. It’s not because I wasn’t well loved as a child, or because I’m not well loved now, or because some need isn’t being met. None of that is true. I have a chronic mental illness that flares up from time to time but is generally under control now – as long as I keep doing the work to keep me in good mental health. It may at some point in the future require medication again. I can beg God all I want to miraculously take it from me, but I know he won’t. He will provide me with the tools, and he will give me flashes of clarity like he did tonight when I need to see a glimpse of him – to just hold on to the hem of his robe for a moment, as it were. I saw tonight, heard it almost as clearly as if he had spoken the words out loud: my path is to continue to stand up and fight and to keep writing about it.

Years ago I heard him speak the same thing to me in the midst of all of our pregnancy losses, “I can give you what you want now, or you can wait and have exactly what I planned for you.” We have the most amazing tiny human now, and if you’ve ever met her, you know she is something incredible. I don’t know where this path ends exactly, but I trust God to take me to something greater than I could ever have imagined for myself.

If you have depression, how does your depression brain lie to you? Maybe you don’t struggle with depression but you’ve felt like something drags you down, too. What do you struggle with? What things hold you back? How do you recognize that depression brain or whatever is holding you back is lying to you? Do you trust God to fight for you and to lead you to something incredible? If not, what do you think it would take for you to move forward? If you don’t want to comment here but need a friendly pair of eyes to “listen” as you work some of those things out, my inbox is always open at mabbatblog@gmail.com.

Colossians 2 – How the Bible Can Help with Depression

In the Mabbat Facebook group, I’ve been posting a Bible study guide each week, and right now, we’re in Colossians chapter 2. (Here’s the link if you want to check that out: https://www.facebook.com/groups/773975689656609/?ref=bookmarks It’s going up in weekly installments in the Facebook group, and then I’ll post it as an e-book after we’ve completed it in the group – more on that to come next month!) Each week, there are a few notes, and then there’s space on the page for you to do some creative assignments to deepen your study of God’s word. I’ve discovered as I write the Bible study prompts that there are some things I would love to add but don’t really have the room for if I stay focused. So I decided to share those here on the blog.

Oftentimes as I’m reading the Bible, I find ideas that correlate with things I’ve learned in therapy. I don’t know why that surprises me, because I firmly believe that God gave us the Bible as a blueprint for living the best lives we can.

20180716-Colossians 2 on Depression In Colossians 2:2, Paul expresses a desire for the church members to be “knit together by strong ties of love” before he expresses his desire for them “to have complete confidence that they understand God’s mysterious plan.” As a lifelong church member, this felt backwards to me until I spent time thinking through it. Aren’t we supposed to have Jesus first and only? Isn’t he sufficient for all our needs? Yes, but… Our standard church answers leave a lot unexamined. Jesus gives us the tools we need, and he will faithfully meet our needs, but we aren’t absolved from investing a little elbow grease in the process.

Paul wanted the church at Colossae to be bound together in love to provide an environment that fosters learning, trust, and care for one another – an environment that will encourage confidence in the knowledge of God. As I breathed in that verse, I understood that we can’t see Christ’s love unless we are expressing it and receiving it, and that is the primary function of the church – to be a network of Jesus’s love and grace.

How does this fit in with depression coping skills? I’m glad you asked. Strong relationships are key in combatting depression. There are plenty of scientific studies (as well as every therapist I’ve seen) that tell us the more connected we are to other people, the lower our risk of depression and substance abuse. If you have depression, think about your symptoms. Do you find that you pull away from people and, however unintentionally, isolate yourself? Do you drop out of activities with other people that you enjoy? Do you back out of engagements with family and friends?

Paul knew it was vital for the church to have strong, loving relationships to understand the fullness of God’s love, and it’s vital for our daily lives, too. Especially if you battle depression.

So how do you do this when you are in the throes of grief and depression? First, let someone in. Find at least one friend that you can trust, and open the door. Share with them, and listen when they need to share. Then add another friend. Then join a group – maybe go to a class you enjoy and start meeting the class members, or go to your local church and join a small group or Bible study class. Slowly expand your circle and invest in those relationships. In my experience, the more connected I am to my family, to my circle of friends, and to my church, the better I feel and the easier it is to get out of a funk when I fall into one.

20180716-Colossians 2-7 Another verse that grabbed me in Colossians 2 is verse 7. It’s a beautiful image to think about: “Let your roots grow down into him…” It’s also a solid way to build a foundation for faith. First, establish roots, then build, then grow, and then overflow.

That’s not just a solid way to develop faith, but it’s also a solid way to build mental health.

You need roots – some basic skills to recognize depression in your life and some basic skills to combat your symptoms (a treatment and/or maintenance plan). Once you have that, then you can start building up your coping skills and work towards a “new normal” as your symptoms stabilize. Then you will grow stronger, and then you’ll be able to share and help others. The thing about this setup is that you can never neglect any of the stages; they’re all continual and build on each other. As soon as you skip a step (ignore your roots, say), the entire thing (your mental health) comes crashing down.

This may be less dire for episodic depression and acute grief that will pass once the circumstances shift, but if you struggle with depression as an ongoing issue, you know you need to keep your eye on the ball and not ignore the things that keep you healthy. I have recently been able to stop my antidepressant medication, but I can feel it when I let stress build up and skip the things that make me feel sane, like exercise, eating well, writing, and art. When I see my cues – a short temper, complete lack of motivation, and a desire to eat all of the chocolate in the world – I know it’s time to evaluate and get back to basics of self-care. Sometimes, I know it’s time to check in with my therapist.

What does your root structure look like? Do you have a solid foundation of self-care and coping skills? What does your life look like when you are “overflow” stage? If you’re not there, what will it take for you to get on the right track?

*I am not a professional therapist or counselor, so I don’t offer this as a replacement for professional care. If you are dealing with depression, please talk to your doctor and make a plan to begin healing. I believe that Jesus can heal us, but I also know that he gave us tools like doctors and psychologists to help us when we need it. If you are not getting better through prayer and healthy habits, please seek professional help. I hope if nothing else, I hope my example can help remove the stigma that so often shadows mental health issues in our churches. If you don’t know where to start, contact me, and I’ll be happy to help you locate resources in your area.

Today, Depression Hurts. Tomorrow…

What does coping with mild to moderate depression look like in practice? I can only share from my experience of what works. I feel it’s important to put the both the good and the bad days out there, so maybe someone who doesn’t have a solid toolbox of coping tools can learn from my mistakes and my battle-earned wisdom. This is something I wrote a few months ago but wasn’t ready to publish then. It’s how a bad but not-too-bad day feels, and it’s what I do to make it through.

May 3, 2018: Today is a full-on depression day. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to sleep. I desperately need a shower, but that feels impossible to do. Honestly, the whole last week has been some version of this that I have generally been able to overcome. Today, though, is ridiculously hard for some reason. I feel like screaming or crying or flopping on the ground in some sort of catatonic state. But all of those require an initial effort, and today I just can’t.

Maybe today is harder because I didn’t sleep well last night or because my period started, and it feels like my uterus is trying to kill me. Maybe my hormones are out of whack. Maybe pollen is God’s greatest curse on Adam and Eve, and so snot is also trying to kill me. Maybe. There could be a million reasons why, but none of them matter. Because I just can’t.

So how do I get through today in some moderately adult fashion (since throwing tantrums is frowned upon at my age)? I will pray a lot. None of my prayers today will sound very dignified.

This morning I muttered and grumbled because I couldn’t find clean underwear for my child since it seems all her clothes are either dirty and scattered all over her room or in the washer, which I forgot to transfer into the dryer and must wash again. And then I said, “God, you could just find me a pair of underwear,” as I searched through a pile of unfolded clean clothes all belonging to me. Behold, a pair of tiny human underwear was in the midst of the pile. I will hope today that God answers all my obnoxious demands so perfectly to my liking, but the reality is, he will get me through it, pretty or not; how prettily will mostly depend on my attitude.

Besides praying undignified, muttered, short and snappy prayers, how will I cope with today? Mostly I will just keep talking to myself and reminding myself to breathe in. Breathe out. Take the next step, whatever it is.

One minute at a time isn’t so huge, so I can walk to the bathroom and start the shower. I can wash my hair and cry where I won’t scare the dogs or tiny human, and then I can get out and do the next thing. I won’t think about the whole day or my to-do list or what’s coming up this weekend. I will gently tell myself that I did something great by bathing, and I will tell myself that I can do more great things today, like brush my teeth. Even though I desperately want to eat my weight in ice cream or peanut butter or chocolate, I will eat good food in moderation, and I will celebrate by telling myself, “we can do this; we can make it through the day.” And even though I feel like kicking people in the shins and sticking my tongue out at them while I run away, I will smile instead, and I will hold my feet still, and I will celebrate by reminding myself that on a normal day my smile is my secret weapon. I can coax a smile out of the grumpiest of folks if I look them in the eye and smile – it’s my best and favorite superpower.

Everyone has some superpower, and a sparkling-eyed smile is mine (procrastination is also one).

But I’m not a nice and friendly person when I feel this depressed. Generally, I shut down and avoid all contact, but when I don’t, I am sharp-tongued and angry. It’s not pretty. I actually take pleasure in the mean things I think – and sometimes let slip – and then I feel awful for being a jerk. More self-loathing to add to the heap of horrible I already feel. And even though I know it’s fleeting – this will pass in a few days – it feels like I will feel like this forever. I almost edited that last sentence because I overused the word “feel,” but then I realized that’s the key to my self-talk coping.

I speak truth to my feelings.

It turns out, feelings can lie. My depression feelings are depraved liars because they tell me I’m worthless. They tell me it doesn’t matter what I do because no one cares. They tell me it’s okay to skip my life and wallow in self-loathing and self-pity. None of that is true, and in my heart I know that I am a creation of God; I have intrinsic value as his child. I am a worthy daughter of the King. I have to tell myself the truth over and over, and even when my feelings make it impossible to believe, I can still act on the truth. Once I make that first move into the light of truth, I start to feel better. Each act builds on that momentum until I realize that I made it to lunch without falling into my pit of despair. Then I made it to dinner and through the tiny human’s bedtime, and then it’s my bedtime, and I made it.

Tomorrow may be just as hard, but I can tell the truth tomorrow, too.

What truth do your feelings need to hear right now? Listen in your soul, and hear the voice of God tell you this: you are precious and valuable. You are loved. You are worthy of love. Today may be hard, but the load will get lighter the more you listen to his truth, the more his truth lives in you and fills you up. Jesus is waiting to carry the load for you if you’ll let him. There is an army of people surviving depression who are cheering for you and love you and want nothing more than to lift you up. My door is always open. Join me in the Mabbat FB group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/773975689656609/?ref=bookmarks or e-mail me at mabbatblog@gmail.com if a group feels too scary.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

This wasn’t the topic I had planned to write about today, but I know I can’t shake this without writing it out. This week has been full of loss all around me, and, even though I have known none of the people who died personally, I find myself grieving nonetheless. Several of my friends lost fathers. Two famous creators died of suicide. I feel the weight of grief in my communities, both locally and online, and it is heavy on my soul right now. The bell is tolling for me.

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Web Size Two of my friends who lost their fathers are Christ followers who are comforted by the fact that they will see their fathers soon enough in heaven with Jesus. They are embarking on a new chapter in their stories without main characters who played vital roles in their lives up to now. No doubt the new chapters will continue to tell their fathers’ stories in the legacies that they left in these two beautiful souls. That may eventually be some earthly comfort after the shock and pain fade a bit.

The world’s loss of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain in a week’s time is certainly tragic, as are some of the public’s reactions in the comments sections of the news articles reporting their deaths. I am by no means a mental health expert, but I am a person who is surviving the mental illness of depression. Some people are quick to point out that suicide is a selfish act, leaving devastated loved ones in its wake. While that may be accurate from a mentally healthy perspective, healthy, rational people do not commit suicide. Sick people do. Others have pointed out that both Spade and Bourdain had much to live for with successful careers and wealth. Depression is not a disease that discriminates between rich and poor, successful and not. You may be more prone to depression if your circumstances are difficult, but you are not exempt because your circumstances are better.

Depression that isn’t a passing reaction to loss or life upheavals is just as much a chemical, physical illness as cancer or diabetes. Depression isn’t simply a mental state one can just snap out of. Maybe it’s hard to think of as a disease because we can’t physically see its effects like we can with cancer. It’s easy to assume someone is lazy or unmotivated or has anger management issues or drinks too much without seeing the underlying disease because the sick person appears physically whole. We also use the same word to name episodic depression and chronic depression, major depression and mild depression. We don’t do this with diseases like cancer that have specific names for specific types of cancer, even though they all float under the header of “cancer.”

Someone can tell you that they had melanoma or breast cancer, but they can’t tell you they had liver or kidney depression; they can’t even narrow it to a physical place in the brain, even though major and chronic depression physically and chemically alter your brain.

The symptoms of depression are generally not physical and are not often recognized as depression. Some of the symptoms even appear to be character flaws rather than signs of a disease: sadness, anger, sleeping too much, isolation, overeating, not eating at all, drinking too much, misusing prescription drugs, lack of motivation… One at a time, these problems may be a character flaw that can be corrected, but more than one symptom or symptoms that linger for more than a few weeks may be a serious mental health issue.

My opinion is that because so many symptoms of depression are seen as character flaws individually, the stigma surrounding depression is rooted in the belief that one could just start forming new habits and counteract the bad stuff.

We tend to think the same thing about alcoholics and drug users: “Just stop drinking. That’ll fix it.” Except it won’t. Behavior modifications and the development of healthy coping skills will help depression symptoms, but it may not be enough to keep the disease in check. You may need medication – I did – or therapy – I do that, too – or maybe you need inpatient care for a while. Never feel ashamed for seeking help. If you are depressed, tell someone. At least tell a friend if seeking medical help feels impossible. There is no shame in seeking to treat a medical condition, which is exactly what depression is. We would never tell someone with cancer to just get up and exercise and eat healthier and expect them to be okay. We wouldn’t tell someone with diabetes to skip the insulin and eat all the sugar they want because their disease is all in their head. We wouldn’t tell someone with scoliosis to stand up straight and get over it.

We don’t vilify people who die of cancer: we talk about them in warrior terms. “He fought to the end, but it was too advanced.” Why are we willing to vilify people who die of depression? We are fighting for our lives, too.

Of course, suicide isn’t a solution, and it’s selfish, and it’s probably more painful for the surviving loved ones who will face some hard questions and issues in their grief. But depression lies. It tells you that you don’t matter – that nothing matters – and suicidal depression is more insidious in its lies because it tells you that the world will be better off without you, and you will be better off dead. We don’t blame someone with a physical disease when their body is ravaged, but we will not hesitate to comment when someone’s mind is ravaged enough to quit fighting the disease. Do you see the problem with the general public’s thinking here?

So how do we shift our culture? How do we combat depression as a public health issue? Honestly, I don’t know how to do that systemically. I do know how to begin locally: be kind, be present.

God created us as social beings; we were made for connection to each other. We can’t screen for depression and suicidal thoughts like we can for colon cancer and high blood pressure, but we can maintain connections with other people. If you’d like to prevent depression and suicide as issues in your own mental health, plug in somewhere. Find a group of people you can relate to and start relating. Find at least one person that you can share anything with and not fear judgment.

If you already have those connections, good job. You have one more job, though – go out and make connections and be a friend for those who are struggling to connect. How can you recognize someone struggling to connect? You probably can’t. You should just assume everyone is in need of a friend. That’s the gig if you want to be a decent human.

Once you start connecting well, you should start to recognize when someone you know is acting differently. It doesn’t always mean mental instability, but it might be the only visible sign of trouble. We humans don’t like to admit our weaknesses to each other. I am in no way saying that you are responsible for preventing suicide in your network of connections and that you should be on constant alert for tiny shifts in behavior among your loved ones. Just as someone with cancer must be responsible for adhering to a treatment program, someone with depression must be responsible for getting treatment and following their prescribed protocols.

But we are all responsible to each other as the body of Christ to care for our wounded and ill. We are called to support each other if we are to thrive. Suicide is preventable, and we can all do our part to lift one another up.

Here are some general resources for more information about suicide prevention:

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/suicide-prevention/index.shtml

https://themighty.com/suicide-prevention-resources/

https://www.mentalhealth.va.gov/suicide_prevention/

http://www.sprc.org/resources-programs