We were not ok

This post will be told from two prospectives. First, I will share about growing up with a parent suffering from depression. Second, my mom will share about the reality of suffering from depression. I think the order matters because it will highlight how much I didn’t know or understand.

As always my hope is that these words will impact someone. Someone that has carried shame, anger, fear, sadness and indescribable pain all while living in isolation. Someone that feels like their depression has to remain a secret. Someone who loves someone with depression. Or, someone who has thought depression is a “choice” or “spiritual issue.”

The journey to get here has been anything but easy or timely. In fact it’s been full of silently suffering and about 20 years in the making. Yet, I am in awe. I’m in awe that the Holy Spirit would choose to diligently work to get us here. That He would pursue us both independently and collectively. And that He would remind us that there is inconceivable power in sharing the mess that we lived in.

I don’t have too many memories of my mom struggling before her diagnosis. I know I was in elementary school. My most vivid memories are from when I was in high school. I remember there being a cycle. Things would be going well and then all of a sudden she would be angry. It seemed that one of us would do something and it would push her over the edge. And then there would be silence. She would close herself off in the bedroom. When she would come out she didn’t speak to anyone. And then after about a week things would fall back into place. And this cycle became our normal. Sometimes it felt like walking on eggshells. Trying not to amplify her anger as it built. Thinking I could somehow prevent it.

I can tell you what we weren’t doing. We were not talking as a family about what was going on, which means I wasn’t really talking about it outside my family. We were in no way equipped. In a way it felt like a shameful secret. If you read my previous post, then you may recall I was diagnosed with anxiety in 7th grade. That was another part of the dynamic. I wasn’t talking to others about my anxiety. And I wasn’t talking to others about my mom’s depression. I am sure it goes without saying, it was a recipe for disaster. I remember my mom no longer went to church. When someone would ask about her our family’s generic response was “she’s not feeling well.” This response was also used when neighbors came to the door or someone called.

Around my 9th grade year was when she made comments about my eating habits and body. Looking back I would say it’s when my emotional eating started. Perhaps because it was the only thing I felt like I could control. At that age my ears heard her comments as things that were wrong with me. I became insecure. And I summed it all up into two beliefs. First, that my body is ugly. And second, that there is something wrong with me. Both thoughts were intertwined. Now she never said either one of those things. That is how my teenage mind translated and condensed it.

It’s also the time I started shutting down and turning inward. I felt like I had to in order to try to navigate her emotions that were ever present. I also believed that saying how I felt did more harm than good. I came to this determination because on what I am sure was many occasions I responded to her comments. I responded like most enjoyable 14 year olds; by yelling and crying. And that certainly wasn't helping anyone. So closing myself off became my coping skill. My mom took me to counseling. However, the counselor made a statement about my mom wanting to know what’s going on with me. I heard that as to mean she would be telling my mom anything we discussed. And at 14 I wasn’t thinking about getting clarification by asking. So I locked it all up. I never shared a thing and eventually the sessions came to an end.

I had one friend that I shared some of what was going on with. On the day of senior prom I remember the cycle starting. I ended up going to get ready at this friend’s home. And when we went to take pictures, I recall having a few moments of crying off to the side with my brother. The next day I returned home to learn my mom was in the hospital due to a suicide attempt. Ironically it also happened to be Mother’s Day. And the fear of that situation reoccurring never really goes away.

Our relationship was tense for many years to follow. I never really dealt with my feelings related to the experiences of having a parent with depression. In fact I lived in anger the majority of my 20s. I essentially ran full speed ahead away from God. I was far too stubborn to let Him touch my most painful wound. My degree is in psychology. And I started working in Child Welfare 7 years ago. The topic of mental health is one that I have heard about more times than I can count. One would think that with all of my education and exposure both personally and professionally, I would have come to a place of healing sooner. However, it wasn’t merely about knowledge. It was about the Holy Spirit breaking apart the lies piece by piece. I had to get to a place where I not only knew but believed the fact that my mom never meant any harm. Her statements were traveling through the filter that was the depth of her despair. I had to remember that with the exception of a few occasions she has been ever present in my life. She still ensured that I had my needs met. And perhaps most importantly of all I had to accept my responsibility in how I chose to react to the situation as an adult. In my profession I have worked with many individuals that suffer some sort of mental illness. I finally became convicted in the fact that I was quick to extend grace and patience to them. However, I was failing to ever offer those two things to my mom. I was choosing to live in my anger. And I strongly held onto the warped belief that I was justified to do so. I sit here now grateful that God would not allow me to continue to do so. In fact, He made it His business to reveal this to me. He is always advocating for my best interests. And in doing so it means He knows what is best for me regardless of whether I see it or not.

No one gets to live life unscathed. We all have had to endure pain. Our society loves to compare. And we often stoop so low as to compare our pain and measure its level of intensity against another’s. In doing so one of two things often happens. We either feel our pain is insignificant and that we should consider our situation to be a “blessing” because someone else has it worse; or, we magnify our pain and believe no one else could possibly imagine what we feel. We ultimately have two choices when it comes to our pain. We can either choose to live in it and eventually watch our entire world start to crumble: or, we can deal with it and go on to use it. Either choice molds us. And believe me when I say that when you finally elect to give it to God, He uses the Holy Spirit to do more than just move you past it. He breaks the bondage of the chains that the enemy loves seeing you in. Yep, that’s right; He wipes that smirk right off of the enemy’s face. I never would have fathomed that God would bring me to such a destination. A destination where my deepest hurt would become my most profound healing. Grateful doesn’t seem like a strong enough word to describe how I feel about my mom. She has taught me how to speak up for myself and others. She has been demonstrating that to me my entire life. And even at 34 years old she wouldn’t think twice about being a fierce momma bear if I needed her to be. She is one of the few people I know that will always give me honest feedback. She tells me what I need to hear not just what I want to hear. She is one of the most thoughtful gift givers I know. She will never stop teaching me. Not simply by words, but by her actions. She encourages me to write vulnerable posts and willingly checks for grammatical errors. And she is tied with my dad as being one of my biggest fans. Despite my sarcasm, eye rolls, wavering patience and track record of stupid decisions, she will proudly claim me as her own. I now choose to see our experience as a bonus. For without it I don’t know if I would have acquired the level of sensitivity and compassion I now have. Of course, that was not accomplished of my own doing. Never the less, I feel better equipped to care for those with mental health conditions.

There are two main reasons that I am writing about my personal experience with major

depression. One, it is my great hope that at least one or many persons will feel less alone,

better understood, and accepted for being much more than this illness. Secondly, my

daughter asked if I would share. And how could I not? She has suffered the devastating

impact on her life that those people closest to you cannot escape. This fact alone will

always grieve me to some extent.

My story is one that I’ve not shared with even a handful of people because of the stigma

and shame that can come with it. It is my belief that it’s past time to stop suffering in

silence. Especially in our Christian communities, where there is a tendency to think that we are immune to such afflictions. Just because mental illness has no distinctive

similarities to a physical illness/injury doesn’t make it any less significant, debilitating or

worthy of proper treatment.

I think it needs to be clarified at the get go that I recognize that all of us can relate to

feeling normal depression associated with a loss or disappointment of some kind, etc.,

which, with time, usually passes and life returns to a certain normal again. The depression I live with is different and has numerous symptoms, such as; a very low self-esteem, loss of interest to do normal activities (including lack of self-care), an excessive fatigue, an inability to concentrate, communicate effectively or rationally, irritability, indecisiveness, an extreme lack of motivation, appetite changes, a strong desire to withdraw/isolate and sleep along with a relentless, deep sadness that can’t be identified to a clear cause. And yes, extreme conflicting emotions and mental anguish that have driven me to the false belief that I am worthless and a great burden to my loved ones, which resulted in my attempt to take my life. If you are a person who believes that depression such as this is a choice and the person can get themselves out of it by just praying harder or getting up and doing something, I ask you to rethink that thought. Who would ever choose to feel this way

or purposely remain in this state of mind if they had such control?

My diagnosis was long in coming and at no time has there ever been a permanent fix. I’ve

struggled well over 30+ years with this illness. Hindsight is 20/20 and several years ago I

recall thinking … I am certain I was a depressed child. I believe my predisposition to major depression is in some way rooted in my chaotic and traumatic childhood. And throughout the years my incapacity to cope properly allowed for many layers of unresolved feelings and situations to grow until I reached a breaking point. I was diagnosed by my family

doctor when simply inquiring why I was feeling so fatigued. I thought it was maybe due to

my under active thyroid, and that I was not getting the proper dose of medication. Wrong…and no one was more shocked than me! My immediate response was, “What?

I’m not depressed.” Again, there was nothing going on in my life to attribute towards what I

believe to be a cause for depression.

I learned early on to mask my condition in public, with coworkers and acquaintances, and

in private among friends and family as I couldn’t adequately talk about the enormous guilt of my feelings and the realization that someone who doesn’t suffer from this illness can’t really understand it. And I can tell you, unequivocally, that the lack of true understanding is the main culprit to intensifying and perpetuating the illness. So, loved ones and friends try to become truly informed first and foremost, and just as important talk about it! The struggle is just as much yours as it is for the one who is depressed. It can be an extremely painful and arduous path trying to navigate and maintain normality in such a dire situation. Again, I will always grieve what my family had to go through. Time and opportunities missed - never to be regained, angry words and actions.

You may be wondering, “Did I think God was punishing me for something; was I involved

in some egregious sin; did I not pray enough, etc.?” And the list goes on and on! As a

believer, I struggled with all of these thoughts and more. It’s been a very difficult path to

reach the place of acceptance that I am not doing nor have I have ever done something to

warrant this illness. That I belong to a loving, merciful and gracious God whose son,

Jesus, I gave my life to at 22 years old.

I want to leave you with the truth that there is treatment available. Don’t go into a shell and

hide like I did for so many years. If you are feeling any of the symptoms I’ve described,

please, please talk to your doctor. The right medication and course of treatment does

make a difference. I said earlier that there is no permanent fix, but that is only in the sense

that medication is not a “one size fits all,” and I have never known my condition to become

normal without the aid of medication. In living with this illness, I have had to undergo many

changes in medications throughout, as I have found some can become ineffective over

time. This is not unlike some medications that you take for physical illnesses. Most of all I

want you to know there is no shame in taking medication for this illness. After all, who

among us would not take a pill to ward off an infection, concerning illness or lifelong

condition?

I thank the Lord for getting me and my family through some very dark, dark times. That we

were able to come to a place where we can talk about it openly and forgivingly with

understanding.

In living with depression, I find great hope in the following verse knowing that if only one

other person can find comfort in my discomfort, may it be to the glory of God! Romans 8:28 “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”

And that in my despair and times when I know not what to pray; “Likewise the Spirit also

helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but

the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.”

Romans 8:26

Our savior doesn’t just do the job once and then move on. He eagerly awaits every moment of every day for us to call on Him. And there are not enough words that would adequately justify how it feels to know that He eagerly awaited to get my mom and me to this exact moment. And that He would allow us the knowledge and power to not go backwards, but instead move forward in freedom. Freedom in knowing that He encourages us to come out of hiding. And that no matter how uncomfortable we feel, He is always faithful when we trust Him.

Psalm 34:18 ESV

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 40:1-3 NIV

I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust him.

Psalm 147:3 ESV

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

John 16:33 ESV

These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.