Once upon a time, oh maybe about 17 years ago, I was in the midst of a profound depression. This time of deep sadness and melancholy had never surfaced in my life before.
I was acutely aware that I was not functioning well; meaning I could no longer fake that things were OK, that I was OK.
I took a leave of absence from my work-because I could hardly work without breaking down- and set out to get help.
During my intense counseling (did I mention that it was 3 times a week for 6 weeks, and then twice a week for 4 weeks and then weekly for months?) my wise therapist gave me 4 things I needed to do daily and one thing I had to do weekly.
The weekly "thing" was the easiest to figure out. I was to go somewhere I liked every week. Meaning: "Hello beach at Santa Cruz!" This was highly therapeutic. I could not recommend anything more.
My daily list was a challenge at first.
I had to 1) make time for God everyday. 2) exercise daily. 3) find a hobby to do daily. 4) do something I enjoyed daily.
So this hiatus from my normal life happened in the springtime.
That year I had the MOST amazing flowers I had ever had. I nurtured my front and back yard with great care. I had revelations of how we grow as people as I watched these small plants blossom and then produce gorgeous flowers. I diligently watered and weeded and clipped back extra growth and became proud of the best garden I ever had.
From my father, I had gained a lifelong love of books. Reading became the one thing I did everyday. I read romance novels, historical fiction, biographies and some self help books. Reading has always been an enormous way for me to escape into a land I might never consider and learn things that would increase my knowledge.
Having time with God everyday was not too hard to accomplish. Only because I knew how much I needed Him. That no one could understand me like the LORD. And even though I didn't "feel" Him much of the time, I knew He was with me.
It was the exercise routine that was at first baffling. I had a membership to a gym, but truthfully that was the last place I wanted to be because I knew too many people there. I didn't want to answer their questions of how was I, or why I was not working today. As I thought about what I needed to do, I realized that there was a wonderful park not far from my daughter's middle school that I could walk in. And it served dual purpose: I had to drive the carpool, why not volunteer to drive in the mornings and get my exercise as well.
First of all, I had just "heard" of Quicksilver. I had never actually hiked it.
This park is an amazing trail of paths up and down the side of a mountain.
Maybe from this picture you can see how you climb up the mountain. It looks easy enough. Oh how looks are deceiving!
I would begin the hike and soon I would be huffing away and thinking, "when am I getting to the top? how much farther can it be?". But then I would look up and see that I had a long way to go.
Often, I would think, I will never make this. And then to my surprise, there would be a level spot where as you kept walking, you could catch your breath and get ready for the next areas to climb. To get to the top, there was 3 different level areas where one can get a break to encourage yourself that you could make it.
Eventually, I would make it and this is what I would behold:
An absolutely stunning un-obstructed view of San Jose.
I would stand for a few moments and take in the beauty of the moment. And then I would make the descent down.
As I reminisced about this hike yesterday with one of my future daughter-in-laws, I was reminded of how often hiking this trail was like my life. Especially at this time of my deep depression.
I was on road that seemed un-ending, without any possibility of reprieve. I didn't see a way to escape the hardness of what I was going thru.
Then all of a sudden, on the flat parts, I could catch my breath. Kind of like my life; I would have moments of laughter and normalcy and feel a bit like myself again. Without notice, the sadness and despondancy would come upon me again, and the road ahead was daunting. How would I make it?
Isn't that like life? Something happens and completely side-swipes us. We have no idea how we will go on. At times, we feel like we don't want to go on. There seems to be "no way out".
We have to plug along-when we don't want to at all.
We are given no alternative. Whatever has happened cannot be erased. We didn't choose this. Whether it be a bout with mental illness like I had, or a life-threatening disease, or we lose our jobs, or even lose our way, or we lose someone who we dearly love.
We are not given the choice in this, it has just happened and somehow, someway, we need to figure out how to navigate through this our new life.
Eventually, we figure it out.
We figure out how to live through this, even tho we never wanted to. We have moments of happiness, moments of fun. And then we wonder why or feel guilty that we feel like living again.
When my mother died, I cried everyday for four and a half months. One day I didn't cry, and I actually felt guilty-like I had quit missing her. Which I never had, but something allowed me to smile and see that life does go on.
It was like that with the situation that caused my depression.
The situation that had brought it about had not changed. Maybe I was tired of having my life hijacked by this deep sadness, but one day, I decided it was time to go back to work; time to start enjoying some things.
It was at the beach one day, that I realized again how much I loved the ocean. The vastness of it, the beauty of it. The sun was shining, I felt relaxed and realized that I had the choice to make to keep going on. It was a bit like seeing the beauty of the entire city of San Jose from the top of Quicksilver. Although the trip down the side of the mountain ( or maybe more likely steep hills) was so much easier that the ascent, there were some rough patches that I had to be careful with. But the experience of actually completing the hike everyday, made me realize that I did have tenacity to endure hard things.
Some people jog or run this trail everyday. I had challenges just walking it. That too, is like life. Some people coast easily thru the trials and challenges that they are dealt, while others have a hard time just getting out of bed to face a new day.
That does not make one person better than the other.
It just shows that we each have different capacities in how we cope.
My hope and earnest prayer is that no matter what, no matter how long it takes, that we each choose to endure and eventually see the beauty of life again.
Sometimes, our hearts just hurt. Its just how we were made. When we hear something or read something, we stop and know that we have been touched by someone else's pain, or maybe its our own pain.
This past weekend my heart ached for Rick and Kay Warren as I read of their son Matt's suicide. They know more than anyone how he suffered for years and years of depression and how as parents they did everything they possibly could to support him, get him treatment and be with him. Sometimes, even when we try to do everything right, it just doesn't work out.
Matt suffered from depression. The problem is that we think depression is not really an illness-that its a mental problem. Depression is both: an illness that produces some physical symptoms, but its also a disease that affects how our brain works at times.
As I ached for the Warren's and how they were hurting and grieving the loss of their precious son, I got mad at how some people spoke up on twitter about his death. Mind you, I don't "tweet" and hopefully I never will. But these tweets were reported on the Yahoo news site.
People, who don't know the Warren's, who don't know their son and what he was going thru, supposed that he was gay and that this was his dad's fault for being so outspoken against gay marriage. Excuse my language, but how the hell do they know? Why would you say something like that? Because you don't like Rick Warren's beliefs? Because you are intimately acquainted with the Warren family? What gives us the right to criticize, comment and pre-suppose what has happened in the midst of this family's worst nightmare?
My heart aches for those suffering from any mental illness. And that's what it is: a mental "illness". There are literally millions in this country alone (not even beginning to know world numbers) that suffer from depression, anxiety, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Bi-polar disorder, Multiple personalities, addiction, paranoia and many other diseases that affect our mental faculties. They need as much help as our friends and family that get Stage 4 cancer, who struggle with lupus or RA, who have diabetes or high cholesterol, or a hyper or hypo active thyroid and all the other illnesses that can affect our physical bodies.
I believe we need to take up the cause of mental illness and allow the people who suffer from these often debilitating diseases to not feel ostracized, to not fight the stigma that they are "crazy" everyday. I hope that we as a country and the mental health advocates really fight for us, fight for those suffering. As we read the news of school shootings, every single individual who has brought weapons to a school and used them to kill, have been identified with some sort of mental illness. Were their families fighting for them? Were they able to get them the help they needed? Did they have a support system that could encourage them, pray for them, stand by them in the ugliness of what they endure??
And what about our Veterans? Those young men and women who have returned from fighting in war who have nightmares and post traumatic stress disorder? Did they bring this on themselves? NO, it came as a result of the brutalizing trauma they were part of. They need our help desperately and we are not doing enough to get them the help they need.
I am not afraid to admit, that I have suffered from depression. That my family has had its share of mental illness; that we have needed professional help to make it through, that i know what its like to have someone I love so dearly not want to live. I have watched helplessly when thoughts that make no sense whatsoever to me, pervade almost non-stop in someone I care deeply about To know that the best thing you can do for someone is to help them get the help they need; that we don't need to be ashamed anymore.
If I had diabetes, and needed insulin, I would take it so that my body could process sugars. If I suffered from a mental illness and there was medicine to help me, why would I deny myself the chance to feel better?
As a committed, but still very much learning, follower of Jesus, I am convinced that when sin entered the world, that sickness and death came into play; mental illness, along with physical illness, would play havoc on God's precious children. Maybe I am naive, but I truly believe that all mental illness comes from God's enemy-that he uses that to draw us away from the ONE who loves us so dearly. Often a physical illness will drive a person closer and closer to God-reaching out when they never believed before, wanting to know that there was more to this life than what meets the eye, trying to figure out if there really is an after life and eternity. A physical illness, especially one that can limit our mortality, makes us contemplate if their really is a GOD.
Too often tho, mental illness takes us away from God. It should be no different. Unfortunately, how society has reacted, has made us believe that mental illness affects the crazies; that they brought it on themselves. Just as physical illness and death were never part of God's original plan, neither was mental illness. Sin has brought all this upon us.
God does not want us to suffer alone. He may not choose to heal us, either from our physical or mental maladies, but He promises that He will never leave us or forsake us; He promises that He will be with us always; in the good , the bad and the most traumatic times in our lives. He knows and hasn't forgotten us. That He is our anchor, firm and secure. Even when we feel our life is totally out of control and we don't know how we can even breathe or carry on, He is there-whether we feel Him or not. His Words are completely trustworthy. Even and especially in life's worst moments and tragedies.
I pray that Rick and Kay Warren know this. I am almost 100% positive that they do. My prayer today is that anyone who reads this would begin to re-think how they view mental illness, and to realize that it just affects our bodies in a different way than a physical illness-but that it is an illness.
