Mar 15, 2015 |
Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
~Exodus 14:13-14 (NIV)
I suffer from depression. This isn’t something I used to talk about. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, because I’m still here. But it’s definitely something misunderstood. And most people are afraid and embarrassed about it, whether it’s happened to them or someone they love.
I’m still here. Which means I’m strong enough to get through that one-more-moment that I needed to get through. But what about the next time? Will I be strong enough then?
Being strong hurts. It hurts not having someone else to lean on, to help pick up the pieces of a fractured heart, or scream happiness with. It hurts to be the one, and not have the one.
Do you ever think about the percentage of creative people who deal with depression and other “disorders”? I believe it’s because we feel things much deeper than average people. Artists of any media are particularly susceptible to opening ourselves up to a life that wounds us to the core. Feeling terrible is better than not feeling at all, and feeling it at such a depth makes the creativity that much more powerful.
When I’m affected by the chasms and peaks of life, I see it more broadly than I can express, except through emotion. I find beauty in hurts and puzzles in rays of sunshine.
I feel more deeply and am more confused by the beauties of this life than I can ever begin to explain. I don’t search for the darkness, but neither am I always afraid of it.
I’ve struggled through some horrendous moments and I’m lucky to be alive. I don’t share the details of my story with a lot of people, because I never know how they’ll react.
There’s a certain vulnerability with letting someone have the keys to your destruction, and trusting them enough to not use it against you.
That’s not my saying. I stole that gem of wisdom from my writing mentor.
In the context of a good book, the characters need to be flawed and need to struggle with each other. In the context of life, it’s a lot more complicated, and a lot more unsettling, and doesn’t always wrap up neatly.
Mostly, life is good and I’m okay. But now and then, something, or a collection of somethings, will trigger that stress in me and try as I might, I can’t always “put on a happy face”.
Depression has its own set of rules that unless you’ve been there, you can’t possibly navigate. Well-meaning people have tried to control or change me. They don’t realize it’s not as simple as that.
I’m not discounting the benefits of avoiding triggers and trying to make things better. But depression is an internal event.
Here are just a few gems from people who haven’t been there:
- “If you just stopped thinking about it, you’d be happier.”
- “Get some rest. Things will be better in the morning.”
- “Have you tried vitamins?”
- “Doctors don’t know everything. You should see someone else.”
- “Medications only make it worse.”
- “You need a change of scenery. Why don’t you get out for the day or take a weekend vacation?”
- And what I find to be the most hurtful: “You just don’t have enough faith.”
There’s also the struggle to identify a cause. Many times, my depression is provoked by something nameless. It’s a constant presence, in the shadowy corners, just waiting to be recognized. It’s its own thing, caused by nothing and solved by nothing else.
The best a person with depression can sometimes hope for is just to breathe through the moment.
I say again, I’m lucky. Through years of hard work, self observance, and a decent group of friends to support me, I’ve learned to identify my triggers and my solutions.
I’ve learned to monitor my body. If I’m not eating healthy enough or sleeping enough, that can make my thoughts a little less clear. Which makes it hard to filter out the negative thoughts.
I know the difference between having a glass of wine with dinner, and going out to a bar so I don’t have to stay home alone. Self-medicating isn’t just about medicines. It can also be food, TV, thought patterns . . . whatever a person uses to feel better.
I’ve learned that the most important thing I can do is reach out. It’s also the hardest. My depression embarrasses me. I’m a typically joyful, outgoing person. I love nothing more than to be surrounded by people whether it’s church, fellow writers, or even my favorite clients from the day job.
I also don’t like to bring other people down. I don’t want to explain myself or disappoint my friends. I don’t want to hear someone’s outside opinion of what I’m doing wrong. So I keep to myself. Or I hide it behind the fake smiles and the hugs and the I’m-Doing-Fine’s.
And I keep hiding. Until it’s bigger than I can handle. Until something’s gotta give.
“Stop forcing a catastrophe where there’s not even a storm.”
I’m lucky to have friends who have known me long enough to realize my triggers before I sometimes do. Friends who can talk me down from the ledge when I didn’t know I’d even stepped out. And I’m lucky those friends were there for me this weekend.
I wasn’t in physical danger, but I was certainly not in a good place. What I thought was just fatigue and anxiety had combined with, as they pointed out, the exorbitant amount of stress from the last few months until I stopped fighting the triggers. I began barking at people with an unfiltered vocabulary. I broke promises. I was ready to fight almost everyone in my path. And I didn’t care.
Depression can garble thoughts. What I think is right in the moment, isn’t. Who I think is against me, isn’t. But I can’t recognize what’s right, or I don’t want to admit the embarrassment of misunderstanding. Even if it’s fleeting. Even if it’s undeserved. Apologizing for being irrational is a painful and humiliating experience. So I don’t.
I just can’t seem to get this life-thing right. So the depression grows. And I keep it to myself.
My depression comes with its own trust issues. It’s hard to know who to talk to, who to tell what to, and who to listen to. Do they really understand me? Do they have my best interests at heart? Or do they want to “help” me to feel superior about themselves? They’ve not been here, they’ve not had these thoughts. How can they possibly understand.
I tried to read my Bible for that whisper of hope and direction. I just heard the words “Be still.” Which I couldn’t do. I mean, I’m depressed, right? Which means I’m anxious. My legs are bouncing while I’m sitting. Or I’m up, pacing the floor. Or sitting on the bench practicing my steady breathing and hoping not to hyperventilate.
If one more person asks how I’m doing then keeps walking instead of waiting for a real answer, I’m gonna lose it.
I didn’t want to lose it. I had to find a way to fight this. I had to find a way to get back to being me. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone because this is different than who I was ten or twenty years ago. They won’t see that. They’ll just see this and think same ol’ same ol’.
And then I found it. Exodus 14:13-14. Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
Just as God led Moses to the Red Sea, He led me to my shore. He parted the stormy waters so that whatever was threatening them in their future vanished, and He promised that what was troubling them in their past would remain in their past. He didn’t promise them a perfect tomorrow. He just promised them a way out for now.
Stop. Take a breath. You asked for my help, and I’m here. Now. In this moment.
And in that moment, with my trusted friends, I was able to securely reach out and know, it’s gonna be okay. They’re not judging me based on past moments. They’re not judging me at all.
They’re just reaching back.
December 8, 2014
My depression is something I will always have to live with. Most of the times, it’s dormant, hidden, controlled. When it isn’t, I have to learn it’s okay to stop fighting myself and others. I don’t always have to keep this a secret.
And I don’t have to be ashamed.
This weekend I realized I have too much to say. I’ve been quiet for too long. It’s time to be authentic and reach out, so others can reach back.
Tonight I feel just a little less lonely. And I think I’m gonna sleep better than I have for a while.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
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It’s Complicated, Part Two: Christianity
Aug 6, 2013 |
The Penny Parable
Just over a month ago, I posted The Penny Parable – Part I. To be honest, I was nervous. This is a Parable that is so very near, dear and personal to me. I’ve told it a hundred times to anyone who would listen, but I wasn’t sure I could do justice writing it out for the Blog. God has a remarkable way of using people to reach others, and I have been blessed with wonderful stories of how this Parable has helped others see the Little Things that God is blessing them with.
A few months ago, I was asked to speak at my friend Patty’s ministry group. She was very instrumental in helping me raise my goal for printing The Unemployment Cookbook, Second Edition. Her daughter, Genny, is the mastermind behind Apron Armor: a ministry for moms. I immediately knew I would present the story behind the Cookbook, and share the Penny Parable. As I knew it.
But was it enough? Could God speak through me enough to push me to the back so that others would see and hear only Him and not me or my Cookbook? Yes. Yes. YES!
As I prayed in preparation of the meeting, the week that led up to it was filled with pennies. And from that week was bourne The Penny Parable – Part II.
Tarnished
I keep a handful of pennies in a small tin in my desk at work. When I’m having a particularly difficult day, when the world doesn’t seem nice or pleasant or peaceful, when stress is nearly overwhelming, I pull a penny out and keep it on my desktop.
On those terrible, difficult days, I hold it. Right there between my forefinger and thumb is a tangible, gentle reminder that God sees everything. He knows everything. And even if things don’t go the way I want, even when my people are hurting and I’m helpless for them, even when I want to turn my back on God because His blessings seem to be invisible to the world at large… holding that penny grounds me. That penny tells me He knows I’m here. And it let’s me know He is, too.
Although fully conscious of the penny in my hand and what it stood for, why I kept it, I was unaware of another message God was calling into my heart. While I was dealing with a particularly difficult work situation, I found myself rubbing the penny. Soon enough, the situation was resolved. And I was left with a bit of dirt on my hand that had rubbed off from the penny. I washed my hands and returned to my desk to realize the penny was now shiny. Almost new.
John 10:28-29 tells us that not only does Jesus have us safely in His grip, but our Father (Abba-Daddy) God is also holding us. That’s a double dose of spiritual strength right there!
Imagine how valuable we, as invaluable as a single penny, must truly be if both the Father and the Son are holding us so very tightly.
Now, imagine the care and concern God must have for us as He rubs off the dirt and grime, taking it unto Himself and away from us. The Bible is full of passages of the Lord cleansing us from ourselves and the world around us. Our failings, our sins, our humanness is removed and, by His rubbing, we are brought back to the Glory He created us to be. Once the world’s deposits are removed from us, we can shine! We are made new!
Sometimes it’s a gentle, affection touch to let us know He’s there. Sometimes it’s a harder scrubbing, a lesson learned and a discipline deserved. But always, always, always it is with the Love of a Savior!
There may be scars He can’t remove. Nicks and spots that will remain with you, a part of your very being. That doesn’t alter your contribution to His pocket or His penny jar.
My Penny Jar
He will continue to collect you. He will continue to spiff you up and take the damages upon Himself. He will add you to His collection, and show you, You Are Not Alone.
We’re all part of something bigger. You are a foundational contribution to God’s household. Whether you believe it or not. When you think your worth is nonexistent. When you wonder what it’s all about. Without your penny, He’s short of a dollar. Without your shine, the world is dull. Without your scars, there are no lessons to learn. And without you to hold, His hands are empty.
You. Are. Important.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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The Penny Parable – Part I
My Housing Project: Back to the Beginning
Dear God, I Owe You An Apology (Quit Helping Me!)
Jun 25, 2013 |
The Penny Parable
Anyone who knows me knows I have an affinity for pennies. As a child, finding one made the world amazing. Lucky. Blessed. Finding a penny was like opening a door to adventure. I would look around for the unexpected second, and very rare third penny laying about. Finding just one made any kind of day miraculous.
I’ve kept that magic with me. To this day, I still revel in the joy of those small and simple copper coins, but for other, deeper reasons.
As a person who continues to struggle with making ends meet on a regular basis, I take to heart the phrase “counting my pennies”. I make conscious decisions on where my resources go. When any situation arises that seems overwhelming, I learned a long time ago that when I can’t, God can.
I admittedly lose bits of my faith at times. I wonder how I can make my way in this world when it seems so impossible to accomplish the tasks set before me. How will I find enough hours in the day to finish the chores, write the stories, have quality time with Dot? How can I pay the bills when my monthly income is staggeringly less than what I need? How do I stop worrying and just believe? How do I continue trusting in Him? How?
In my darkest moments, in those times of despair and confusion whatever the cause or reason, He unfailingly puts a penny in my path. And I, unfailingly, feel refreshed.
IN GOD WE TRUST.
Most of us still make the effort to pick up that stray coin when we see it. Why?
The penny is the beginning of American currency. It is one cent. It’s no longer useful except to pay taxes and collect in jars. Yet we still reach for it, still hold onto it, still feel like Something Good can come of it. Because One is the beginning of all things.
For me, the penny is a symbol of hope and a future; it’s the beginning of a foundation. It says right there, embossed without the possibility of being erased, “In God We Trust”.
And He cares enough to bring that to my attention. Over and over and over again.
As in the Parable of the Talents [Matthew 25:14-30], I believe God will continue to bless us with bigger blessings as we strive to be faithful with the Little Things he entrusts to us. After all, how can we expect Him to shower us with those once-in-a-lifetime moments when we can’t recognize Him in our daily lives?
Many people are so consumed with the Big Miracles they neglect the Everyday Miracles all around us. Too often I find myself wishing for the winning lottery ticket instead of taking stock of the wealth around me: Dot and I have a roof over our heads, reliable transportation, food to eat. Our family and friends are always blessing us with their company and conversations. We have so much to fill our lives.
It’s when I take stock of these things that I realize how God is already taking care of us.
It’s with faith the size of a mustard seed that mountains are moved [Matthew 17:20]. This doesn’t always mean a sudden shift in the cosmos, or a blatant turn-around of a situation. Having faith takes endurance. It’s a task of longevity.
Let’s face it… if faith were Shake-and-Bake Instant, we wouldn’t have struggles, would we? We could just believe and make it happen.
Unfortunately, the Real World doesn’t work that way. Or maybe it’s fortunate. Without perseverance, we wouldn’t learn hope. And hope can be the biggest miracle of all. Hope leads to possibilities. Hope says, “Yes!” when the world says, “What?!” Hope says, “Let’s try!” and “Try again!” Even when we’d rather give up.
HOPE IS WHAT KEEPS US GOING.
Every foundation begins with one. One plan. One base. One step. And then another.
The penny is not insignificant. It’s a start. Pennies are everywhere.
When I see a single solitary penny in my path, I pick it up. Because it’s a message from God that tells me I’m loved enough to have His attentions. The penny tells me He still cares about me, even when I feel invisible or worthless. The penny tells me, I have a foundation to build upon. And little by little, I’ll make my mark.
And just like that single solitary penny, I am valuable. And I may be only one person. But I can make a difference.
Little by little.
One penny can’t do much. But soon enough, they add up. Enough pennies can buy a loaf of bread. And to one person, one loaf of bread can change the world.
Hyacinth for the Soul.
That one penny reminds me that God is always nearer than I think. He is always taking care of the tiniest details, so I don’t have to. He’s my foundation.
It starts with One. And grows.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Praying for a Miracle I’ve Already Received
EXODUS: Keep On Keepin’ On
Oct 19, 2012 |
[For more posts like this, visit my FAITH Page.]
I love the stories in Exodus. I love how God can take a socially inadequate murderer like Moses and turn him into the rescuer of an entire nation. I love how He never condemns Moses… yes, He gets frustrated with the man, but He never condemns him. There are cause-and-effect, actions and consequences… but no condemnation. Moses doesn’t get to party in the Promised Land, but he does enjoy his Salvation.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Or rather, the Story. You see, my church is reading through the Bible this year. Start to Finish. All 66 books. Pastor Tom calls it Route 66. Kind of a take on the Mother Road that winds its way through our not-so-little town. In the beginning of the year, I wasn’t too good at keeping on track. So as I (try to) do my daily readings, I also try to catch up on one or two of the Missing Days.
I also listen to the Bible online at night. It helps me sleep. It helps me process what I’ve read, and what I’m going to read. As you’ve probably guessed by now, this week I’m concentrating on the Book of Exodus.
Tonight I read Chapters 7 – 9. The start of the Plagues. And this is what I’ve learned:
Moses and Aaron were old. Old. Great-grandparent Old. Really, God? You’re going to save the nation through two old men? Whatever… and not just old men, either. Moses was a murderer! Remember way back in Chapter 2 when Moses killed the Egyptian who was beating an Hebrew? And then he ran away. Poor Moses! Hebrew by birth, adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter. No wonder he couldn’t talk straight!
And then there’s Aaron. The older brother. The one who became lesser. The one who had to speak for God’s chosen one. Do you think that may have caused some sibling rivalry? I’m thinking maybe just a tad.
But don’t worry. It gets better. Because this was a Real Band of Brothers. They joined forces and together approached Pharaoh in the Name of God and asked to be set free to worship God properly. God told them. They asked. Pharaoh refused. You could prob’ly set your sundial by it.
Pharaohs were usually succeeded by their first son through the Queen [Pharaoh’s wife]. If Pharaoh’s first wife didn’t have a son, then the next wife’s son was chosen, and so on. It’s quite possible that the Pharaoh Moses went to confront was known to him through his early upbringing. That alone could be a huge part of the strife. “Hey, you know me, but there’s this God I’m listening to now. And, well, basically, as a ruler, you stink. Lemme go.” I’m just thinkin’…
Here’s what else I learned tonight: God never promised them freedom at the onset. He only instructed them to ask for it, and expected their obedience. He told them from the get-go what Pharaoh’s response would be. And guess what? Yup. It happened. Just.Like.That.
Every time Moses and Aaron performed a “trick” like bringing frogs out of the Nile or turning water into blood, Pharaoh’s sorcerers did the same thing. Now, I’m not a real theologian or anything, but I gotta wonder… how is doubling a curse on your land proving your point? I mean, if God brought gnats into your house, and a sorcerer doubled them, would you be all “Oh, thank you for the gnats, Great Pharaoh!”? Yeah. Me, neither.
But with each test, each Plague, something was happening in Egypt. God was getting their attention. At first, all of Egypt was against the Hebrews. After a few Plagues, even the sorcerers admitted God was greater than their own powers. And by the Seventh Plague (hail storms), the Bible says, “Those officials of Pharaoh who feared the word of the LORD hurried to bring their slaves and their livestock inside.” [Exodus 9:20, NIV.] Even Pharaoh’s own officials recognized the power of God!
Now, my reading for today stops after the Plague of Hail… but not the story. And I know how it ends. Wanna know?
God wins.
Simple, right?! I think so. I find peace in knowing the ending. In knowing that all God required of Moses and Aaron and the rest of the Hebrews was persistent obedience and faith. And in knowing that God kept His word in their lifetime. And more than that, told them ahead of time what to expect.
I think that’s a pretty well thought-out battle plan, don’t you? Of course there’s a few more Plagues to deal with and the whole Red Sea parting. And let’s not forget that even with these great signs and miracles Moses lost his temper. When he struck that rock in frustration, he directed the Hebrews’ attention away from God and onto himself and therefore was not allowed into the Land of Milk and Honey [Numbers 20:12].
How many times do I lose out on earthly blessings because I’m too stubborn and frustrated and afraid? How often has God instructed me just to follow Him and obey, and I embellish? How often do I try to claim the glory and the credit for His good works?
How often do I stop in my tracks, afraid to move on? How often am I worn down with the weight of my world, wondering when my help will arrive?
Take note from Moses and Aaron: You’re never too old. You’re never worthless or unable to be redeemed. You’re never alone. You always have direction.
And always, always, always
Keep On Keepin’ On.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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EXODUS
Jun 6, 2012 |
June is my Exodus. I’m making it so. Months ago during prayer, I felt God telling me to hold on until June. Things will get better in June.
The last year, the last month have been the proverbial one thing after another and now that it’s June, it’s time to put on a new hat and a new attitude… and get outta Dodge!
Change doesn’t have to be dramatic or traumatic. It can come simply by looking in a different direction. Seeing the shadows dance on the wall instead of hiding in the corner. Watching the leaves blow in the breeze instead of counting the ones already fallen to the ground. Making pies out of mud and reclaiming that childhood wonderment when the world wasn’t any larger than the backyard.
But even with change, some things stay the same. Like the love I have for my family. And the love we have from our Head of Household. Even in these very difficult times, God has been with us, loving us, caring for us, comforting us.
And He will continue to Lead us.
EXODUS
[originally written June 14, 1999]
Stay where you are, here with me
Leave the dirt behind
Don’t you know who I am?
I am the God of your Fathers,
I am the God of You.
I know your troubles, I’ve seen your pain
But your destiny is greater
I am bringing you to a better place
Just put your trust in me
I’ve been with you so far, so far
Will I not stay until the end?
I am the God of your Future
I am the God of You.
I am the Wonderful Everything
I send my angels before
Leave behind what is behind
Look on to me ahead
Don’t you know who you are?
I have chosen you, My people
Let me be the God of you.
I want to be the God of you.
I am the God of you.
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And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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