I’ve lived and struggled with mental illness for as long as I can remember. It’s the not so fun and not very pretty part of my story.
*Read the first part of this post here.*
For some people, mental illness is temporary. For me, I will probably deal with my mental illnesses for the rest of my life.
You know how people talk about rose-colored glasses when someone is super optimistic? Well, depression is like gray tinted contact lenses that someone has super glued to my eyes. I don’t have the option of taking the glasses off. I can’t even take the contacts out while I’m sleeping because apparently they’re stuck there for life.
Depression and anxiety are part of my DNA (maybe even literally haha).
For many, many years I ignored my {lack of} mental health. I told myself that I had to push through whatever was going on in my mind because other people had more important needs. After all, doesn’t God want us to serve other people? I grew up hearing the JOY acronym- Jesus, others, you. Jesus is most important, then there are the needs of the people around me, and then I can think about myself.
My personality as well played a large part in me ignoring my own needs. In the Enneagram world, I am a Type One. Type Ones are typically known as the Perfectionists. I frequently tell myself that I can’t tell others when I am having a hard day or something is going wrong because I feel like others will be disappointed in me. I believe in grace for other people but not for myself. Innately I believe that I can’t make mistakes or be human, but that other people can be human and I will give them grace for their mistakes.
It wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I was forced to admit to myself that something was wrong. Almost every night when I went to bed I would have a massive panic attack (which I hadn’t identified at this point) for two or three hours before my body would finally give in to sleep. I would wake up exhausted, my body aching from being so tense and my heart still racing. I was frequently oversleeping for morning commitments and never felt rested. At the time, I drank Mountain Dew a few times a week and made a connection that my anxiety would be worse when I had soda, especially with dinner. I cut it out and found a little bit of relief from that but was unwilling to tell anyone about what I was going through.
Fast forward a year. The summer after I graduated from high school I went on a 6-week ministry training trip. It was one of the first experiences that I had spent with so many people my own age, with (sometimes forced) honesty about life. While I wasn’t comfortable sharing much about my own personal experiences, I listened a lot. Through the lives of other people, I saw God working in not only the good parts but also the bad and messy pieces of life.
The friendships that I made during those six weeks carried on to life after the trip. As I grew to trust people more, I started to feel like I could open up about my own issues. The anxiety was too strong to ignore anymore. It consumed my waking hours and affected my sleeping hours, leaving me constantly exhausted. I opened up to a friend, then my parents, and a mentor. I went to therapy for the first time. Therapy showed me that I had more problems than I knew, but that I also deserved to take care of myself and receive help.
***Please hear me say this: therapy is not an instant fix for mental illness, it is a long process. When you start attending therapy it will feel like your life gets worse before it gets better. You will most likely (like me) discover other issues that you haven’t addressed and then you’ll have more on your plate. Please do not give up on therapy after only a session or two. Maybe you just need a therapist that is a better fit, or medication as another tool to help you have more mental space. If you want more info on what therapy is like, or how to find a good therapist for your needs, check out this series of blog posts written by my friend Laura. She is a licensed therapist in CO and writes a blog about wellness.***
The Messy Part of Mental Illness
This isn’t just a simple happily ever after story because nothing in life is that easy.
I was sexually assaulted a few months into this journey. There are few things (if any) that can destroy more trust and who you are than sexual assault. Private pieces of life have been invaded and things that used to be everyday life now trigger flashbacks.
Counseling helped me admit that, in addition to the anxiety that had brought me to treatment, I also lived with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD).
Talk therapy wasn’t enough on its own and after over a year of trying that route I went to a psychiatrist and was put on medication. Make that a trial and error of multiple different meds.
I spent a night in an inpatient unit when things got really dark.
I had a lot of people (friends, mentors, family) who dragged me along the road toward the light when I could barely get up let alone take care of myself.
I irreparably damaged relationships when my mental illnesses consumed my headspace.
Now
Even though there isn’t a neat, happy ending to my story, I’m learning to be okay with that.
In the fall I connected some serious weight loss to the dosage of one of my medications. Talking with my psychiatrist helped get that dosage lowered and another medication added to counteract the weight that I lost. Having an appetite means that I’m eating and eating means that I have more stamina to deal with life.
Three years of therapy gave me lots of tools to combat the nasty lies that depression and anxiety tell me.
I’m trying to be grateful for the people who chose to stay, and for the time that I had with people that moved on. I’m not a fan of the idea that some people are only for a season, but maybe it’s true.
I continue to seek my purpose in all of this and will begin a Doctor of Psychology (PsyD) program in September after moving across the country.
Life isn’t perfect, but I’m grateful for it.
To me, this post feels like a long tangent in a series that’s supposed to be about mental illness and the church, but I hope that there is value in it for someone so I’m going to try and ignore my perfectionist’s brain.
Part three will address some practical ways that the church can engage with mental health and mental illness. Stay tuned!
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