Psalm 10

Today's psalm reminds me so much of the book When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Rabbi Harold S. Kushner. I'll be honest that I haven't read the book, but I remember some years ago that a friend recommended it to me when I was struggling with depression and wondering why I had to suffer when there were so many others around me who were doing all the wrong things who didn't suffer.

I don't believe for a minute that I'm a good person. I'm a sinner. I'm a big, fat, grievous sinner who hurts God's heart on a daily basis. I do my best to avoid sin, but sometimes it finds me even if I'm not looking for it. Anyhow, I am far from "good" but I am trying to be good. Actually, my aim is to be perfect as the Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48). That said, I understand why my friend recommended this book. I imagine that the author probably quotes this psalm or perhaps another like it. Look at this passage:

Their ways prosper at all times; Your judgments are on high, out of their sight; as for their foes, they scoff at them. They think in their heart, "We shall not be moved; throughout all generations we shall not meet adversity." (verses 5-6)

The psalmist is talking here about the wicked. He's accusing God of being so far away that the wicked are not able to hear His judgments upon them and his proof is that the wicked are prospering in everything they do. He goes on to talk about how they persecute and prey upon the poor, curse their enemies and the like and that they have confidence that nothing ill will befall them.

How many times have you met people like this?

To be honest, there is a particular presidential candidate at the moment who seems to fit this bill. Despite all his ravings, outrageous comments, and behaviour that would earn most people a ticket to the hospital in a straight jacket -- he seems to continue to gain momentum and support like wildfire.  I confess that I am dumbfounded at times as to how on earth any sane person could possibly think he is a viable candidate for the office of President of the United States. While I'm not alone in my bewilderment over this, the sheer amount of support he seems to be garnering is frightening and makes me very scared for what could happen if he eventually wins in November. There have been times when I've wondered where God is in all of this. A couple of years ago, I would have likely thought God totally absent and deaf due to my own anger at Him, but thankfully, I've moved past that. These days I am able to say, "Lord, I can't see Your plan, but I trust in You."

The psalmist -- after he's vented his spleen about how awful things are and how the wicked prosper and while those who follow God suffer -- seems to come to the same place where I'm at these days:

But You do see! Indeed You note trouble and grief, that You may take it into Your hands; the helpless commit themselves to You; You have been the helper of the orphan. (verse 14).........O Lord, You will hear the desire of the meek; You will strengthen their heart, You will incline Your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more. (verses 17-18)

And that's what it really boils down to in the end. Even if we can't see His plan, He really does see. He really is fighting for those who trust in Him. He really does have a plan and He is working that plan despite our inability to see it. When bad things happen to good people, the most fruitful thing we can do is trust in Him.

It's hard, I know. I've been there, done that, got half a dozen or more t-shirts. It's not your first inclination either. It may not be your second or third or two hundred and thirty third and that's okay. It's okay to be angry and tell Him. It's okay to struggle and wonder where He is in the midst of your darkest hour when He appears to be silent and nowhere to be seen. It's okay to be angry that you're struggling and trying to have faith and it seems like no matter what you do, nothing is changing or getting better. All of these things are a-okay.

Here's the challenge though -- stay the course. When you're struggling and you want to give up on God, keep putting one foot in front of the other. That sounds like stupid and ridiculously simple advice, but the image is powerful. It's something my big brother Chez said to me nearly three years ago. We were having a conversation about how hard everything was and how mad I was at God and how I wanted to just give up altogether and leave this life. After much back and forth, I told him I knew suicide wasn't the answer but I just didn't know how to go on anymore. His advice to me was to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

After that, every time I struggled, those words and the image they evoke would come into my mind. As with most advice, it's easier said than done, but holding onto that image of just staying the course helped me hold onto sanity and reality many times. I continue to keep doing this because it's only by persevering little by little, breathing in and out, moving forward into the next moment, and staying focused on using my energy to put the foot that is behind to the front that I will ever get where I want to go.

This is especially true of faith. So put your trust in Him and when you can't see His plan or how to move forward in faith, continue to do the routine things you already do -- go to Mass or church services, pray, read scripture, engage in fellowship with your faith community -- so that you stay on the path and stay moving toward Him. Your feelings may tell You that He is far away or that You have wandered far from Him but remember, feelings are not always a good barometer of what is reality and what is a lie. You may feel far away, but He is always there and if you're making a conscious effort to at least do something to persevere in faith, He will reward your efforts in His own perfect time.

You may think I'm full of hot air, but I've been there. I've been there for a long time. In some ways, I'm still struggling with my faith and I definitely still struggle with putting my trust firmly in Him. Be encouraged that if you are struggling violently, you are not alone. The wicked may seem to be winning and God may be nowhere you can see Him, but He is with you -- and so am I. I'm praying for you, whoever you may be. If you need a friend to pray with you or encourage you, email me. Just click the link on the sidebar.

Until next time...

Pax Christi!

Suicide Prevention Week - How You Can Help

Today's the day! It's both World Suicide Prevention Day and National Suicide Prevention Day (USA).

One of my favourite charities that works to #StopSuicide is the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. They are so dedicated to working toward their goal of reducing the number of suicides nationwide by 20% by the year 2025. I was so honoured to work with them by participating in one of their two national Overnight Walks this past summer in Boston. Not only was the walk an amazing experience, but my fundraising efforts were added to all the rest to total just over $3 million raised. That money will go to the various programs AFSP has which:

• help educate teachers, school administrators, students, businesses, and other professionals about suicide prevention and how to identify and help those in their schools and workplaces who may be at risk
• help those who have survived the loss of a loved one to suicide with grief support that is tailored to that specific kind of loss
• help local, state, and national government lawmakers create laws which will help raise awareness, educate others, and better enable those who need help to get it
• help raise awareness about suicide prevention through community programs, public service announcements, social media campaigns, billboards and the Field Advocacy program
• and help schools and other large organizations identify individuals who are at risk and help connect them with mental health services

I highly encourage you to consider getting involved with this organization in some way. Suicide is 100% preventable, but no one person can accomplish that feat. I may be wrong, but given that 41, 149 people died by suicide in America in 2013, I'd wager that the vast majority of Americans have been touched, in at least some small way, by suicide.

But being touched by it isn't enough. We need to use that sadness and grief to spur us into action to prevent other deaths. 41,149 deaths by suicide is 41,149 too many.

So what can you do?

1. Share your story of how suicide has touched your life. If it's a personal struggle, it may be very hard to share it, but know that by being courageous, you may just save a life. 
2. If you've already shared your story, keep sharing it. Once is great, but sharing it again and again reaches more people and that's the point of awareness -- to reach as many people as possible with the message.
3. Learn the warning signs of suicide. Check out this great graphic:
   
   Notice that first warning sign -- talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself. The others are very important, but if you hear someone talking about wanting to die, then STOP and PAY ATTENTION. Anyone who exhibits that warning sign should be taken very seriously. 
4. Educate yourself about mental illness. At least 90% (if not more) of people who end their own lives were struggling with a mental illness of some kind. It may have been diagnosed, but often it is something that hasn't been diagnosed for one reason or another. All mental illness carries with it some risk for suicide, but Major Depressive Disorder (aka Depression), Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) are the most common among people who have killed themselves. Learn the symptoms and signs of these illnesses and use that information to help those around you who are struggling. Encourage friends and family to seek out a professional evaluation if you or they suspect they may have a mental illness. A proper diagnosis is CRITICAL to getting proper treatment and going it alone because you're afraid may make things worse.
5. Get involved. Even if you can't do a community or Out of the Darkness walk with the AFSP or raise a lot of money, you can still make a difference. If you have access to a computer, you can #BeTheVoice for those who are struggling and need help by getting the word out via social media. You can do what I do and blog about suicide prevention and mental illness. You can reach out via phone, letters, and emails to your local and state governments and your national representatives and senators. You can write and call local television and radio stations on behalf of someone who is raising money. You can help organize a community walk fundraiser. You can make a commitment to pray every day for those who struggle and those who help them. There's LOTS to do.

I'll close this National Suicide Prevention Day with a special prayer to God, asking for the intercession of my patron saint, St. Dymphna. She is the patroness of mental illness and mental healthcare workers and is someone I've asked to pray for me many, many times. Feel free to pray along with me (the following is from a prayer card I have, hence the odd mention of "nervous disease"):

+ O merciful God, you have willed that St. Dymphna should be invoked as the patroness of nervous and mental disease. Grant that, through the prayer of this youthful martyr of purity, those who suffer from nervous and mental illness may be helped and consoled. I recommend to You in particular those who are struggling with suicidal thoughts that You would send loving hands and hearts to help them out of the darkness of hopelessness and despair and into the light of a new day. Grant them skilled and compassionate mental healthcare workers, a strong network of support, and the strength to persevere to the natural end of their lives. Through Christ, Our Lord. Amen. +

Five Minute Friday: Alone

This is my contribution, done in however many minutes it actually takes me, to the Five Minute Friday community. I don't do it by the rules, but if you want to, go check it out at Kate Motaung's blog, Heading Home. Just click the link at the top for Five Minute Friday to find out what it's all about. This week's prompt is....

ALONE

I am a naturally gregarious person and thrive when surrounded by friends and family that I love. I even thrive, to a lesser extent, when I'm in new situations with new people. I love getting to know people. I wouldn't say that I'm "the life of the party" but I would say that I definitely know how to mix and mingle in the crowd.

Given those aspects of my personality, you might think that I never feel alone, but I have and I do.

I know I talk about it a lot, but one of the things that makes depression feel so bad sometimes is that quite often, you feel alone in going through it. Obviously, this is the disease lying to you, but it is such a crafty and convincing liar, that you wind up believing it and that can be very bad. If depression can convince you that you are alone and no one else is struggling with it, then it makes it all the easier for depression's malicious twin to settle in whose name is despair.

Everyone feels alone sometimes, but when you feel desperately alone, it can cloud your judgment to the point that your ability to make good decisions is impaired. This is especially true of depression and feeling alone. People who feel that level of desperate loneliness while depressed often wind up wondering why they bother fighting the disease at all and those thoughts may lead to thoughts of suicide or a suicide attempt. People who survive a suicide attempt or a near-attempt quite often express the feelings that led up to that moment as hopeless, despondent, and alone. Hopeless and despondent are hard enough, but combine loneliness on top of it and it's a recipe for a very bad situation. 

While I have felt alone at many times in my life, I've never felt so alone as I did on July 10, 2013. Because I felt so utterly alone, I made a decision that irrevocably changed the course of my fight with depression and my life in the process. It was such an intense feeling of being absolutely and totally alone and with no one who was willing to hear me, see me, or believe me that I simply gave up. I gave into the pressure of a very bad situation and allowed myself to be bullied into something I never wanted to do. The end result was that when it was over, I was so much worse off than I would have been had I felt some kind of support and presence of another person who had my back.

I have looked back on that day many times and asked myself what I could have done differently. There are things I've come up with, but the reality is that I was all alone and, in addition, was very emotionally weak and vulnerable. The reality is that being alone and vulnerable made me collapse when I would have normally stood strong, fold when I would have fought, and allow myself to be manipulated by a big corporate machine when, under any other circumstances, I would have told them where to stick it and walked out. The loneliness of that moment led to me making the worst decision of my life and having to live with the consequences of that decision even some two years later.

Being alone has its positives too. I am largely quite an extrovert. That means that I tend to feel energized when around others. That is true in some respects, but I have a suspicion that my extrovertedness falls very close to the line between extrovert and introvert, because I also feel renewed in energy when I spend some time alone. This is particularly true if I have been spending a lot of time around a lot of people or a lot of time with people who, for lack of a better way to put it, drain me emotionally. When I get away from those situations, I feel a sense of relief and need some time alone or just hanging out with Gray or my bestie Sif to recharge my batteries. A true introvert would probably need to be totally alone, but I'm alone enough with one or two people in a relatively quiet environment. One place that I enjoy being totally alone is in the shower. It's nice to just relax under the hot water and I find that I do some of my best thinking as I'm shampooing my hair and washing the sweat and dirt off the rest of me.

Lately, I've really enjoyed alone time with Jesus. When I go to visit Fr. B for spiritual direction, he almost always hears my confession and then for my penance tells me to spend some time in the church before Jesus in the tabernacle. The first time I did it, I figured I'd spend 10-15 minutes and then leave. I wound up being there an hour and a half. I was amazed as I had no idea that I'd been there that long talking with Jesus and allowing Him to speak to my heart. I prayed and sang and cried and prayed and cried some more. I spent a good long time prostrate on my face crying amidst my prayers.

An hour and a half later as I was leaving I felt like I had left a huge weight there with Him. Even my body felt lighter. I also wound up having one of the most restful, peaceful naps that I've had in ages which was something that I dearly needed as I'd been up most of the previous week or two with nightmares every night and horrible insomnia. Thereafter, every time I go for confession with Fr. B, I spend a good hour at least, if not more, alone with Jesus. I think it might be healing something. I don't know. I would like to think it's helping some.

This way of doing Five Minute Friday is all new to me and I think I like it. I think it is going to work much better for me -- even if I wind up doing it this way, my way, all alone.

Five Minute Friday: Free

 Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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Maybe you're tired of me talking about it, but that's okay. I'm good with that. It's my experience and my passion and something I think more people need to talk about. Of course, I'm talking about mental illness and mental health. For this Five Minute Friday, I want to talk about something that is related and something that REALLY needs talking about. I'm going to try to do it in 5 minutes.

Self-injury.

Yeah, it's a kind of scary thing to say aloud. I'll be honest. It's not the easiest thing to talk about with regard to my own experience. So why talk about it today, with this prompt?

Because I'm free of it.


It's something that plagued me on and off from about late middle school through my early 30s. Then I went through an intensive outpatient mental health program and using the education I gleaned from that, the coping skills I learned, and the help of my therapist Pendragon (who helped me uncover the reasons why I did it), I broke free of the stranglehold this habit had on my life.

This August will make six years of freedom from self-injury. And I'm pretty stinking proud of that.

One thing freedom from self-injury isn't: easy. It takes incredible effort and it takes vigilance. Freedom also isn't being free from thoughts and temptations to self-injure. The freedom is in resisting those thoughts and temptations. Every time you resist, you get a little bit stronger. I've had some fierce temptations. I've come very close to losing the fight with those thoughts a few times, especially in the early days.

Eventually though, I got to a place where one year became two and then three and at some point, I realised that when I'm tempted, the part of me that has become stronger with resistance says, "It's not worth it to throw all this hard work away and have to start again at square one." And the part of me that's fighting yet another temptation says, "You know? You're right." And the temptation loses and I win another victory.

I am free from self-injury. If you are struggling with it, know that there is hope for you to find freedom too. If you need a friend to encourage you along the way, email me at the link in the sidebar. I promise I'll listen and be there. You can do it! You can be free too!

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Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up at Kate Motaung's blog!

Five Minute Friday: Hope

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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I'll be honest, friends.

I don't have any fancy or uplifting words to say this week on this prompt. You see, hope is not my forte these days. It's just not in my box of things to lift me up and make me praise God. I suppose that makes me seem like a really crappy Christian. Honestly, the fact that hope is kind of in absentia makes me feel like I'm worthless as a Christian. I mean, I'm supposed to put my hope in God. Trust in Him because He is the bringer of hope and the uplifter of the hopeless.

Yeah. Just can't do it.

I can't bring myself to say the word "hope" with any kind of meaning behind it these days. My spirit and heart are wounded. They've been wounded for quite a long time. Actually, they've been wounded for two years to this day.

You see, it was on this exact date -- July 10, 2013, that I lost my hope. I was violently traumatized emotionally and the hope that used to reside deep within my spirit was wrenched away in that moment of trauma and I have been unable to find it again.

And believe me, I've tried. I have tried to find that hope.

I have looked for it in scripture, in prayer, in worship, and in the healing graces of the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick (which is for spiritual healing primarily and then physical/emotional healing comes as a secondary benefit) and the other sacraments. What have I found?

Nothing.
Nada.
Zip.

And worst of all -- absolute silence from God.

Because of this, I went a long time where I wouldn't even use the word hope in its more secular sense of something wished for -- aka "I'm hoping for a chocolate cake for my birthday" -- because even that left a sour taste on my tongue. I didn't want to hope for anything because hope could be stolen and destroyed and all without any warning.

I have since resumed using it in its secular sense, but still don't really use it in the spiritual sense. I also don't use it when speaking of my illness because every time I have said that I feel a sense of hope that I'm getting better, I wind up about five steps backward from where I thought I was with my recovery.

I mentioned this prompt on Facebook in small group of women who encourage one another and my comment was: "This week's prompt is HOPE. *facepalm*" One of the ladies in the group who was trying to encourage me said that despite everything that I'm going through that I am "living hope" and that all the things I do to get through each day and deal with this illness are "rooted in hope."

I appreciate the thought, but I think what I'm really doing is living obedience.

A very long time ago, when I was just a little girl of 6 years old, I gave my heart to God. I made a commitment to follow Him with my life. I didn't know what that commitment would entail at age 6, but as I got older, I began to understand that a big part of it was obedience to God's will for me. At first, I thought it was just obedience in things like who to hang out with, who to date, obeying my parents, going to church, etc. As I matured though, I came to realise that it was more than just those sort of big things, but the day to day little things too. At some point in my early adulthood, I realised that He wants my obedience in EVERYTHING.

Living obedience is not always easy in good times, but when life hits us with unexpected stresses, it can be very very hard. So how do you live obedience when you have no hope, feel abandoned by God and feel totally broken and crushed in mind, body, and spirit?

You do as my spiritual director, Fr.B, told me today. Take it one day at a time. When you cannot make yourself remain obedient, you lean on those around you who are faithful to Him to help you. You put one foot in front of the other. You breathe in and breathe out and somehow, you get to another day. 

And I'm not gonna lie. You cry a lot. Seriously, a LOT. You scream at God and beat your fists upon His feet. You cry some more. You consider often just turning your back on God altogether. More crying. You vent your spleen to someone who will listen -- be they friend, family, priest, or therapist. And you cry some more. The crying happens nearly daily when you're in this hopeless place where obedience is the anchor you are clinging to by a thread.

It sucks. It sucks a lot because when you're in this place, it feels as though you will never be doing anything but living obedience. No joy. No meaning. Nothing but monotonous obedience. I wish I could tell you that it gets better. That the hope returns and that the joy is abundant because of the struggle.

But that's not my story.

I'm still living obedience. As I wrestle with myself and my faith amidst all the day to day stresses of married life and motherhood and the overarching noonday demon of depression, I do the little things and big things that He has called me to time and again.

And I cry a lot. But that's okay. Because we have tissues. :) 

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*This was meant to be a 5-minute exercise, but once I FINALLY got started, I had a hard time stopping myself, so I'm more than a little bit over. Just pretend it was 5 minutes, okay? I won't tell if you won't! :)

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up over at Kate Motaung's blog!

The Other Man

Strip courtesy of peanuts.wikia.com.

Two people that I mention on a routine basis on this blog are my husband, Gray and my therapist, Pendragon. I've talked a lot about Gray's support and our story, but I haven't really talked much about Pendragon. I know some people might think it strange to go into much detail about their therapist, but he is an important person in my life and I wanted to share some of my thoughts about him.

In the last 2.5 years, I've seen him so frequently (due to the intensity of this episode of depression) that I have jokingly referred to him as "the other man in my life." Outside of Gray, he knows me better than almost anyone on the planet. It's very rare these days that I pull something out that totally surprises him. I've gotten to know a little bit about him too as he's shared different experiences he's had with similar things to give me a new perspective or encourage me that I'm not alone in something.

More Than Medication

In 2008, I was going through a particularly severe depressive episode, complete with self-injury. It began about 11 months after the birth of our second daughter, AB, but it wasn't until about 4 months later that I finally managed to make an appointment with a psychiatrist at a large psychiatric group near our apartment. I had gone off my antidepressants when I got pregnant with our eldest daughter, M2, but never got back on them postpartum because AB was conceived so soon after M2's birth. Gray suggested I might need meds again, so I made the appointment.

At the appointment with Dr. Alt, I gave him the basic history of my illness and waited for his assessment. He asked some questions about the current episode, looked back over his notes, and finally said in his pronounced German accent, "I am going to give you a prescription, but I think you would benefit from talking to someone."

My heart sank. I wasn't expecting that.

In retrospect, given that I was cutting myself and severely depressed, it was silly to think I could get away with just taking a prescription, but I didn't feel ready to talk about stuff. He continued, "So I'd like to set you up to see someone. Do you prefer a woman or a ma--”

"A man." The answer came flying out of my mouth before he'd even finished his question. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at his notes before addressing me again.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't prefer a woman?"

I shook my head and replied, "No, I wouldn't."

He continued, "The reason I ask is that in my experience, women are usually more comfortable talking to a woman."

I shook my head more firmly. "Not me. I would prefer a man, please."

He bent his head over my patient file, scribbled something down, and looked up again. "Well, in that case, I think I have just the person for you. I think you'll like him. His name is Pendragon." He made another note, then turned to look at something else on his desk. After a few moments consultation, he asked, "would next week be okay for an appointment with him?" I nodded mutely. After a bit of writing, he stood, handed me both a piece of paper bearing my new prescription and a larger one with instructions for the front office to make that appointment with Pendragon and with that, ended the appointment and ushered me out of the office.

The First Appointment

Time has a nasty habit of speeding up when you want it to crawl and the time between my visit with Dr. Alt and my first appointment with Pendragon flew by like a gust of wind. The day arrived and suddenly I found myself sitting in the parking lot, steeling myself to go inside. I finally got myself together, went in and checked in at the front desk. I sat down to wait. It must have been a few minutes, but it seemed like I'd barely sat down when I heard a pleasant sounding male voice call, "Therese?" I looked up and saw a rather tall, very young looking man holding a file folder and looking around. I stood up and we made eye contact. He repeated my name, "Therese?" I nodded quietly. "Hi, I'm Pendragon. It's nice to meet you."

I think I muttered something like "Nice to meet you too" but I can't be totally sure. My heart pounded nervously and I felt like I was barely breathing. He motioned toward the double doors that led back to the individual offices and invited me back. As we walked, I glanced at his face again and was struck by how very young he looked. Is he even old enough to be doing this? How old is he? As these thoughts went through my head, I suddenly realised that he was about six paces ahead of me. Dang, long legs! Hold up! Wow, he's tall!

I don't recall much of that first session. I do remember being surprised that he sat across from me rather than having a desk between us. I also recall that he didn't push me for details or pressure me to tell him anything more than I wanted to tell him. As a result, I didn't mention the self-injury or suicidal thoughts. I wasn't sure how he'd take it. My experience in the past had been very negative with doctors and therapists who just didn't understand self-injury and I'd only ever admitted suicidal thoughts to one other person. I wasn't sure if I could trust him with those darkest of secrets. Despite my reticence in that first session, I did find myself warming to him. He had a kind face, a relaxed approach, and my initial impression was that he wasn't judging me. At the end, we made an appointment for two weeks later. In retrospect, he must have sensed I was in more distress than I was letting on because as I was leaving, he told me that if I needed to talk before that appointment I could call during office hours, leave him a message, and he'd call me back. It was a small thing, but it made me feel a little less alone in my struggle. I decided in that moment that I thought I liked him and that this just might work out.

These Days...

Well, six years later, he still has a baby face (for real y'all, he looks like he's barely out of college), but I have since learned that he is, in fact, older than me by about 4 years. I've also learned more about him which has strengthened my ability to relate to him, be myself, and do the work of trying to recover and make positive changes in my life. These days I don't have to gallop to keep pace with his long legs, since he is now in private practice and the walk from his waiting area to his office door is only about four steps.

Because I trust him implicitly, I also, very rarely, hold anything back. He knows me well enough now though, that he can tell if I am. He still doesn't pressure me to say things I'm not ready to say, although he has perfected the art of helping me find a place where I feel able to say those things. In fact, there have been days when the depression has lain so heavy on me that my tongue was rendered silent and I couldn't bring myself to speak at all, but somehow, bit by bit, Pendragon has managed to help me find my voice and speak many difficult things aloud.

He doesn't judge me -- ever. No matter what kind of insanity falls out of my mouth or how much I sob and use half a box of tissues at one go. He doesn't care that the moment that I come in his office I kick off my sandals, tuck one foot underneath me, and plop down on his comfy sofa with all the grace of a paraplegic hippo. His office is a place where I feel safe and able to truly be my authentic self -- stripped of masks and defenses, totally honest, raw, vulnerable, and exactly who I am with all my good, bad, and in between. I've come in his office exhausted from too little sleep, in need of a shower, wearing clothes that were dirty, half out of my head from not eating for days, and so darkly depressed that I was silent as a tomb and have found deep concern, a lot of patience, and and a determined perseverance to help me find my way to a better place through self-care, coping skills, and changes in my thinking. I never feel like I'm under some kind of judgmental scrutiny.

Despite the lack of feeling scrutinized, Pendragon is keenly observant and is able to glean an awful lot about me and the kind of week I've been having before I've said the first word. I first noticed this two years ago when I had an appointment after one of the most traumatic days of my life. I know therapists are trained to be observant, but I think he is particularly so and it's very helpful as he has used those observations to point things out to me that I wasn't even aware of previous to that moment.

Lest you think that our sessions are all gloom and doom, we do laugh. In fact, there have been several moments where both of us were shaking with laughter. It's a darn good thing too, because the nature of mental illness is that you really need that kind of pressure valve to release tension and help ground you a bit. Pendragon also encourages me in the good things in my life like my marriage, my kids, and most importantly, my faith. He is, like me, a Christian (although not Catholic) and understands the vital role my faith plays in my life and in my mental health. His encouragement of the pursuit of my faith has been especially important as I've struggled mightily over the past 2 years with feeling connected to God and wanting to remain faithful in my walk with Him.

I am immensely grateful to God for bringing Pendragon into my life. To be honest, I do not have adequate words to express my gratitude. I am thankful for his listening ear, outsider perspective, professional expertise, and immeasurable amount of compassion, gentleness, and caring with which he has helped me through many a difficult situation and some of my darkest hours.

And so with that, I will wind this up and say "Thanks be to God for His merciful gift of a compassionate healer who helps me be just pensive enough to fight and slay my dragons."

Update - June 24, 2015

Life has been moving along pretty quickly these days. I haven't been writing a whole lot, but I've been trying to keep up with the Five Minute Friday posts as often as possible (along with joining the #fmfparty on Twitter on Thursday nights!) and post the odd thing as I am inspired. To be perfectly honest, depression has been kicking my tuchus of late. The last week or so has been a bit better, but I've been in trip planning/packing mode so blogging has been lower on my list of priorities.

Trip, you ask? Why yes indeed!

I'm headed to Boston this weekend for the Out of the Darkness Overnight walk which raises funds for suicide prevention (<---- click the highlighted link to donate to my fundraising efforts). It's organized by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention and the funds raised go to support their programs which help educate people about suicide prevention, help those in crisis situations, advocate for better mental health care, and provide support programs for those who have lost a loved one as the result of suicide (those people are often called "suicide survivors" which is not to be confused with people who have survived a suicide attempt). They have a very ambitious, but I believe doable, goal of reducing suicide by 20% by the year 2025. Given that approximately 112 Americans die by suicide every day, that's saving just over 8,000 a year! What a huge difference that would make!

So to help achieve this goal, the AFSP does local walks and national walks. The walk in Boston is one of two national walks this year and will take place this Saturday night. It starts at dusk and you walk a distance of about 16-18 miles through the night and into the dawn of a new day. The journey is a symbolic one in that for those who struggle with suicidal thoughts, often the darkness seems to go on forever, but the reality is that the dawn does come if you hold on long enough. The reality is that the dawn is hope and there is hope for those who are struggling with the kind of intense mental illness that leads one to contemplate or attempt suicide.

For me, this is both a journey of solidarity and also a personal journey. If you've read much of my blog, you'll know that I am no stranger to depression and suicidal thinking. Both have been with me for many years and will likely be with me most of my life. For me, this walk is something I want to do to show support to others who struggle but also as a means of healing for myself. It is my hope -- and it makes me a bit nervous to use that word -- that this experience will help heal some old wounds and some more recent wounds and greatly diminish the struggle with suicidal thoughts that has plagued me so intensely for the last couple of years.

I'm not expecting a miraculous sort of healing to take place, but I know that these kinds of things do have the potential to cause certain things in us to shift, to get us thinking, and perhaps prompt us toward positive change. I know one change it has already wrought in me and that's that I feel a definite pull toward becoming more involved in mental health awareness and advocacy. I'm not sure where that's going to lead, but this walk is a good place to start, I think. During the walk, I am going to take lots of pictures and I'm going to try to blog some of those either during the walk itself or just before I crash post-walk, so be on the lookout for that!

For now, I need to start a load of laundry so that tomorrow I'll be ready to get my bag packed. Please say a prayer for me as I take this journey and pray for Gray too. He's going to be home with our three wild little women for the whole weekend while I do this. I know he's up to the task, but I also know how energetic and sometimes trying they can be.

Pax Christi,
TM

Five Minute Friday: World

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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I look around at the world sometimes and I wonder if me, being just one person, can do anything that truly matters or makes a difference. I'd love to be able to change the world in a positive way, but the world is so big and complicated and there's so much red tape and strife everywhere, that it can be overwhelming to even think about where to get started.

The conclusion I've come to again and again is that in order to change the world, I have to be willing to do my little part. No big change or even little change comes without effort on the part of someone or a group of someones. Even a small thing can, when added to a bunch of other small things, become something that makes a positive change in the life of someone else in the world. And isn't that what its all about? Wanting to make a difference in this world -- whether it's nature conservation, the environment, animal welfare, human welfare, poverty, or whatever -- is about making a change that will benefit someone else's life in a positive way.

So you start small. You take that first step. Sign up for a group or a newsletter. Get involved with a local charity. Do a little bit. But don't stop there. Keep going. Keep getting involved with whatever cause sets your heart on fire.

For me, one of those causes is mental illness education and advocacy. To that end, in just over two weeks time I am going to be in Boston, MA doing a walk to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It's called the Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk and the funds each walker raises help educate others about suicide prevention, help those in crisis, advocate for better mental health care programs, and provide support programs for those who have lost a loved one to suicide. It is a fantastic cause. So far, I have raised the requisite amount, but this particular cause is so dear to me (given my own struggles with depression and suicidal ideation) that I would love to raise a bit more.

Would you consider helping me?

It's very easy to do. Just click on the link below to go to my fundraising page (it's a page set up by the AFSP) and click the bright orange donate button at the top of the page. Absolutely ANY contribution is greatly appreciated. Your donation, along with many others, will help save lives and any life that can be saved from suicide is a definitely a great way to change the world.

My fundraising page

Some of my thoughts on depression and suicide:
10 Things To Know About Depression (this is a two part post - part 1 and part 2)
Understanding More About Suicide

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up at Kate Motaung's blog!

Five Minute Friday: Blue

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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The very blue sky of twilight silhouetting the bare branched oak in our front yard.

Have you ever had a blue day? You know what I  mean. A day when you felt down or sad or just in some kind of a funk? I think we all have.

As you may have noticed, I write a lot about having blue days and that's because so much of what I deal with on a daily basis is depression. But depression isn't a blue day. It can be a blue mood, but depression is much more than that. For me, when my depression gets very very bad, it's much closer to inky black than blue.

The fact is that depression is far more than just a blue day. It is a diagnosis of a particular mental illness. It's much more complex than just feeling down or even feeling hormonal because it's "that time of the month." It's more than just getting angry because someone hurt your feelings. It's more than the heartbroken feeling of having a boyfriend break up with you or a friend be unkind. It's not just feeling a little less hungry or having such a rotten day that you feel like you need a slice of chocolate cake.

Depression is all of these things at once and multiplied by 100 or more. Truthfully, these symptoms are just the short list and 100 is a conservative figure. I've had days where it was so heavy that it felt like it was closer to multiplied by 1000. It's a complex and often puzzlingly arduous disease to deal with and one that I wouldn't wish on the most evil person in the world. It is a fight and a struggle -- sometimes one that is so intense and difficult that it becomes a matter of life and death.

So I say this to say this -- please remember when life gets you down and you're having a blue day that it's not the same thing as feeling depressed or struggling with depression. Please don't say that you are "so depressed" when the reality is that given a few hours' good sleep, a long chat with a good friend, or even a slice of that chocolate cake, you'll find yourself feeling much better. Blue days are blue days and exaggerating them into something they are not diminishes the real struggle of mental illness.

For more information about what depression looks like and how to help and support those you know who are struggling with it, read 10 Things To Know About Depression (part 1 and part 2).

And since today's prompt word is blue....my new pretty blue fingernail polish! Ta da!!!

It's hard to tell in this picture, but it's sparkly too! So much fun in such a tiny bottle!

Join in the Five Minute Friday fun and link up at Kate Motaung's blog!

10 Things To Know About Depression (part 2)

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(This is part two of my post on 10 Things To Know About Depression. Click above for part one.)

6. People struggling with depression who are also suicidal do not always need hospitalisation or a trip to the ER.

A common misconception with regard to suicidal thinking is that the person who is experiencing it is suddenly in need of super intensive intervention like a trip to the ER or being admitted inpatient. True, this is sometimes necessary, but most of the time, what a person struggling with suicidal thoughts needs is someone to listen to them and show that they care. If someone you know tells you that they are struggling with suicidal thoughts, the most beneficial thing you can do for them in most cases is stay with them (or find someone else to stay with them), listen to them and encourage them to keep talking. Let them know how loved, important, and needed they are, and remain with them until such time as these thoughts pass. The thing most people do not understand about actively suicidal thinking is that, for the most part, it encompasses a rather narrow window of time and if you can help a person find their way through that window to the other side, then you give them another day to live and love and fight this illness. 

Of course, there certainly are times when intensive intervention is necessary, but it MUST be done in a way that respects the person's dignity and humanity and doesn't make the situation worse. For more information on how to help someone who is suicidal, please read my post on Understanding More About Suicide.

10 Things To Know About Depression

There is a statistic that I have heard which states that 1 out of every 4 people has struggled with depression at some point in their life. It is a very common mental illness and as such, it is likely that someone in your life has struggled with it or is currently struggling with it. 

With that in mind, here are 10 things to know about depression:

1. Depression is no respecter of persons.

Depression strikes the old, young, rich, poor, fat, thin, those who are alone, those surrounded by loved ones, famous, unknown, every race, every religion (or lack of religion), and people of every conceivable creed. No one, by virtue of his/her status in life is necessarily immune from the possibility that they may suffer with this illness. Certainly, there are particular life situations which make depression less likely, but none are a guarantee.

FMF: Relief

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

Also, my friend Tara's FMF community intro video is at today's prompt page! Go check out her blog, Praying On the Prairie, and the video here! Love you, T!

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Relief

I'll admit that this particular prompt really hits me where I live. I have been yearning for some serious relief from the onslaught of this depressive episode for a good two years. I have had little bits of relief here and there, but nothing lasting and nothing that seems to make a huge difference in things or a huge dent.

A Hand To Hold

This is part of my April prompts series from the blog The Habit of Being. Each of the posts in this series will feature the prompt for that post as the post title. While I may sometimes use the current day's prompt, it is more likely that I will pick and choose as inspiration dictates. If you are interested in following along with the prompts or writing some of your own, here's the link to the page with April's prompts: http://thehabitofbeing.com/writealm/

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The nature of life is that we all sometimes need a hand to hold. 

Five Minute Friday: Plan

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

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I've been planning this for a good year. It's not a wedding or the birth of a child. It's something altogether different. I suppose planning might be stretching it just a little bit. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that I've been discerning it for a year. I finally made my decision in February and I am so glad I did.

You see, I've been planning to take a walk.

It's a walk of 16-18 miles, done all during the night -- a walk through the darkness. In fact, it is called the Out of the Darkness Overnight walk. It's to raise funds for suicide prevention and awareness about this important cause. It's to give a voice to those who are struggling and to those who are grieving. It's to lend support and care to those who need it -- be they suicidal or bereaved over someone they have lost because of suicide. It is for my own healing.

You see, for me, the struggle is real. I've been to the edge. I've been afraid to ask for help. I've been afraid to admit how much I wanted to die. I've been afraid to admit that I was struggling with debilitating depression in the first place. It's not just a reality that i've struggled, but a recent reality -- like in the last two years. Over the course of the last two years I have been to this darkest of places many, many times. Thankfully, I have had the support of family, friends, and my therapist to bring me back to a place where death was not so much, to quote Hamlet, "a consummation devoutly to be wished."

David Tennant as Hamlet -- Go watch the famous soliloquy here. He is amazing.

So many sojourns through such a miry and dark place have left bruises, deep wounds, and even scars on my spirit that will take not only time, but action to heal. For me, part of that action is this walk and there is a part of this walk that I did not plan. When I go up to Boston and put my feet to the pavement in the middle of the night, I will be walking into the dawn of the 2nd anniversary of my own near suicide attempt. When I decided to do this, I knew the date was in June but never realized that it was exactly the same date. I think this was a God plan because there's no way I could have planned it.

Some are not so well supported.
Some are even more afraid than I.
Some who struggle don't know where to turn for help even if they get over their fears.

That is why I am planning to take this walk.

For those who have yet to break their silence. For those who need a helping hand. For me as I journey my own road of recovery.

So my plan is this -- to walk through the night and into the dawn of a new day.
-- to continue to raise funds for my participation in this walk
(please click the previous sentence if you'd like to donate -- any amount is so helpful and so very appreciated!)
-- to do my utmost to get stronger through activities like this walk alongside my therapy and other resources

-- to do my part to help others help themselves.

Join the Five Minute Friday fun and link up your post at Kate Motaung's blog!

Breaking My Silence

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you may have noticed that one of the things I speak about most frequently - outside of the three Fs (faith, family, and fandoms) -- is my struggle with major depressive disorder. I'm sure there are some who read my words about this and wonder why on earth I would be so candid and open. I am certain that some of you who read this blog regularly may even find yourself squirming a little with discomfort when you see the words "depression" or "suicide" cross your screen.

Can I tell you something about that? It's okay. It's totally okay that you feel that way -- for now. 

Eventually, I'd like you and everyone else to get to a place where those words are less disturbing and are instead a cause for you to stop and listen with concern -- not just to my words but to anyone who might need to speak those words aloud.

I'll be honest. I've only just gotten to a place where those words no longer make me cringe and flinch. Even as easy as it's become for me to write about those things, I'll admit that there are still times when it is a little hard to say them out loud and face to face. But I do it anyway.

Why do I keep talking about this? Quite simply, because it's necessary.

Because silence, in the face of mental illness is no longer an option for me.

I have been silent for over 25 years about my struggle and about the role of mental illness in shaping the person I am today. I have been silent about my struggles with depression, PTSD, self-injury, and suicidal thinking. I have been silent out of fear of what others might think of me or how they might treat me if they ever found out. I have hid my secret from friends, neighbours, and close family. I have struggled with being totally honest with my husband, my therapist, and my dear friends who have supported me for fear of being rejected outright or having someone I love and respect give up on me.

Part of this struggle has come from having had some bad experiences with sharing my struggles. I had a therapist who violated my trust, a friend who got angry, a neighbour who immediately laid hands on me (in a charismatic prayer way), family and friends who acted embarrassed that I'd shared with them, and some family who suddenly became possessed by a desire to be overly supportive. On the flip side of this, I've had a therapist (Pendragon) who has supported me and helped me immensely, friends who have listened compassionately and not judged, numerous friends (and family) who have prayed for me when I've asked (and without my asking), and last but not least, my sweet husband Gray who has loved me and supported me without hesitation for as long as I've known him. 

So with such different responses, why continue to speak out and expose myself to possible judgement, betrayal, or anger?

Because silence helps no one.

Silence doesn't help increase awareness or education.
Silence keeps depression and other mental illness in the shadows.
Silence ensures that those who are struggling in the throes of suicidal thinking remain fearful of reaching out for help at a critical moment.
Silence perpetuates the stigmas surrounding mental illness in all its many forms.
Silence is an enemy to my own healing.
Silence begets more silence, more suffering and encourages others to suffer silently.
Silence is, in its own way, an agreement with the stigmas, misunderstandings, and confusion that surround mental illness and suicide.

So I refuse to be silent.

I will continue to speak out. I will speak through my own discomfort at times. I will continue to take risks in speaking to people one on one about my experiences with mental illness and suicide. I will continue to educate, answer questions, and advocate for better care, less stigma and a tomorrow where those who suffer do not feel the need to suffer in silence.

When Gray and I were just getting started in our relationship, he shared one of his favourite sci-fi/fantasy book series with me and in that series of books, I found one of my favourite quotes about sharing our struggles:

For my fellow book nerds, this quote is from Callahan's Crosstime Saloon by Spider Robinson. It is the first of a whole series of books featuring a barman named Mike Callahan and the very unique folks who show up at his bar, Callahan's Place. If you need a fun read and like stuff that is a little different from your average sci-fi/fantasy book, I highly recommend reading this book and its sequels.

Now I'm going to ask something of you.

If you've read this, would you please comment below and then share this post somewhere else online? You can share it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, your own blog, via email, or wherever you like.

I know it's a little scary to think about doing something so vulnerable and open, but let me do the heavy lifting. Just share this post. You don't have to say why. The point is to share it to break the silence.

I believe it is important to keep this idea going. I'd like more people to feel free to share their stories and know that it's okay. I'm here. I'll read your story if you want to share it with me -- here in the comments or via email. I promise I'll reply. Maybe in all this sharing, we'll find a way to lessen the pain of mental illness and increase joy for everyone.

Will you help me?

Spoons

During I did the Write 31 Days blog challenge. The series I wrote dealt with my current journey through the darkness of depression. At the end of the 31 days, I wasn't anywhere close to the end of my story -- partly because I'm still living it, but also because it's such an involved story that I only got as far as last Christmas (2013) in the allotted time. I decided a few days after the challenge finished that I want to keep writing about it. I haven't come back to it yet because I've been writing a new series, but the last couple of days have been rather difficult and it occurred to me that one of the reasons might make a good blog post on this same subject of depression.

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One of the questions that most well-meaning friends and family will ask a person who is depressed is "How are you?" Because I don't usually feel like talking much about it or don't want to get into a long and drawn out conversation about how I'm really doing, I often just say, "I'm okay" or if it's someone I don't mind talking to a little, "I'm tired." Sometimes, both of these are a bit of a fabrication. You might be asking why someone would be less than 100% truthful when a friend or family member is genuinely interested in their well-being? Well, it's usually because I'm either all out of spoons or trying to conserve them.

Day Thirty-one: We've Done the Impossible...

I began this 31 Days series with the idea of telling the story of my journey through depression and maybe helping provide some insight and education along the way, but what happened is that I stumbled.

I knew I would.

It's why I gave my series the title "Stumbling Through." I know myself well enough to know that I stumble a lot. The thing about depression is that it provides so many more opportunities to stumble through life, so when I was searching for an appropriate title, it seemed only fitting. The other thing about stumbling is that sometimes you catch yourself and sometimes you fall. I have, thanks to Gray and Pendragon, caught myself most of the time through this journey, but I have fallen too. I haven't really talked here on my blog about how I have fallen, but suffice to say that I've fallen hard enough that it put me behind schedule and very nearly made me stop altogether.

Day Thirty (part 2): Swingin' and Swayin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

Note: This is a continuation of a 2 part entry. To read part one, please click here. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above.

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Later that day, Balinda and I go fabric shopping at my favourite shop and a couple of others and by the time we are done, it is almost dark. We stop at a local grocery store and pick up provisions for making tacos for dinner, but for me, tacos will have to wait until much, much later. I have plans with Sarah and my other sister in law, Olivia (who is married to Gray's little brother Andrew) to make good on my desire from earlier this summer when I was at the beach. I am going to get a tattoo. I have been thinking about this ever since this summer and the idea just won't leave me alone. I've looked at designs and local shops back home, but haven't done it yet. I know what I want and even have a picture on my phone of it but that's as far as I've gotten until now. Tonight, we are all going to get inked. Both Sarah and Olivia already have tattoos but they are eager to get another one and to come with me for my first one.

Day Twenty-nine: Night of Silence

"Cold are the people/Winter of life/We tremble in shadows/This cold endless night/Frozen in the snow lie roses, sleeping/Flowers that will echo the sunrise/Fire of hope is our only warmth/Weary, its flame will be dying soon." -- from Night of Silence by Daniel Kantor

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Thanksgiving has passed and for the first time in my life, I have not been with any extended family. Because of this, the preparation for Thanksgiving dinner has fallen completely to me. I have never done this before, but have manage to pull it off with a precooked ham, boxed stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, broccoli casserole, store bought rolls, and a homemade pumpkin pie. It takes a lot of planning and a fair amount of effort on the day of, but everything comes out really tasty and is well-received by everyone, even my sometimes unpredictably picky big girls. It is the first time in a long time that I've felt a bit more like myself. Even so, I find that the effort of cooking and baking drains me and I am much more irritable than I have any right to be. 

Day Twenty-eight: Adrenaline

Note: This is a continuation of a 2-part entry and is a continuation of my story. Please click here for part one. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above to access the index page for the series or click here to go straight to Day One.

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The next day I awaken and the dark fog is still there. The emotional anguish is still very present and this despite Gray having stayed home from work to make sure I am safe and his allowing me to sleep in as late as I like. I just don't want to endure this anymore. I fight with this darkness all day long while the big girls are at school and when Gray goes to pick them up from school, it is all I can do to not get in the other car and leave. Instead, I lay in our bed and go back to sleep. Pendragon calls, as promised, a little while after the girls are in from school. I tell him that I am still struggling with suicidal thoughts and urges and I just don't want to do this anymore. We have an appointment the next evening and he asks if I think I will be okay until then. I answer honestly that I don't really know, but maybe. I tell him that I am still struggling with wanting to leave but that I'm fighting it. He asks if I think I need to see him this evening instead of waiting until our appointment. Even though good sense would say, yes, I do need it, I find myself telling him that I will wait. I am not thinking clearly or I would have been more honest with him, but I don't even realise how bad it is.