Category: My Story

Stop Trying So Hard!

St. Francis de Sales, the gentleman saint and ...
Image via Wikipedia

Don’t lose any opportunity, however small, of being gentle toward everyone. Don’t rely on your own efforts to succeed in your various undertakings, but only on God’s help. Then rest in his care of you, confident that he will do what is best for you, provided that you will, for your part, work diligently but gently. I say “gently” because a tense diligence is harmful both to our heart and to our task and is not really diligence, but rather over eagerness and anxiety…I recommend you to God’s mercy. I beg him, through that same mercy, to fill you with his love.

– Francis de Sales

I am not a gentle person. I am warm and generally kind.  I am open to others, making an effort to set them at ease.  My introversion and social anxiety make it so that this is hard work for me, but I do it out of principle.  And hardheadedness.  I want to know people, so I am damn sure I’m not going to let my flat-sides get in the way.

But my gut response to the world is usually to critique it.  It is all too easy and habitual to jump to conclusions and prejudge.  I am the opposite of temperate.  And I often become grouchy and grumbling about whatever displeases me —  from the coffee in a restaurant, to a reporter’s poor grammar, to the design on a book cover or the style in which a book is written.  Whether lyrics are theological or food is spiced correctly or a shop is ambient, you name it, I’ve got an opinion.  [Unless I don’t care and then I’ve got nothing.  Can’t be bothered… but digress.]

I would like to nurture gentleness in myself, however that is done. Even with my children, whom I absolutely adore, I know I can come across harshly.  That is why I love more-than-anything-in-the-world just to hold them.  To settle into a deep, long snuggle because  no words are necessary then.  And I fear that with my words, too quickly, I become evaluative and, oh dear, too soon, my love must feel conditional to them.

I am very diligent. I pride myself in being a hard worker which I learned from my father.  He taught me that a person never sits idle while being paid to work.  He caught me reading a book, as a teen, while I was working in his office.  I had run out of things to do. That was the day that my work ethic started, after a long talk from him.  Ask for more, I learned that day.  Idleness in a job, well that’s plain wrong.  And one must always carry out the tasks at hand.  I have learned that I love to work hard and if it makes me sweat all the better!  I am grateful to have that work ethic from him.

And yet, when it comes to being diligent, I am tense in my diligence, which de Sales claims is “over eagerness and anxiety.”  Um, yep.  That is so me — mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically, wow do I need God’s mercy and to loose my hands on the vice grip that I hold on my life.  It isn’t pleasant or the kind of diligence required of us.

“I recommend to you God’s mercy.

I beg him, through that same mercy,

to fill you with his love.”

I am just thinking and going nowhere with these thoughts.  Except I that perhaps they were worth writing down.

Once our eyes are open, we can’t pretend we don’t know what to do. God, who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls, knows that we know, and holds us responsible to act. –Proverbs 24:12

Be well, friends.

Melody

Francis de Sales lived August 21, 1567 – December 28, 1622.  He was Bishop of Geneva and is a Roman Catholic saint. He worked to convert Protestants back to Catholicism, and was an accomplished preacher. He is known also for his writings on the topic of spiritual direction and spiritual formation, particularly Introduction to the Devout Life.

There’s no cute title for writing about Clinical Depression.

And isolation breeds isolation which creates the stigma and discrimination we need to eliminate. The brain is an organ — just like the heart, liver and kidneys — and we need to encourage everyone to treat it as such from both a medical and social perspective.

Joe Pantoliano, Founder of “No Kidding, Me Too.”

If are new to my blog, I have clinical depression.  The first time I experienced the REAL, genuine, gut-wrenching, debilitating, life altering, horrible, sink hole depression started in the Spring or early Summer of 2002.

Each person has a birthright of joy to reclaim. — Foust

What I didn’t know.

When I fell into my worst (and first) case of clinical depression eight years ago, neither Tom or I knew a thing about real depression.  What I mean by real is not that there is “fake’ but clinical depression is different than mood swings or melancholy.   I have since studied and I could give you an ear full on the topic. But I won’t.  This is some of what I have learned over the last eight years.

One of the most impressive things I learned over the years is that you have to fight it. And it’s a fight lemme tell you, at certain points for your own life.  Sometimes it’s fight someone who loves you takes on as well.  You have to want something better.  That’s difficult when you are so depressed that you can’t sleep, eat, talk, move, and lost all pleasure for life — but if you have received  professional help to get out of that place, THEN you have to fight AGAINST the next time.

I have worked hard for the emotional, physical, and spiritual healing that I’ve achieved.  All the while I am confident that this is going to be a lifelong struggle.  I have a propensity toward it, this illness that involves the mind, body and the soul.

That is not true of everyone.  Some lucky people only have situational depression where a life event like a divorce, illness, death, birth of a baby, job loss, or other tragedy occurs and we become depressed in response to it but you don’t have regular episodes for the rest of your life.

Depression affects how you feel.  It changes your thinking in crazy ways.  And it causes you to behave in a way quite unlike yourself.   These can be a clue for a friend or partner that something isn’t right.  If not dealt with it can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems.  And eventually, in scary cases, you may come to feel as if life isn’t worth living.  You most definitely lose sight of the belief that you have a right to joy.

  • Major Depressive Disorder is the leading cause of disability in the U.S. for ages 15-44.
  • Major depressive disorder affects about 14.8 million American adults, or about 6.7 percent of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year.
  • While major depressive disorder can develop at any age, the median age at onset is 32.
  • Major depressive disorder is more prevalent in women than in men.

(Stats from Mayo Clinic website)

I will never forget a relative** (changed to protect the ignorant) calling when she heard about my depression, saying,

“I’m sorry that you feel so sad.”

My heart sank.  Depression is not sadness or the blues or even a bad mood.

The Stigma of Getting Help. Let others help you.

Contrary to what many people believe, depression it is not personal weakness that you can “snap out of.”  Depression is a chronic illness that may require the treatment of a Psychiatrist and the counseling from a Psychologist.  A medical doctor should not be diagnosing it, unless it is to send you to psychiatrist.  I would not (now) trust a Medical Doctor to treat depression with medication.  I have learned that the medications are so unique in their effects on each person, that it takes someone specially trained to help you called a Psychiatrist.

Some liken it to diseases like diabetes or high blood pressure that are serious but treatable.  For me it feels more like a cancer in remission, life threatening but you can fight it.  But it is true that most depression is treatable.

It is easy to get discouraged with the diagnosis.  Easy to begin to feel you will never be free of the stigma of depression.  You will never be happy.  That is I thought for a long time, when I was in weekly therapy working my ass off in counseling.  That is some of the hardest mental work I’ve ever done, not to mention emotional and even physical.  You have to be committed and even when I was there were lengths of time when I had to take a break from weekly therapy.  I simply wanted to enjoy a month or so of feeling okay.  Then something would trigger, and I’d be back at it.  My work was on the past, learning to rewrite the negative tapes in my head, attacking the lies.  Waking up grateful.  On taking risks and daring to succeed.

As I mentioned I have received a lot of help from psychological counseling and eventually at a dangerous point, began to take medication.

I do not want this to be a life sentence.  I have worked hard.   But there’s also a spiritual aspect that cannot be overlooked.  And as a person who believes in the message of Jesus, I have disciplined myself to be open to  the Holy Spirit and I have quit a few bad habits because of that including admitting that I am an alcoholic July 17, 2008.  My last alcoholic stupor… (that’s it’s own story. Check the TAGS.)

Through writing poetry I have made inroads into my Life Story and discovered how it made me who I am.  I have discovered a lot, admitted to anger that I didn’t know was there.  The opposite side of the coin of depression is anger, but I thought I didn’t have any anger.  Perhaps most important, I worked on forgiveness and on being a more honest person.

Over the years I have had a lot of help and support.  Number one being my husband Tom who not only carried the load of a full-time job but during those very difficult times he did everything else. I have a number of incredible friends who are always right there when things are really bad.

So many people tell me how amazing it is that I am so frank and all I can do is thank them.  Alcoholics are liars.  Addicts are liars.  Whether you lie to yourself or to everyone else, you convince yourself of many things that are untrue.  I protect myself from that by being brutally honest.   I have worked very hard to give up the destructive things that were impacting my body for the worse.  I will always be an alcoholic. I’m not ashamed of that.  I’m strong enough to have quit and let me tell you, there are a lot of people out there who struggle with drinking habits but are unwilling to consider giving it up.  I get that.  It took me about five years to admit it finally.

What I’ve learned.

So beyond what I’ve already said I came up with a list of eight things that I have learned along the way.  If you don’t suffer from depression, you  likely know someone who does and it is hard to know what to do.  Perhaps these thoughts will offer some help and hope.

1]  Each person must find the healing path for themselves.

(with the help of professionals, family and friends.)

Because I’m a curious person and I want to help myself, I read a lot and have learned there are many, many opinions for how to get help or to help yourself.  There are new things to try all the time and you have to keep working until you find what works for you.  New to me is Yoga something that I have never done.  Up until hearing about Amy Weintraub (see below) I had not heard Yoga described as a practice for healing from depression. I have tried an eight week class in Mindfulness and found it to be terrific, but like any discipline it must be maintained for it ongoing benefits.  Exercise of any sort is the same way.   Research shows that exercise is equal to or more effective than medications for treating depression. Both exercise or medication must be combined with the therapy work of a counselor.

What I do know is that I do not want this struggle my whole life.  But I accept that I may never be free of depressive episodes.  I know this.  If this is the case then my ability to work on being healthy will be important.   My commitment to managing the pain also important.  Perhaps I will have to work on acceptance of it so that I don’t get resentful or bitter.  I think it is important to prepare either way.

2]  You can learn to feel it coming.

Though you can’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps when clinically depressed, YOU CAN LEARN TO FEEL IT COMING. And before it completely takes over, you can fight back.  But how does one fight back?  Keep reading.

3]  You should listen to your body and take care of it.  Also, listen to your mind.

  • Get back to counseling.  Sometimes just a check-in with your Psychologist can help get back on track.  For me the voice of reason asking me “What’s the worst that can happen?”  or “And you believed that, why?” is good!  Logical questioning helps me immensely.  Tom is also able to do this for me now, but not at first.  I’m stronger now so I “hear” him differently.
  • Make sure you are exercising regularly.
  • Make sure you are eating regularly and well (fruits & veggies, protein, whole grains.)  I crave sugar and it’s the absolute worst for my moods.  I stop eating meals and binge on bad things.  It’s true.  When those habits pop up again it’s a sure sign something is up.

4]  Take care of our soul —  whatever that means for you.

  • Get back to church (if you go) no matter what it takes.
  • Pick up the phone.  Get together with a  friend; one on one is best.
  • Learn to be a friend even when you aren’t well.  I was completely knocked out recently by the realization that my good friend was also suffering and in my complete focus on myself I didn’t even know it.  We got together and laughed, cried and hugged, and listened to one another.  It was a profound lesson for me that one can heal by giving and receiving.

Perhaps the next suggestion should be first, underlined and italicized.

5]  Don’t be afraid to admit that you are depressed.

  • Tell a trusted person what’s really going on.  This is sometimes the first and most difficult step.  My pride, my fear,  my feelings of failure and personal responsibility for “allowing” it to come back — the lies that crowd in — are hard to overcome, but when I finally admit what’s going on it is such a relief.  A trusted person will help you walk through getting help.  I guarantee you will get to a point where it gets more and more difficult the longer you wait.  Once you start to fight back against what is happening to you, you will get better.  And fighting is good and necessary.  Do talk to your spouse, partner or a parent.  Anyone who has walked with you through life’s challenges.
  • It isn’t wise to tell an acquaintance or a friend on the periphery of your life because you will be disappointed by their inability to stick with you.  It is not because they are bad people or even that they don’t care, but because they just cannot be there.
  • Don’t let pride get in the way.  Need is humbling.  But it may come down to a  life or a death.
  • Your friends cannot help you if you are unwilling to tell them.  People live busy fractured lives.  Good, caring people rush from one activity to the next, especially in the Christian community.  So busing doing, slowing down to notice you is difficult.  It’s simple a fact of American culture.  Tell a friend.
  • If someone tells you they plan to take their own life, no matter who they are to you ALWAYS believe them.  Get them help.

6]  Repeat after me.

I have intentionally written this in the first person.  (Tom always has to remind me.  Yep, every single time…)  Say it with me now:

  1. I am not responsible for my depression coming or returning.
  2. Depression is an illness, not a weakness or character flaw or sin.  It is not a spiritual mistake.
  3. I will be “happy” some day!

7]  Work on your relationships when you are not struggling.

Life brings all sorts of people to us.  The ones that will stick with you when you are at your lowest  or “worst” are the ones that we can be investing in when we are at our best. Never forget that the people in your life need you as much as you need them.  Remember the corny phrase “You have to be a friend to have a friend.”  Well, as silly as that sounds it is true.

I hope my life will include months and  some day years where I am healthy and my depression is in “remission.” I want to pour myself into the people I love.

Depression has given me a sense for people that I never had before, or at least an empathetic ear.  I never ask “how are you?” unless I have time to hear how they are doing.   Once the answer took three hours.  Sometimes it is just a hug.

People are hurting all around us.  They have physical trials and pain.  They live most of their lives alone or lonely.   They hurt and I will never know that if I don’t ask.  You will never know unless you ask, and mean it.  Unless you notice the people in your life and push back when they say “I’m fine” you won’t be able to show them that you heard them.

8]  It is important to have a creative outlet or a hobby that you love.

There is a woman in my neighborhood that I don’t know well, but I enjoy very much.  She has Multiple Sclerosis.  She uses her blog to chart her illness’ progress and to write about something that she loves, which also nourishes and heals, which is FOOD.  It arose out of her wish to pay attention to her body and her healing. She says on her blog:

“I am working with what I am given, trudging through difficulties without turning away.”

I love that.  That’s why I write about my depression.  That’s why I blog.  I want to encourage others and I need to be continuously learning and reminding myself of the progress.  By writing I make discoveries about myself.  I can celebrate the journey I am on and not turn away from it.  I can tell the truth.

But I also have my photography which has been an incredible place to express myself, even on the worst days.  When I feel so badly that I don’t pick up the camera, that’s an alert.

My Complete Honesty Now.

When the clinical depression is at its worst, it is hell — It saps your energy, your self-esteem, your passion for life, your decision-making ability and steals everything that makes you unique.  It is a liar and a thief.   A betrayer. (I have some powerful poems about it.)  Here’s a powerful one .

I Am Destruction

I wake with the familiar headache.
Deeply tired.  My bones in protest.
Emotions already chafing; dazzling, fluorescent, raw. Ablaze.
Coffee the first panacea of the day.
Sip by sip, its power over me if not to heal, then to awaken.

Slowly flooded by familiar disappointment.
Weary, I begin to See myself.
I am Destruction.
I am Broken Promises wielding their power.
The surge of rage,  justified.
It hurts.
My body adjusting to an awareness
of this old enemy within.
Destruction’s impact yet unknown.
Fury toward the innocent who contribute to the chaos
of my life and toward, the hell inside me.

10/27/08

But I have learned, over the years, how to live with depression and “manage” it.  I do believe this strategy is the only hope for me and perhaps something here will help you or someone else.  That is my hope.

Be well, friends.

Melody

  • I recently learned about Amy Weintraub who worked to cure her own clinical depression over time by practicing yoga.  She tells her story in her book Yoga for Depression.   I can’t wait to read it.    The thought that I might be free from depression some day; I do not believe it if I am completely honest with you.  I am a realist when it comes to dealing with pain.  Pain just is.  And so I  have imagined the diagnosis of clinical depression as a life sentence from which there is no long-term cure.  Unless I can find something more to help or experience a modern-day miracle life will be challenging to manage.  Who knows, perhaps yoga.  As I said, search until you find what works.

“Why Do You Care So Much About LGBT Issues? Are YOU queer?”

It’s an honest question, I guess.  But the implication is that in caring for friends who are gay, lesbian or bi-, or any persecuted population, there must be some underlying story.  Let’s be truly honest, at least I will be, for a moment.   And I guess I’ll generalize dangerously, but I think I’m fairly close to the truth when I say …

Some Christians don’t know how to love people that they do not like or do not understand.

They are often the ones who avoid the discomfort of being in a setting with any group that makes them feel a minority.  That is if they even think about it.

They may wrap their beliefs up in a neat and tidy box, but the fact is they are unwilling to have a friend who is queer.  I dare you to step out of your comfort zone.  And I can promise that nothing untoward will happen.  And you just might learn something about yourself.

Let’s broaden the conversation and throw out an even broader generalization but I believe that most people, Christian or not, very rarely allow ourselves to be without our power.

Perhaps unintentionally, but it rare that white people put ourselves in places where we don’t hold that (white) power.    Yeah, I’m talking about white people because being white, we have power just because of the color of our skin.  And we might be complete wing nuts, but it will stay true. Also, being straight in today’s society holds power.  (Being a man holds power, but that’s not the subject here I just had to say it.)

Here is the real truth.  I have someone very close to me who is bi-sexual.  This is someone who I love.  Someone that I would like to come to know the Jesus I know,the way I know him.   Someone who rejects Jesus because of reputation of “the Church” and someone who considers it evidence of bigotry that Christian’s lack love for them…

The friends and acquaintances over the years that are queer — some out and some not, but I love them.  I hurt for them.  I heart aches over the rejection and disapproval that is shown to queer people mostly by Christians.  When I picture those friends in my mind  I have to acknowledge to myself that their lives are incredibly difficult and it is mostly because our culture is so bigoted and I want to love them, take them home and care of them.  It’s the Mother in me who would adopt all these “kids” so that they’d know unconditional love.

And as for being a minority within a dominant culture, well

the little I have learned is that I have all this power that I don’t even acknowledge most of the time.

And this power makes my life so much easier than those that are not white or straight.  Most people, other than whites,  face  the biases and prejudices of the dominant culture every single day.  My culture. My people.  My tribe does this and it hurts me.

And one of my new year’s resolutions (Go ahead, check.  I wrote them down here.) was to place myself in positions where I was a minority — Whether that is my lily whiteness — or my being straight — or my being  a Christian — I want to be with other people, without my power getting in the way, so that I can learn.  I’ll become the better person for it.

So why do I care so much about friends who are LGB or T — and People who are Homeless — and People of Color — and Women ….  And generally anyone who is persecuted for something that they are, because I hope I am a bridge person in between.

I believe that this is what Jesus would want me to do.

It is as complicated and as simple as that.

OCTOBER 8TH UPDATE: I JUST READ AN ARTICLE THAT MADE ME REALIZE HOW STUPID (REALLY JUST LAZY THINKING TO BE HONEST) IT WAS TO CALL MYSELF, AS A WOMAN, GAY.   HENCE THE CHANGE IN TITLE.

http://www.qideas.org/essays/project-love-restoring-a-bridge-with-the-gay-community.aspx?page=4

I Will Not Be Silent

A Suicide Note
Image by έŁέ¢τяøиί¢ έγέ via Flickr

Five suicide deaths by students bullied because of being GLBT or Q is a tragedy — each life lost was important and significant.

Each life matters to their mother and father, family and friends.  Each person had hopes and dreams of a life of love and acceptance.  Each child deserves to feel safe at any school.

I know teachers and staff that work hard to help in Madison schools, as I saw recently with a transgender child in elementary school.

But more needs to be done.  Each and every student deserves to attend safe and welcoming schools, even in rural or more conservative towns.   They deserve to have us speak up when homophobia or bigotry occurs — whether it is seemingly innocent or blatantly malicious.

No matter your religious viewpoint about sexual orientation or gender identity – each of us in this nation should come together to agree on this fact:  Kids committing suicide is tragic and should not happen.

Eugene Cho, a pastor that I know via his blog, wrote this today:

When the issue of GLBTQ come up, it’s easier to keep the conversation about theological and biblical interpretations and well, the issue of the subject in hand but in the meanwhile, we forget there’s people behind the issues.

There’s always people behind the issues.  But regardless of interpretations and views, we should all agree: This needs to stop.  But when we are silent, we are complicit.

I implore each person reading this to speak up about this horrendous tragedy. Express how wrong it is that kids are resorting to suicide.

There is no wrong way to humbly listen and learn from a GLBTQ  friend.  Listen to them and hear their story. See them.  They could be, may be, your brother, sister, child, parent, aunt, uncle or friend who is sitting silent and afraid.  Make it safe for people to be with you.  And remember these young men:

  • Raymond Chase was 19, an openly gay sophomore studying culinary arts at Johnson & Wales University in Rhode Island. He killed himself Wednesday after a fellow student in his dorm wrote, “You are gay, get out of Barlow [Hall] before you regret it” on his dry erase board.
  • 18-year-old Rutgers freshman Tyler Clementi threw himself off of the George Washington Bridge on Sept. 22, after his roommate had broadcast secret video footage of his sexual encounter with another man over the Internet.
  • On Sept. 23, Asher Brown, 13, shot himself in the head at his parent’s home in Cypress, Texas.
  • On Sept. 19 in Tehachapi, Calif., 13-year-old Seth Walsh hanged himself from a tree and died Tuesday after nine days of life support.
  • 15-year-old Billy Lucas of Greensburg, Ind., also took his own life earlier in the month.

My heart is heavy tonight.

Melody

GLBTQ issues In the News: http://www.glaad.org/bestandworst

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If you are what you eat, I’m a Chocolate Croissant!

A Pain au chocolat from a Belgian Bakery.
Image via Wikipedia

“You are what you eat.” If that is true, I am a Chocolate Croissant.

I’ve felt righteously sorry for myself lately, it’s true!  And have eaten badly as a result.  I don’t exactly know why.

And my foot is hurting and has been for about ten days.  Everything I do makes it ache and sometimes it is much worse.  Finally, I saw the doctor today.  Her diagnosis “potentially” (waiting for blood work) is a form of arthritis.  Yeah, the A-word at 44.

If that’s not depressing enough, I called my mom afterward for our family history, because I didn’t know when she asked if this was in my history.  It turns out that arthritis runs willy nilly through her family.  She has it and it goes all the way back to Grandpa who was stooped over from arthritis by the time he died.  Several cousins and both of her sisters.  Even one of my sisters (younger than I am) has it in her lower back “prematurely for her age.”  Yikes!  You know all of this is arguably a part of aging, but I firmly believe even in your forties (or any time) you can resist entropy and apathy.

Isn’t it true that we are so easily distracted from our goals?

And really in this age of drive-thru-fast-everything, we want magical results — When they don’t come, we give up!  Quickly!  And if over time, like me, you’ve experienced the creep of weight gain, then you’re probably at least in your forties and you want it gone.  (In my thirties and twenties I could eat and drink whatever I wanted and I never exercised at least not on purpose. Oh, if only people knew that when they are young!  Your body responds so much more quickly to reform.)

Oh well.  That knowledge won’t help me now.   But I am competitive and motivated by it, so when I read a challenge from a fellow blogger that seems doable, I determined that no matter my pains (and they are many) I have to keep moving and working on weight loss. Slowly but surely.

So, October 1 to November 1, I will:

1. Set a weight loss (or  gain, or maintenance) goal.

2. Commit to writing a food diary every day of the challenge.

3. Commit to a regular exercise program for every day of the challenge.

Would you do this with me?

Even if you are in the peak of shape (lucky you, if you are) exercise is so good for the body, mind and soul.  If you decide to, be brave and let me know by “registering” for the challenge, write your goal and details of your exercise program in the comments section of today’s post.  Then, for the duration of the challenge, write down for yourself your daily efforts, eating, etc.  — If weight isn’t your issue, pick something else and commit to working on it between October 1st and November 1st.

There are other goals you might aspire to, anything in the area of personal challenge.

  • To write for 15 minutes every day.

  • To read a certain book.

  • To spend quality time with someone.

  • To be a person of Grace (I’m working on this.)

  • To stop negative back talk (I’m also working on this!)

Whatever it is, I think there is value in a community of people knowing your heart and in having what you do matter to others.

Plus, I’m awful curious who my readers are.  I know I have them, yes I know you are there because I have the stats.  And occasionally people write me privately to say they “lurk” —  totally cool. But if you’re feeling brave, tell “Us” a personal goal you have for the next month.

To summarize: I’m 35 pounds overweight and out of shape. 5’6″, 44 years old, 170 lbs.  I will:

  • walk six days a week. My foot is hurt/ing so I’m not sure what that will do to my walking but I can’t keep making excuses for pain, perhaps just no incline  for now, which exacerbates it.

  • find Yoga to practice three times a week to manage stress and sciatic/back issue.

  • do PT stretches every other day.

  • eat three meals a day focusing on natural (not processed) food. I will write everything down that I consume.

My goal: 2 pounds a week for month of October. I think that is doable.  What about you?

Many thanks to the_next_hundred_pounds for her challenge and inspiration!

Do you ever wonder why we are here?

The Grim Reaper
Image by Helico via Flickr

So, Tom has been experiencing some strange pains in his neck and face — odd twitches and discomforts.  It has gone on  for a long enough period of time that he jokingly calls it his tumor.  But the truth is he is afraid.  We joke about it, then we get serious and a little scared, and then we forget it about it again for a while, until something in that same region hurts and then it starts all over again.  But the truth is …

… every person has to accept that one day they will die.

Even this week Tom was having little shooting pains on the “tumor” side of his face as he was preparing to leave for a trip.  Last night he said to me that we should “up his life insurance policy.”  WTF? I do not like when he talks like that.  But it shows the extent to which he is worried.  Me being me, I said:  “If the life insurance policy isn’t high enough then let’s get that fixed!”   I tend to kick into Problem Solver when the topic is too difficult.  Of course we’ve also had the “Call the doctor if you are so worried” conversation many times.  And he has an appointment for when he gets back.

Most people, including Tom and I, live like we have another fifty years at least.  It could be tomorrow that the grim reaper comes.  We don’t know.   And that got me thinking.

What do we hope people will remember about our life?  What legacy will you leave?

I just had an interesting conversation with a 22-year-old about identity, self-esteem, and  why we are here (on the planet.)  I mostly listened to the angst.  (Sometimes it is so nice to be 44. I would not go back to my twenties, no never.)

But it was hard to restrain myself from suggesting that the  hipster clothes, beauty or good looks, fitness, higher degrees, “significant” job and especially, the idealistic ideas debated with friends late at night over cigarettes and coffee — none of that matters ultimately if you hate yourself …

And, even if you are able to find a look that’s “you” and get through college and get the coolest job of your dreams, even if you accomplish it all — you will still be — you.  You cannot imagine that when you’re young.  But it is so true.  All that stuff is empty unless you are grounded in something.

I think what matters is this:

Do we love?  Do we (actually and genuinely) care about others?  I believe it is how we treat people, no matter who it is, that is the final measure of a person.  By offering back to others the dignity of love and acceptance, well in my opinion that is a life well spent.  Bertrand Russel said “To a modern mind, it is difficult to feel enthusiastic about a virtuous life if nothing is going to be achieved by it.”  I understand thinking like that but I completely disagree.

It was Gandhi, the great activist and spiritual leader who said “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” This makes me so sad.

This is what keeps my young friend away from faith of any kind: Religion. Religious people. Christians.

And yet, the Jesus I know said you should love God with everything in your heart, soul and mind AND you should love others as yourself.

He said others will know we’re followers of Jesus by our love.

He said if you have an enemy you should do good for them or to them — expecting nothing in return.

Sadly, this is not what my young friend sees in the lives of what she calls “religious” people. I asked her rather to look at the life of Jesus himself, his teachings in the Bible and to decide for herself.

Be well friends.

44 and 40 more!

I know, I know.  Hoky.  But I can’t help it — that phrase is ringing in my  head — “44 and 40 more.”

DWELL IN POSSIBILITY.

– Emily Dickinson

I love, love, love dear Emily D.

I have without a doubt found healing and answers in the last few years looking backward.  The truth of those experiences needed to be brought into the light and this was important because my family had lived so many years afraid and not able to speak truthfully.  But …

several things happened on my birthday that confirmed the idea that I am easily drawn to the negative.  Perhaps this is my nature.  Perhaps this is human nature?  I have to tell the truth, which I am grateful to be able to in all honesty.   But I don’t think it is completely about truth telling or not at this point.  So, what is on my mind and heart  is to dwell in possibility.

Of this I am certain — that I am to focus on the unlimited possibilities found in today.

CS Lewis said: “Gratitude looks to the past and love to the present; fear, avarice, lust, and ambition look ahead.”

What comes to mind this morning …

Perseverance is a long obedience in the right direction!

(Who said that?)

A New Way to be Human

A New Way to be Human

To look at the last decade of my superficially is to miss the miracle.

Everything flows back to my father who was addicted to a vitriolic and cruel rage and took it out on us all.  His anger was cruel and it undermined what I thought of him.  Though his public figure was charming and people always wanted to be around him.  He was a minister to others throughout his life but at home – he was unforgivably harsh.

We were all affected differently.  My three sisters in their own unique ways are each formidable women.   Though we all live with the legacy of Dad’s anger, it has unlocked different things in us.  For me the heartbreak of his disapproval was especially hurtful.  I do not think that my spirit & soul ever fully developed.

After college I learned quickly that I had Dad’s skill for managing process and people.  Creativity energized me and I soon ran my own communications department at a small non-profit.  I was given more and more responsibility, promotions and opportunities for influence and I loved the constant challenge.

I was doing well, but didn’t feel any triumph.  I tried working longer and harder and better, but it could not satisfy the colossal hole inside me.  Instead the needy monster of insecurity grew inside me. Anxiety and dread hovered.  I stayed busy and numb.  Somehow unaware of my pain, because I didn’t allow myself time to think or feel.

Little by little I stopped believing in all the reasons I was doing my job.  Slowly I was turning into a critical, perfectionist, and overly competitive person — I became my father, without the rage.  Newly married, I brought it all home with me.  I was the horrible person that I had feared and loathed growing up.  Life became a difficult dance — of work and home –the thought of quitting it all began to compete in my head with the need for significance eating at me.

My spirit was troubled.  Life was a constant push and pull of expectation and disappointment.

What a relief it was when I finally quit — though it was not an easy decision.  My husband and I looked practically at our earning power, my extreme dissatisfaction with my job and agreed together that one of us should be home with our three kids who were under four. To his credit, he always thought I would not like being at-home. I talked to women about their experiences for more than a year.  I do remember being afraid to give up personal income power.   All of my life I watched my mother at-home and saw that it guaranteed she was trapped without options.  I connected it to being “at-home.” So in a sense I was giving up when I quit working and stayed home.

When I left full-time work in 2001, I was bone tired.  I didn’t have work to define me any longer.  Suddenly I had vast stretches of undefined time.  I went into autopilot at first, letting being a full-time mommy distract me.  But nine months after leaving full-time work, I became pointedly aware that I hated being at home; which is dreadful to admit among certain circles.  I was disappointed with who I had become both at work and at-home.

I was headed toward a major life crisis –and after years of denying how bad I felt I faced it.  That was when I became clinically depressed. That was when things fell apart.

I have always been mildly melancholy in temperament.  But this was different — so different it is really quite inconceivable until it happens to you.

True Depression is a sink hole – It slows time down.  Hours turn into days.  It fogs my brain and makes it impossible to think.  The rules that I lived by all my life are swept off the table without consideration or consequence.  Up is down and down is up or maybe even sideways.  It hurts physically; even my skin hurts.  Asking for help is insurmountable.  But overwhelmingly, you need human contact.  Isolation only reinforces. Those that love me can recognize it in my eyes – meaning I cannot lie and say I’m okay, which I have tried a few times.  But the truth is that while I want to deny depressions’ return, health and healing come in the telling – in admitting your need.  A true friend listening helped me crawl out of the trance where simply breathing hurts.

Back then, I knew nothing about depression or what was happening to me.   For a while I focused on care of our children. That I did, somehow. Was it one long day—or a year—that I nursed, changed diapers, read story books, comforted and loved?  I have no memory of it hoping they don’t either, but sadly my daughter sometimes—still—gets overcome by fear that she will lose me.  Some inner notion tells her that she almost did.  I—so—regret this…  My sorrow is deep.  I didn’t know or understand what was happening to me for a very long time.  Eventually, I asked for help.

Service and sacrifice, along with higher degrees, are the pinnacle of success for my parents.  I have always known this and been frightened that I could never meet their expectations. The voices in my head have always told me that I was worthless.  Now they say I will always be a mess.  But they are wrong.

That first depressive episode took months to get through and became the beginning of a new way of being. I am not the person I used to be.

I was driven to succeed out of fear of failing.  Now, somehow I don’t have to look at these years as lost – though for nearly a decade I did nothing to further my career.  Sometimes I do compare myself to my sisters who during those same years were very busy.  One is ordained, running a parish and working on a PhD.  Another adopted two Chinese children and works at her church.  My youngest got her masters and worked full-time, while having three kids.  (My father, who died during that time, would be ecstatic.)

And me?  I have been here—

At my computer finding healing through writing;

In my garden growing a delight in the beauty all around me;

With my photography expressing my spirit and soul.   And, lest you think that it has been easy, know that I have working hard on my stuff.

Depression broke me—it was an unexpected and unimaginable grief in the midst of life’s toss and tumble of a young family and work.

It taught me to stop and reconsider many things.  It forced me to truly look and see myself for the first time. If forced me to stop running.  Though I was not much of a drinker for most of my life, I found myself craving a glass of wine to get me through the evening which soon became two, or three, until I knew – years before I admitted it out loud – that I was addicted.  Admitting that was by far harder than admitting depression.  Although both are illness (this has been proven by research) alcoholism holds a stigma that is hard to get over, especially as a soccer-mom in her thirties.

It must be said that there is no way I could have gotten through clinical depression and alcoholism without health insurance.  Psychological counseling, medication, a hospitalization and alcohol counseling have been integral to my health and are expensive!  Without that help — and my incredibly supportive husband and precious friends, and a renewed faith — I have no doubt that I would have drunk myself to death by now.   I am gratefully sober today two years later.

Life doesn’t stop because you are unwell.  My father was diagnosed with cancer and died during those years. Our family has faced many trials.  Although I reconciled with my father before he died, I have spent the seven years since working on forgiving him.

As I look at those years, I see what I thought was success was anything but and what was necessary – to lose so much made me strong.

These days some might say I don’t do anything.  But I am very content for now to work on my physical and mental health, which are intricately woven together.  I write in order to learn and sometimes it helps others.

Yes, I have learned a new way to be human.  I breathe life in—slowly—with full appreciation. I still long for more – but for now it is enough to be alive and thankful.

Just thinking … about agape.

I’ve thought a lot recently about the last decade.

How quickly it evaporated.  If you mark your life by major transitions a big one was in 2001 when I quit full-time work at InterVarsity.  In the years since I have grown up — as in separated from my parents emotionally and allowed myself to grow up, mature, and even move ahead of where they were at my age.  It was harder than you think.  I have also fallen in love with Jesus, as never before and accepted the Grace offered to me freely. I pray for better understanding!  I have begun to ponder life’s greatest purposes for people and more specifically me.  And, I have found an emotional equilibrium of sorts — became a drunk & got sober.  All this in a decade.  Phew!

I can’t help but wonder — What will the next decade hold?

Sunday, we heard teaching on agape which is a different kind of love than the other three: eros, storge and philios.   Agape is completely motivated in one direction.

I struggle with love.  Not loving others, that comes easily for me.  Even the kind that goes only in one direction.  And I want to be the sort of person that doesn’t need to have something in return.  But the example I grew up with made it difficult for me to believe others really love me. I’m afraid that my parent’s example was always doubting others’ love and rarely trusting anyone.

I didn’t learn that people can be counted on.  My family legacy is one of anger and record keeping.  I am breaking that cycle but I still don’t really believe that I am lovable.  My Doc says if I would just “find confidence within myself” I wouldn’t need him any more.  “The root of all my problems” is my lack of confidence.  (Of course he also tells me not to take the things he says out of context, which I have completely done here.)

But I do think — have thought for some time — that if people (if I) could learn to love others in this way — agape — we (I) would be ultimately content.  And happy.

Where I get into trouble is my need.  What do you DO WITH THE NEED?

I do honestly help others simply out of a wish to be helpful.  These pears I dutifully checked for ripeness daily for three weeks for my neighbors, not out of a desire for anything but just to be helpful as they traveled.  Stuff like that comes easily.  But often, I know I am longing for people to love me. I am not motivated by it but it is there and can’t be ignored.  Or maybe I’m just a nice person.  Perhaps it doesn’t really matter that our motives are pure?  If you believe 1 Corinthians then I think it does.

On the other hand, if I expect nothing in return because I don’t feel lovable that is not agape either.  That’s something I don’t have a name for but my prayer is to stop that!

I want to become a person who is fully living out agape.  Mother Theresa was someone whose life exemplified agape. Henri Nouwen.  Many others.  How do we become more like them in their loving others?  I guess I’m gonna have to read C.S. Lewis’ Four Loves.  If this agape is something that is really important, as important as it seems to be, then I need to understand it more fully.

Just thinking.

If this got you thinking, my church is doing a series on all of this and you can watch or listen online.  Or, you’re welcome to come along with me some time.  I can’t promise that they have all the answers but they do make you think.  And obviously I don’t either but the journey is fun!

Be well,

Melody

Intense love does not measure, it just gives.   — Mother Teresa

Can depression lead to a richer spiritual life?

Our tears so blind our eyes that we cannot see our mercies.
               -- John Flavel (1627-1691)

The thoughts by Dr. Parker Palmer below are beautifully expressed and echo my experience with clinical depression.  If you’ve never suffered, it may enlighten or expand your notions and ability to empathize.  Reading it was a comfort to me and perhaps it will be to you, as well, if you have suffered.

I also have a poem I wrote a while back about being in the middle of clinical depression titled “Sink Hole.”

How could depression lead to a richer spiritual life?

“I can answer this question only after the fact, because in the midst of severe clinical depression I have never felt anything redeeming about it, spiritually or otherwise. But when I emerge back into life, several things become clear.

* One is that the darkness did not kill me, which makes all darknesses more bearable—and since darkness is an inevitable part of the cycle of spiritual life (as it is in the cycle of natural life) this is valuable knowledge.

* Two, depression has taught me that there is something in me far deeper and stronger and truer than my ego, my emotions, my intellect, or my will. All of these faculties have failed me in depression, and if they were all I had, I do not believe I would still be here to talk about the experience. Deeper down there is a soul, or true self, or “that of God in every person” that helps explain (for me, at least) where the real power of life resides.

* Three, the experience of emerging from a living hell makes the rest of one’s life more precious, no matter how “ordinary” it may be. To know that life is a gift, and to be grateful for that gift, are keys to a spiritual life, keys that one is handed as depression yields to new life.

Sinkhole

the woman thought to herself,
what’s really important?

[some days I wake up so lost I can’t remember
why I got up the day before;
what mattered enough to make
me want to get up?]

the woman told herself
breathe, just breathe in.
exhale, do it because you can.

[I haven’t had a day like this in a long time.
such a long time that it almost hurts worse
than before when the bad days
were constant.]

the woman laid down, her skin hurt
she gave in, just for a moment, an hour.
thinking perhaps if I sleep
this feeling will flee, and it will almost be
as if it never happened.

[I know from experience
you can NEVER give in to it.
depression is like a Sink Hole.
FIGHT,  get up.  Don’t let it win.]

the woman thought to herself
and took a breath.
and another, and accepted
again,
that this was a fight, but it was her fight.
and one that she wanted to win.

Ack Americans! Is it time to head for the border?

from Smithsonian :Folio from a Koran :9th-10th...
Image via Wikipedia

Seriously, the lack of compassion for and understanding of Muslim culture and the Koran by your every day American has me thinking.

Although I kind of take pride in the fact that I am an open-minded person (not like the Crazies), I really don’t know anything about Muslim culture. Like, is it the Koran or the Qur’an?  I don’t know.  So I picked up a copy at Borders the other day.

Like the Bible, there are  many and varied translations and I had no idea which was better than another.  So I based my decision on two things.  First chose a trusted publisher so that they will at least treat the translation like literature.  And second, the price.  I’m a practical person.

$12 for the Koran published by PENGUIN CLASSICS and translated by N.J. Dawood born in Baghdad.  He published the first book of the Koran in contemporary English.   It is also available in a parallel English-Arabic edition but I decided I should stick to my native language. From the back:

N.J. Dawood’s masterly translation is the result of his lifelong study of the Koran’s language and style, and presents the English reader with a fluent and authoritative rendering, while reflecting the flavour and rhythm of the original.

“Across the language barrier Dawood captures the thunder and poetry of the original.” THE TIMES

And so, against the advice of the introduction, I proceeded to read the first chapter, called a surah. The introduction said that a beginner should start with one of the shorter (easier) chapters.  I’ve never been one for listening to advice like this.  Don’t think my brain is meaty enough, huh?  Stubbornly I ventured into the beautiful and poetic verse.

But reading the Koran got me thinking.

How many Christians not only have never read the Koran but have never read their own Holy Bible through?  You don’t have to raise your hand, but I will.  Never.  Not straight through.  I mean, c’mon, some of it is freaking boring and it is downright disturbing in places.

I consider myself to have studied a fair amount.  Taken many classes and done many studies of books of the Bible.  But it hasn’t been since high school that I took a survey of the Old Testament.  So I’m going to also put myself on a plan for reading through the Bible.

Not wanting to be overly aggressive and make goals that you and I both know I will fail to carry out, I found one on-line by Margie Haack which she calls ‘The Bible Reading Plan for Slackers and Shirkers because you don’t have to do it within a timeframe and it has variety with a focus on genres not books.

I have a confession to make (please do not tell my husband*) but I love ORDER.

I love the tradition and stability of the high church.  My soul kind of craves knowing that over a period of one to three years the church would present the full picture.  Obviously that renders the opposite, where churches pick and choose and seem to flit about based on the whim or indigestion of the pastor or whether he had a fight with his wife, scares the shit out of me!  My church seems to find a balance though it could lean a bit more toward the liturgical calendar for me, but then it’s not about me is it?

*You see, though I crave order I am rather ADHD in my life — Books I am reading, housekeeping, relationships, in my writing, in my heart & mind!  I would love to see a flow chart of my brain.  No I wouldn’t that would be crazy!  Anyhow, my brain wants order.  And so when I set my alarm every night to wake at 5:30 am and I get up, make my coffee, take my pills and then sit down and take my reading  from A Guide to Prayer for Ministers & Other Servants (that’s me, Other) I feel grounded.  I usually have an hour before anyone in the house is awake to follow my plan for the week of reading and prayer.   In this structure I find a peace.  A tranquility. A sense of order to my chaos.

I sit down alone,

Only God is here;

In his presence I open,

I read his books;

And what I thus learn,

I teach.

(I would say “And what I thus learn, I try to live.”)

— John Wesley

So, back to the plan for reading the Bible.  Here’s how it works:

  • Sundays: Poetry
  • Mondays: Pentateuch (Genesis through Deuteronomy)
  • Tuesdays: Old Testament history
  • Wednesdays: Old Testament history
  • Thursdays: Old Testament prophets
  • Fridays: New Testament history
  • Saturdays: New Testament epistles (letters)

What’s great is if you do miss a day – just pick up with the next reading the next day.  You get to the end, when ever.  What’s even better, for a big picture person like me, is this plan allows us to see the many interconnections between sections of Scripture.  There’s nothing better than a plan that offers discipline and order that I crave and the grace to accomplish it!

Read on!

Melody

Here’s a  link to where you can download the plan from Ransom Fellowship.