Not to Speak is to Speak: Volume 3

“If we could read the secret history of our enemies,

we should find in each man’s life

sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”  

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I am finding it hard to love my enemies.

Rush Limbaugh who obviously hates women and calls them sluts and makes them feel like whores.

Those that do not understand America is made up of oppressive systems and structures for African Americans especially and other minorities. That if we don’t do something about it, we are passive racists– contributors. I read this week that the Bible has “more than 2,000 passages of Scripture about God’s hatred for poverty and oppression. They see God’s desire for systems and structures to be blessings to all of humanity — not a curse to some and a blessing for others.”  Lisa Sharon Harper, Sojourners

(White) people that say our President is not a believing Christian make me angry. Because if he isn’t, then likely they think I’m not one either.

That Olympia Snow despairs enough about our political system that she quit the Senate this last week.

Quick to rush to anger.  That’s me.

'Meet the Sports Illustrated 2011 Swimsuit Models at STK Invite' photo (c) 2011, The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/

Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition makes me angry.  Come on!  The ongoing female objectification implies that being healthy for women is all about fitting into a tiny bikini (especially since women very rarely appear on the Sports Illustrated cover otherwise).  The effect of female objectification in mainstream culture huge.   Does an interest in sports necessitate an interest in ogling female bodies? When boys watch their fathers flip through magazines dedicated to objectification, what do they learn about what it means to be a man? And what does this communicate to them about a woman’s place in society?   One positive, a doctor who raises concerns regarding the effects of “our pornified culture on our children”.  Miss Representation offered specific suggestions for creating change: positive change; healthy change. The link is www.missrepresentation.org.

I’m finding it hard to love.  These things make me angry!  God says Pray for those who persecute you.

Sigh, pray for Rush Limbaugh? Pray for racist people and the sexist editors of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition?

Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless.

Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. —  Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Not to Speak is to Speak is a series I started last year. I’m thinking of reviving it.

Volume 2

Volume 1

Were I to forgive you, Daddy … [A tale of domestic abuse, Part 2]

I just posted a piece on domestic abuse.  This is a tiny bit of my personal story that I wrote several years ago.

The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive, but do not forget.  — Thomas  S. Szasz

First published in March 2010.  This was not easy to write and it will not be an easy read.   Although my father was a dynamic, incredible, and beautiful human being he was also the perpetrator of psychological abuse in my life.  The ongoing work of processing that hasn’t been easy.  He’s been dead more than five years.  That’s created some space for honesty.  My goal has been, for many years, to get to a place where I can forgive him.  It has been interesting.

If you were a fan of my father, Dan Harrison, this will be the most difficult for you.  Just as it was unimaginably hard for me to write.

Note:  I DO NOT SPEAK FOR OR REPRESENT ANYONE ELSE IN MY FAMILY.  THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING THAT each of OUR EXPERIENCES WITH MY FATHER WERE UNIQUE.   SOME WERE TREATED MUCH WORSE, SOME BETTER.

If I were To Forgive.

If I were to forgive you Daddy, does that mean I must forget the pulse pounding fear I felt when I was around you?  The acid stomachs you gave me.  The rage dreams I still sometimes have at night.  The shuttering tears that I couldn’t stop, even when you yelled at me to do so and now I can’t make tears come at all.  The stutter you hated, but couldn’t make me lose.

You made me something broken, something messed up.

Our family was Sadness.  Illness.  Meanness.  Pride.  Anger.  Fear.  Our family was Rigid. Perfectionist.  Isolated.  Secretive.   Constant striving.  Never measuring up.

I found some small strength and safety in sarcasm and attempted humor.  And when you made me stop, there was only safety in distance, in invisibility.  Like mine, your words punctured something deep inside.

Sometimes we laughed; it was a shrieking, jaw aching, gut busting laughter from the relief of it — it was almost a sob — until you pounded on the table.  Stop, you would roar!  You felt we came too close to meanness.  You’re damn right we did.  And then, we didn’t.

If I were to forgive you Daddy, does that mean I must forget the yelling?  Door slamming.  Your rage fits.  Should I forget the fearful anxious cleaning when you were coming home – after weeks and weeks of travel while Mother was always alone?  Why did we clean, to please you.  Why were we afraid, because you were never pleased.

Should I forget the religion you forced down our throats?  Say “I forgive you.” Say “I am sorry.”  Say “I believe.”    I couldn’t forgive.  I wasn’t sorry.  I didn’t believe. “You will sing this song and study the Bible, because I say so.  And never, ever argue with me for I am never wrong.”

Daddy, it takes my breath away to remember all the times you had one of us up against the wall, sobbing.  And you wouldn’t stop.  You kept on, and on until you broke us.

You made me something broken, something messed up.

Our family was Sadness.  Illness.  Meanness. Pride.  Anger.  Fear.  Our family was Rigid. Perfectionist.  Isolated.  Secretive.   Constant striving.  Never measuring up.

If I forgave you Daddy, would the bad memories stop?

… When I was about ten we spent Easter at a cabin.  You had certain ideas of what would happen.   But you can’t make me sing.  You couldn’t make me feel whatever you were feeling.

… Or Thanksgiving with the gorging on turkey almost worth being forced to be thankful.    There was no ‘pass’ when it came to gratitude.  Or whatever you expected.

There was no pass. You changed us.  You made us something broken, something messed up. Our family was Sadness.  Illness.  Meanness. Pride.  Anger.  Fear.  Our family was Rigid. Perfectionist.  Isolated.  Secretive.   Constant striving.  Never measuring up.

Were I to forgive you Daddy, I’d have to stop being invisible for within this “super power” I found a certain peace.  If you can’t hear me or see me, you will leave me alone.  I’d hide out in my room — reading.  Reading romantic novels where the hero was larger than life — loving and devoted, trying to be somewhere, anywhere other than home.

There was so much pain.  So much fear. You changed us.

Daddy, would you have me forgive your dying confession that you were addicted to your rage? It made you feel righteous.   At the end of your life, you felt regret but wanted me to know you still felt right all those years.

Well I’m addict.  I know the lies we tell ourselves that ”I can’t stop.” I know a little of what it takes to overcome an addiction.  It starts admitting you are powerless.  That is what you could never do.  Oh, you would return full of regret and self-pity you never changed.

I reject Your Jesus who never freed you from your pain. I reject your life and actions of hypocrisy, serving God and abusing at home.

And yet, I have forgiven you.  Why?  Because that is not the Jesus I have known. The God I have known has expected me to change.  Clearly spoken and told me to lie down, be humble, let go, cast off, and cut away the things that make me broken.  As I give them up, the addictions, the anger, the bitterness, the lack of forgiveness, the depression, the fear, the isolation, the invisibility …  He fills me.

I am filled up, and as I experience going back over two and a half decades sorting memories and returning — making furtive glances and long wretched journey’s back. —  There are things that I do remember and that I will never forget.

But I forgive

You. Because I must.  God said to me forgive as you were forgiven.

And though this brings no justice, I can live with it.  You may have changed me from whoever I was meant to be, and I will always remember that and wonder who I might have been.

ON THE OTHER HAND God made me, not you.  And I have begun to overcome all that pain, a broken spirit.  I have begun to paint a portrait of a life that is visible; a colorful life, with joy, generosity, gentleness and kindness.  I have become a woman with a heart once broken, but pieced back together and strong.  And my heart is bursting with the forgiveness that I have received. And I am laughing.  And some day I believe my tears will return.

You were the sort to put rubbing alcohol on my mosquito bites, because you couldn’t stand how I wouldn’t listen and stop scratching.  You were constantly picking at me, never satisfied.  But, as a child this was something I could control. You can’t make me stop, though I would bleed and it hurt.  It is cathartic to be in control.  But some day I hope I will let go completely and won’t need absolute control of myself.  Someday, God will open up my heart completely from the prison I put it for protection and long ago lost the key.  The day God unlocks it will be a day I can only imagine, but I believe it can happen.  Then I won’t be so afraid of people.  I will jump toward life not constantly be pulling away!

Yes, I forgive you Daddy.  For now I can laugh and love when I want to, I pray and study because my heart craves more from God and I believe I have begun to create the life I was meant to have lived.

Yes, I do forgive you Daddy because there is no justice in love.

The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you. (Psalm 32:8 NLT)

Related articles.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

Someday Pain

“In certain ways writing is a form of prayer.”  — Denise Levertov

 

 

frequent looks backward,

are killing me.  a betrayal of today.

i want to know why

but yesterday hurts.

aches like a cold, itches

like a wound healing.

i can’t help but think

get over yourself.

and pray, the whispered mantra

i warble at first, hushed

to myself

someday pain won’t rule over me.

What is Lent Anyway, Besides Strange?

Ashes imposed on the forehead of a Christian o...
Image via Wikipedia

Lent is strange for those that don’t follow the tradition.  Or if followed at all it may mean giving up a vice for 40 days, an addiction to technology or caffeine or sugar, but not really knowing why.

That was true for me for many years.  If you grew up in an evangelical church like I did, you may not know that much about Lent either.

It is the period of fasting leading up to Easter to remember Jesus’ 40-day fast in the wilderness.  Like his fast, it is to be a time of sacrifice and listening.  Lent begins on Ash Wednesday and ends right before the evening service of Holy Thursday or Maundy Thursday, depending on your tradition.  This year Lent begins on March 9 in the Western Church.

For the longest time I was attracted to the idea of giving up a vice that had persistently bothered me, but I had no theological understanding of the tradition.  I think evangelicals are remiss in not teaching about Lent, which can be a beautiful and profoundly meaningful tradition of growing closer to God.

I think we miss out because we give things up but don’t replace them with anything.

The intended purpose of Lent is a season of fasting, penitence, and self-denial, but also of spiritual growth, conversion, receiving from and embracing simplicity.

“Lent, which comes from the Teutonic (Germanic) word for springtime, can be viewed as a spiritual spring cleaning: a time for taking spiritual inventory and then cleaning out those things which hinder our corporate and personal relationships with Jesus Christ and our service to him. Thus it is fitting that the season of Lent begin with a symbol of repentance: placing ashes mixed with oil on one’s head or forehead.

However, we must remember that our Lenten disciplines are supposed to ultimately transform our entire person: body, soul, and spirit. Our Lenten disciplines are supposed to help us become more like Christ. Eastern Christians call this process theosis, which St. Athanasius aptly describes as “becoming by grace what God is by nature.”1

The aim in observing Lenten disciplines is to be changed as a person — body, soul and spirit!

Therefore there is more to it than giving something up, which I’ll admit for the longest time I thought was fairly impressive in and of itself.  I don’t do well without caffeine which is something I habitually gave up. Or sweets.  Yikes that one is hard.

As one endeavors to grow to be more like Christ and know him better, with the grace of God the tradition says you would be focusing on Fasting, Praying, Almsgiving (Charity or service) and Scripture.

  • Fasting: The Catholic Church requires its members age 18 to 59 “to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, unless a physical condition prevents otherwise. This means only one full meal is permitted. The Fridays of Lent are days of required abstinence, meaning meat, and soups or gravies made of meat, are not permitted.”  This traditional way of fasting I have have never observed.  Giving up meat once a week or only drinking water for the 40 days is a way to remind ourselves of our abundance and to draw our attention to Christ’s sacrifice for us all.  And to be more conscious of how much we have.
  • Prayer: Lent is a good time to develop a discipline of daily prayer if you don’t have it already. Whatever it might be, the idea is to add the discipline of listening and seeking through prayer, whatever that looks like for you.
  • Almsgiving (Charity): While giving something up you are also to put something positive in its place. They say the best way to remove a vice is to cultivate virtue.  What might you do for someone else over Lent?
  • Scripture Reading: As he faced temptation in the desert, Jesus relied on Scripture to counter the trickery of the devil.  Growing up I was encouraged to memorize scripture, but today this rarely occurs in the Church. Memorize a section of scripture like the Beatitudes in Matthew 5.   Or if you are thinking of reading a whole book of the Bible promise yourself to read two chapters a day or finish a medium-sized book of the Bible by Easter.

Also, here is a wonderful compilation of books to read, rituals and fasts to consider, and meditations to read from Rachel Held Evans.

When it comes down to it, so often we don’t take the time to ask why we do a certain thing.  Why do I need to observe Lent?

I found Evan’s ten questions helpful to ask myself as I prepare for Lent.  But I winnowed and edited them down to three simple questions.

  • Is there a habit or sin in my life that repeatedly gets in the way of my loving God or loving others?

Ask God to get a hold of that habit over the next 40 days and help you have the discipline to give it to him, forever.

  • Is there anyone in my life with whom I need to pursue forgiveness or reconciliation? This is unlikely to happen in 40 days, but preparing your hearts for it — yes, that can happen if you ask!  Here is a poem that I wrote during a time of profound grieving knowing I had done and said what I thought was “unforgiveable.”  It is called Longing for Mercy.

 

Ask God to begin to work in your heart (and in the other person) to ready you both for reconciliation in God’s perfect timing.

  • What am I willing to give up to carve out extra time for daily contemplation and listening to God?  So often we allow life to press in and set our priorities and not decide for ourselves.  What is important?  Perhaps you need to get up an hour earlier during Lent to be with God? I started doing this in September and I can tell you that my life will never be the same.  I find myself craving that time and (most mornings) it is not difficult to get up.  You may need to go to bed earlier to do it.  I do!  Again a sacrifice, but well worth it in my experience.

Ask God to show you what you need to stop doing to have more time with him.

Ultimately we simply strive to live with the attitudes of humility, repentance and thankfulness.  I pray that you will be richly met as you seek to know Jesus better.

-mhh

A few things I wrote last year about Lent.

And if you’re more confused than satisfied with my post, here is a great description of Lent as described by Marcel & Sarah who have a blog named Aggie Catholics and lots of reading material.

————————————————————–

Other sources I used.

http://www.churchyear.net/lent.html

2 http://rachelheldevans.com/40-ideas-for-lent-2011

http://niv.scripturetext.com/matthew/5.htm

God is With Us. But Can We Find Him?

I have marvelled at my doubt.  

I am going through one of my phases where I feel extremely disappointed by organized religion.  Like Michael Jinkins, in Called to Be Human, I don’t understand what spiritual means any more than I understand what it means to be religious — but I know that today they are a pale imitation of what they should be, could be and this must grieve God.  It is almost an insult to be called “religious” today whereas “spiritual” can mean almost anything and is somehow in its inclusivity found to be admirable.

“Faith is a matter of trust and reverence more than it is a matter of beliefs and belief systems.  This is not to say that beliefs are irrelevant.  It matters a great deal whom you trust and what you hold sacred.  But the older I get, the more I see that life is mystery and the less certainty I possess.  I take more of life on faith.  I trust a lot more than I know. So my beliefs have become increasingly modest in their claims while they have become more extravagant in their hopes.”

When troubles come, when I am still, when I feel most devastated by this life, deep inside I know that the Babe of Christmas is real. 

The Babe of the incarnation is not anything to do with sentimentality and materialism.  Though my whole being is crushed by this season and though it is too strong to say that I hate Christmas — what it has become — My heart and soul are dragged down this time of year.  And I know with certainty that I lack the courage to do something different with it. 

I am no longer a child — the wonder of the season is gone. 

I am so disenchanted by it all that I have trouble relishing “the silent and holy night, the sweet and heavenly peace” that the song speaks of.  The Creator God entered into creation which is totally wrecked by our sin and He doesn’t hate nor is he disgusted by you and me, rather God takes our inconsistency, and selfishness and betrayal — the mess of our human heart and what we have done to this season — and by becoming the Babe he took it all. 

That I can believe.

Christmas can be — Advent should be — about that recovery of our hearts.  But it is so difficult and intangible if we cannot slow down our spiritually corrupt minds and souls and be conscious of the mysterious and ancient ways of experiencing time and place in the spiritual realm.

Advent, in the high church, was meant to begin the sacred year because it begins with anticipating the Babe.  The Church also uses the act of remembering those Saints whose lives are an example to us all.  For me, it is easy to look at those throughout history who were Saints and Martyrs of the church and believe.  The act of remembering, through liturgy and worship whether corporate or in isolation, is beautiful and sweet.  But it is the actions we take — today, now — “the physical gestures, prayers, or other customs — that make faith a tangible presence.”  This is the Babe — the incarnation — this is why we offer our worship. 

Advent is the time when we prepare for the mystery of the Babe — the arrival of God with us — God incarnate.  My heart wrestles with the truth as my actions seem to do something else.  It’s relentless — the gluttony of the Thanksgiving meal, then the shopping, endless carols playing on every radio, the searching for “happy” — that at a certain point I shut down. 

And that is where I find myself today.

Advent seems that is should be more solemn, a time of anticipating.  The mystery and miracle of Christmas is the Babe’s birth. We are challenged to be winnowing and sifting in our heart and preparing ourselves for when He comes.    And it becomes clear that we are simply searching for God in all of our flurry and activity. 

Almost a thousand years ago, St. Anselm of Canterbury said:

“God is that greater than which cannot be thought.” 

God is Inconceivable.  Incomprehensible.  Unbelievable.  That is our God.  That is (perhaps) why God came in the form of the Babe — Immanuel, which means “God with us.”  As I sit here wrestling with the truth that I have to work to find him, God is here.  With us.  Searching for us, some say.  God is not lost.  We have become lost — so distracted by the eating and drinking and shopping and giving and receiving, the singing and serving — lost by it all.

Advent means coming.  Christ came.  Christ comes.  Christ will come again.  In this Advent season, as we search for the Babe, we only need to understand more fully what that means.  “God is enfleshed in our humanity.” 

We only need to wake up and receive the gift that is already given, the fact that we are found by Emmanuel, God with us.

MH

——————————————–

Called to Be Human: LETTERS TO MY CHILDREN ON LIVING A CHRISTIAN LIFE, Michael Jinkins.

GOD WITH US: Rediscovering the Meaning of Christmas, authored by Scott Cairns, Emilie Griffin, Richard John Neuhaus, Kathleen Norris, Eugene Peterson, Luci Shaw.  Edited by Greg Pennoyer & Gregory Wolfe.

it’s 4:59 am, and you disintegrated slowly [A Poem]

Daddy, I miss you. I really do!  I try not to,
because I think I am still mad at you.
I’ve got a nice fat file at the UW Department of Psychiatry to prove it.

I glanced at the back of the room and saw you
sitting there.  With your grin,
how I lived to see that grin of pleasure.
It made the whole world feel r i g h t.
A belly laugh, so unexpected.
As if you were filled
with nothing but pleasure,
oh how I loved your laugh.
There is still so much goodness in you Dad
To be remembered — Passion.  Faith.  Hope.
I glanced over and saw you sitting there.

I want to remember you Dad, before I forget.
When the alarm tweeted at 4:59am,
and you disintegrated slowly,
as I woke and was left
full of longing; I am overwhelmed
by how much I miss you.

In life, I mostly felt your disappointment and my lack.
Perhaps it was your distractions, so important, God’s work
… coupled with a fear that you had.
You didn’t measure up

either.

Oh, in a crisis, if life was falling apart,
of course you were there
and would have honestly and truly,
if you could have, moved mountains to help.  But if not,
if life were NOT falling apart, you were busy doing the “Lord’s Work.”
This should have been okay, could have even been healthy,
if — the damage wasn’t already done.

I want to be lifted from the mire of that gloomy, infested death hole.
I want to be living not impulsively and with my FEAR overcoming EACH AND EVERY WORD.
Not assuming others only tolerate me.
Not speaking with a mute’s stutter.
Not breathing in constant fear.
Not stifling a scream.
I want to live healed, anointed.
I want to believe that you loved me
and are still hoping for me to have
the fullest,
the most joyful and gut-busting,

irrationally ecstatic, good LIFE.

You are no longer here.  And yet you linger in my dreams.
What are you dreaming
for me?

MH 12-9-2010

My father, Dan Harrison, died of brain cancer about eight years ago.  He joined my dream last night in a strange way.  Just sitting there, in the back of a room full of people.  As he often did.  He glanced up and I found myself saying to my sisters “Dad’s not gone.  He’s right over there.” Sometimes I do wonder if people linger in between this world and the next — hoping, wishing, praying even nudging.  I have no theology for this but I do wonder.

My father had a profound effect on me.  There are times when I believe that I did not truly begin living until he died.  At the least I experienced a new life after he died.  There are pages of this story here on my blog.  Many many poems and other thoughts, insights, lessons found here.  It is not completely a story of a broken person, because I found in a true way Christ’s love and that overcame all my sorrows.  I work for and pray for Shalom.

Waiting? I don’t think so.

Waiting.   We hardly know what to do with waiting in our culture.

Waiting on things makes me frustrated and sometimes even angry.  I want doctors to be on time, fast food lines to be, well, fast, children to be efficient, packages in the mail to be on schedule — all of it irks me.  I cannot stand to wait.  I do wait.  I will wait.  I am learning but American culture seems to feed the beast of impatience.

Do I then bring this attitude to my time with God?  Do I have a low-level contempt despite all that He has done for me?  I am all too often anxious and uncertain — querulous within.  Doubting that He will speak, even though He has proven himself in the past.  How dare I feel impatient with God, when I cannot some days slow down enough to breathe Him in?

I waited patiently for the LORD;

And He inclined to me and heard my cry.

He brought me up out of the pit of destruction,

out of the miry clay,

And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.

He put a new song in my mouth,

a song of praise to our God;

Psalm 40.1-2 NASB

What does it mean to know that God is willing by the Holy Spirit to speak to you?  Would you cease striving so hard to know this and that and open up your soul to God to work?

Andrew Murray, in Waiting on God said:

Would God that we might get some right conception of what the influence would be of a life given, not in thought, or imagination, or effort, but in the power of the Holy Spirit, wholly to waiting upon God.”1

Hold thy peace at the presence of the Lord God.

Zephaniah 1.7 NIV

Our waiting cannot be a ‘means to an end.’  But when you come before God and realize that all you want is His presence, then perhaps the spirit of knowing will come.  It will be nothing you have experienced before, where time slows and you are stunned, awed by the moment of being so full of Him.

” …humble the soul into a holy stillness, making way for God to speak and reveal Himself.

“Let everyone who would learn the art of waiting on God remember the lesson: ‘Take heed, and be quiet;’ ‘It is good that a man quietly wait.’ Take time to be separate from all friends and all duties, all cares and all joys; time to be still and quiet before God.

“Take time not only to secure stillness from man and the world, but from self and its energy. Let the Word and prayer be very precious; but remember, even these may hinder the quiet waiting. The activity of the mind in studying the Word, or giving expression to its thoughts in prayer, the activities of the heart, with its desires and hopes and fears, may so engage us that we do not come to the still waiting on the All-Glorious One; our whole being is not prostrate in silence before Him.

“Though at first it may appear difficult to know how thus quietly to wait, with the activities of mind and heart for a time subdued, every effort after it will be rewarded; we shall find that it grows upon us, and the little season of silent worship will bring a peace and a rest that give a blessing not only in prayer, but all the day.”1

Waiting.  Our mind & spirit in everyday life are constantly, impatiently even angrily waiting for God to work.

He only asks for “a quiet reverence, an abiding watching.”

“‘It is good that a man should quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.’ Yes, it is good. The quietness is the confession of our impotence, that with all our willing and running, with all our thinking and praying, it will not be done: we must receive it from God. It is the confession of our trust that our God will in His time come to our help—the quiet resting in Him alone. It is the confession of our desire to sink into our nothingness, and to let Him work and reveal Himself.”1

If you knew that God

through the power of the Holy Spirit would meet you, would be waiting for you, would go against the world and wake in the dark of the night to be with Him.  I have seen that a whole new life will come.

MHH

1 Murray, Andrew.  Waiting on God.

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.

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

be the gatherer of our dreams (a celtic prayer)

From the Celtic Daily Prayerbook.

I cannot speak, unless you loose my tongue;
I can only stammer, and speak with uncertainty;
but if you touch my mouth, my Lord,
then I will sing the story of your wonders!

Teach me to hear that story,
through each person,
to cradle a sense of wonder in their life,
to honor the hard-earned wisdom of their sufferings,
to waken their joy that the king of all kings stoops down to wash their feet
and looking up into their face says, ‘I know – I understand’.

This world has become a world of broken dreams
where dreamers are hard to find and friends are few.
Lord, be the gatherer of our dreams.

You set the countless stars in place,
and found room for each of them to shine.
You listen for us in your heaven-bright hall,
open our mouths to tell our tales of wonders.
Teach us again the greatest story ever;
The one who made the worlds became a little, helpless child,
then grew to be a carpenter with dark-seeing eyes. 
In time, the Carpenter began to travel, in every village
challenging the people to leave behind their selfish ways,
be washed in living water, and let God be their king. 
The ordinary people crowded round him
frightened to miss a word that he was speaking. 
Bringing their friends, their children, all the sick and tired,
so everyone could meet him,
everyone be touched and given life.
Some religious people were embarrassed,
they did not like the company he kept,
and never knew just what He would do next.
He said, “How dare you wrap God up in good behavior,
and tell the poor they should be like you?
How can you live at ease with riches and success
while those I love go hungry and are oppressed?
It really is for such a time as this that I was given breath.”

You Change My Dreams (a poem)

All of my life, and even in my dreams

I find myself searching.

Dream after dream – night after night – year after year I find I am

often longing.  Longing for love.

Today, as I heard myself once again asking why,

I see that you can fill that life long yearning.

You are the seeker.  The changer.

The one who transforms.

You fill me with hope.  You are

The healer.

You long for me.  You change my dreams.

May you find me

day after day – night after night – year after year – even in my dreams

full of longing for you.  May it be so.

Written 3/21/2010 in response to/during a sermon by Chris Dolson on Luke 19 “Jesus Inspires Change”

Forgive like you have been forgiven – 70×7

Description unavailable
Image by M e l o d y via Flickr

“It is not easy to forgive,…but bitterness is corrosive. Like a container filled with salt, it will destroy everything because the Lord cannot forgive us if we cannot forgive others. Life is wonderful if we let God heal us.

I am thinking and mulling about forgiveness and a poem I have been asked to write.  I have never written a poem this way, so I’ve been anxious about it.  Part of the problem is that God has kicked my butt on the topic of forgiveness and I’m learning a mile a minute.

Some of the prose I wrote earlier on my blog were only the beginning.  Who knew!  It’s a difficult but good experience and I look forward (that doesn’t seem to be the right word) to seeing the outcomes in the form of a poem. (I do not envy preachers, as whatever topic you are preaching on the Lord would be convicting you about in your own life.)  I have been given several opportunities lately to ponder and carry out (or not – we always have the choice) the act of mercy.  The act of forgiving.

Sometimes we fail.  Sometimes the things we struggle with from our past seem bigger than that seemingly puny thing – the act of forgiving.  I think it’s a strange thing and it is not a human act.  I can intellectually decide that I want to forgive my father because it would be good for me and I believe in it out of religious conviction.  But it is only in that miraculous moment that it becomes something.  I choose, God works and God’s timing is unknowable.  We obey, we open our heart, we clear our mind, we “say” to God ‘take this x, y, and z because I’m sick and tired of it’ and in some incredible, unknowable, magical, miracle it is done.

The power of this miracle in my life — in my faith, relationships and personal health has changed me as a person.  How forgiveness has changed you?

This is not my typical way of writing a poem.  My poems erupt out of the experiences of my life.  This thoughtfulness and care is good and difficult.

70×7. Unimaginable in some situations.

I will continue to write and see what comes.  I am hoping a poem, but we’ll see.

Here’s a link to something else I’ve written about forgiveness recently which you may have read.

The quotation above is from an incredible article I read on the Faith & Leadership website at Duke University. A description and an excerpt is below.

After her daughter was kidnapped by the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda, Angelina Atyam realized that her mission was not just to secure the child’s release, but to forgive her captors and work for peace and reconciliation.

by Sherry Williamson

Sevens surface as a motif throughout the transformation of “Mama Angelina” from a soft-spoken nurse-midwife and mother of six to an international activist seeking the release of all Uganda’s abducted children.

Atyam’s daughter was among an estimated 35,000 youth, some as young as 6, that the Ugandan government believes were abducted by the LRA during nearly 20 years of fighting. From 1987 until a ceasefire was signed in 2006, the LRA used children as human shields in battles with government troops. Boys were forced to become soldiers; girls were enslaved as “wives” to rebel leaders.

The path Atyam pursued to negotiate the children’s release — and to further peace and reconciliation within her country — was inconceivable for many other parents, but she was resolute. Guided by the Lord’s prayer, she and other parents of abducted children began to pray for forgiveness of the rebel soldiers.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]