Not Feelin' It

Deep breath. I'm about to share things I may regret. I'm nervous. I feel shaky. I wish I was kidding. I'm not.

I have often alluded to the fact that I struggled with depression in the past, but I haven't shared much about it in detail. The truth is that 97% of the time, I don't think a thing about it. It's in the past and I'm happy for it to stay there. Then, I have weeks like last week and the issue takes center stage in my life once again. The issue. Not sure that is really the word to describe it, but I don't know what else to call it. The illness? The sickness? The thing I dread more than anything else in the world? You can insert whatever word you want there, but no matter what we call it, it's bad.

The Thursday before last I found myself at the dr.'s office. I've been having some other issues (not to be confused with the depression "issue") and I expected to be given some medicince and sent home, like normal. Well, I actually ended up at the hospital having a CT done because the dr. was concerned I had appendicitis. Thankfully that was not the case, but nevertheless I still had to be put on medication. Just a run of the mill antibiotic, mind you, but unfortunately it had a very bad side effect for me. Depression. Did you know antibiotics could cause that? I guess I feel that it is my duty to warn you. I googled it (too many days late) and found this: : There have been reported cases of psychosis, suicide attempts, panic attacks and acute anxiety, all occurring during or shortly after ciprofloxacin treatment.[citation needed] Patients with previous or current psychiatric conditions, are prone to experiencing this type of side effect. Caution is highly advised.

Why do I share this? Well, I really hope it will provide some education and understanding on this subject. Mostly, that depression really is a physical and chemical illness. You see, I have really struggled with this. I have shared many times that God healed my depression and so any time I have any kind of relapse it causes me to have lots of fear and doubt. Am I really healed? Have I lied about this? The truth is, I still wholeheartedly believe that God healed me of a very serious depression I experienced for several years. Josh continually assures me that I am not the same person and believe me, if anybody knows, it is him. The thing I have had to realize though is that this is ,in a sense, my thorn in the flesh. I know that God did an amazing healing work in my life as far as weeding out some painful emotional and sin issues. I do believe that there are times when depression is the result of emotional heartache or even sometimes sin our lives. In fact, I believe that there are usually several issues at work if depression gets to a point that it is serious enough to affect your everyday life.

I was nineteen when I was diagnosed. It was just a few days before I returned to college to start my sophomore year and I went for a routine physical. It was the first time in my whole life that I went to the dr. by myself, without  my Mom. Well, somehow I left from that routine physical with a prescription for Zoloft. I had had a rough summer, but it was my first summer home after being at school for a year. A lot had changed and I had blamed my frequent crying spells on that. You have to understand that I have a significant family  history of depression and the fact that a dr. hadn't already prescribed an anti-depressant for me was probably a miracle. Still, when I think back I really don't know that I was legitimately in need of medication. Whether I was or not, I began to take it and things just got worse. A few years later the FDA would put out a warning that Zoloft was not recommended for teens and young adults as it caused suicidal thoughts. I learned that the hard way without any realization that the medicine was to blame. I just thought I had gone totally crazy. Thankfully I let my Mom know when I began having scary thoughts and she made sure I went to see a new dr. He was supposed to be one of the best in town but all he did was up my dosage. It worked great at keeping my angry outburts and scary thoughts away. Mostly because it made me completely numb. I just became like a zombie. To this day if I see myself in pictures I can look at my eyes and tell that I wasn't there. Emily had left the building....

Things got worse from there, but thankfully there was healing. It's a story much too long to tell here. The thing is, it's a story I'd rather just forget about altogether. Every now and then something will bring it up. Just in the last couple of weeks I had a revelation about the fact that I really go overboard a lot of times trying to prove that I'm not depressed anymore. It displays itself as pride. I don't need help. I can do it all on my own. The truth is, I can't all the time and it is a good thing I realized that. Me needing help every now and then does not equal me being depressed again. There are also times when pride is an issue because I feel so confident in the change in my life. It is easy to think that I overcame my depression by sheer willpower and I must be a very strong person. Then, I take an antibiotic and zombie Emily comes back into the picture. I don't feel like talking. I don't feel like thinking. I don't feel like myself. I feel hopeless, sad, angry, numb, fat, ugly, stupid, and without purpose. Mentally I tell myself that these things are not true. I KNOW the truth of what God says about me. I know I have purpose. I know I am not a withdrawn, antisocial, angry person. I know I should feel thankful and excited about things that are happening in my life. But I can't FEEL it. That is depression, y'all.
 
I would rather pretend that I didn't experience this. Just get back on here and post a million pics of my sister's visit and the finished playroom. Because those things should have been fun and exciting. Emily would have been excited about them. But Emily had left the building. I am so relieved to be finished with that medicine today and I assure you, I will not take it again in the future! I am so thankful for the healing that God has brought in my life, and yet I realize that this will most likely always be a struggle for me. Depression is in my genes the same way diabetes and heart disease are. I think that knowledge is coming to light in our society, but I think we are still having trouble grasping it. Soon after God healed my depression I was at a church event where the speaker made the comment that people who were depressed were selfish and self-absorbed. It broke my heart. Not for me, but for anyone in that room who might be struggling with it. Let's face it, we all struggle with selfishness to some degree. It is part of the human condition. And I know there have been times I've been down because I've let myself be discontent or overly consumed with myself. But I also know, especially after the experiences I've had with medications, that I can't control the fact that I'm predisposed to this condition any more than I can help being predisposed to diabetes. What I can control is how I educate myself. How I take care of myself. How I depend fully on the fact that my Heavenly Father is big enough  to heal me and big enough to sustain me through any struggles I face.
 
At some point after my Dad died my mother-in-law called to tell me that I had been on her heart and she wanted to share something with me that she had read. This was it:
 
"I love Jesus. I don't say that in a cutesy, blase way. I don't mean it in a "I pray when people I love are sick in the hospital" way or a "praise Jesus when I get what I want" way. I mean with all of my being I love who He was and who He is. I don't just love Him, but I trust Him. I trust Him with my heart, soul, mind, body, family, children, and my future. I don't trust Him because He protected me from all pain and suffering or kept my life free of all trials. I trust Him because has been with me all along the way.
 
He has held my hand, held me in His arms, carried me, prayed for me, and He has seen who I will be, all the while loving me right where I am. He has given me grace, mercy, forgiveness, healing and new life. He has turned my sadness into joy, my mourning into dancing, and my sorrow into peace. He took a time in my life that I was sure would separate me from Him and everyone I love and used it to draw me closer to Him and teach me about a kind of love I don't think I could have learned any other way.
 
I know that I have chosen to share my story because I feel that is why God healed me. I would be doing a disservice to His glory if I kept my experienes locked away."
 
As she read the first part I was thinking that it sounded familiar and by the end I was in tears. This is my story. About a year and a half ago I felt led to write out the story of my depression and healing. I sat down at the dining room table in my pajamas and the kids destroyed my house while I wrote non-stop for two days. I wasn't sure what God wanted me to do with it, but I knew that first of all I needed to share it with those who were closest to me and had lived through that time with me. That was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It may sound crazy to y'all since I blog all of my thoughts and feelings regularly (most of them :), but I felt extremely vulnerable sharing these things with my family. I knew it would be hard for them to read about things even they didn't know. I'm glad now I did. I still have an e-mail from my Dad telling me how proud he was and that he knew my story would help a lot of other people. It is the only reason I keep coming back to the decision that I should share it.
 
Tonight, I pray that some sense can be made out my rambling. I pray that if you are struggling with depression you will know you are not alone and that there is hope. If you know someone who is struggling I pray it will encourage you to love on them in a new way and see their situation in a different light. If you have experienced God's grace, mercy and deliverance in any way in your life, I pray it will challenge you to reach out to others and share your story. It's why God gave it to you.
 
P.S. Many of you know that after my Dad passed the verse that I clung to was Psalm 34:18, "The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart,And saves such as have a contrite spirit." As I pulled out a copy of my story tonight for the first time in close to a year, I read a quote I started the epilogue with. It said, "God is closest to those with broken hearts."  Jewish saying.   It seems important to Him that I remember those words.