Nope. I don't have baby fever. But I did LOVE this documentary - Babies. It's amazing, hilarious, mind-boggling and absolutely necessary for you to see. No narration. No words. Just scene after scene of the lives of four babies from four completely different cultures, living life as only a baby can do.
(Sorry that my layout cuts off part of the screen. If you want, here is the link as well.)
October 26, 2010
October 19, 2010
What every child needs
"When a child walks in the room, your child or anybody else’s child, do your eyes light up? That’s what they’re looking for."
- Toni Morrison
I have had a heavy heart over the past few weeks regarding school. A few weeks ago, I gave my kids an activity where they were to go around to other students in the classroom asking the question "Do you like science/math/english/etc... class?" or "Do you like the science/math/english/etc.. teacher?"
I made this worksheet quickly, part of a worksheet making marathon that Monday, so I wasn't thinking super deeply about the details or consequences of the worksheet. Therefore, I quickly listed all of the classes they were currently learning: English, Art, Math, Science, History, and, of course, Spanish.
Why did I do this? I have no idea. It wasn't smart. Especially because I was already feeling rather fragile and frazzled at the time.
I'm sure I don't need to tell you what happened, but I will anyways. I walked around the classroom during this activity, and to my deep, gut-wrenching dismay, nobody liked Spanish class. Even worse - nobody liked me.
I tried not to take this seriously. I joked about how they weren't going to hurt my feelings, they could answer honestly. But, honestly, it did hurt my feelings. And it thrust me into a few weeks of a pity party/time of deep reflection/depression.
WHY DO MY KIDS HATE ME?
My kids hate me.
Everybody Hates Me.
This is what was floating through my mind for days. The mantra as I fell asleep, the first thought when I woke up. I'm working my tush off for these kids, and they hate me. They hate my class. This is all meaningless.
So, to be honest, there were three things going on here.
The first thing is that I still hadn't gotten over my distinct and serious desire for people to like me. I have never been popular. I wasn't popular in middle school. I wasn't popular in high school. I wasn't popular in college. I don't know why I thought this would change, but for some reason I still had this deep desire to be liked. And when I realized I didn't have it, a little part of my pathetic self died inside. I would have told you that I didn't care if kids "liked" me, I just cared that they learned. I think I even said something like that in my interviews for LPS. But I guess when the rubber hit the road, my words had gotten ahead of me. My heart wasn't quite there yet.
The second thing going on - the more important, less pathetic, factor - is that I truly wanted these kids to learn. But in middle school, kids aren't extremely motivated to learn. At least not most of them. There are those few intrinsically motivated kids (like I was) that love to learn and achieve and get A's and work the very hardest they can possible work in order to achieve perfection. We teacher's don't need to worry about those kids. They practically teach themselves.
The kids we focus on are the ones that don't care. They don't care to learn Spanish, they don't care how hard you worked on the lesson, and they even don't really care what grade they get. Not really. These are the ones we focus on. To get these kids hooked, honestly, they have to buy into what you're selling. If I can't sell them Spanish, then I need to sell myself. I need for them to care enough about me that they're willing to work hard for me. And this was my problem. I was seeing a lot of attitude in class because the kids didn't care about me.
The third thing - the most important thing - was the whole reason I came to work at Park, was that I wanted to make a difference in the lives of these young humans. And I realized with this whole experience that I wasn't impacting kids. I was so stressed and frazzled and focused on getting the curriculum shoved down the kids' throats that I forgot the whole mission, the point of being there. These kids have big issues - poverty, abuse, abandonment, drug use (them and their parents) and much more. Learning is important, but so is being cared for.
"The family abode should be a safe and sacred sanctuary where
children can learn and be nourished." - Saundra Pelletier
The truth is, most of these kids don't have safe and sacred homes that are a sanctuary for them. And for five hours a week, I have the chance to offer them a sanctuary, a place to be nurtured and cared for.
Toni Morrison said that what every child needs - more than correction or guidance or a good kick in the pants - is to know that your eyes light up when they enter the room.
This is my new goal. I may not change the world. I may not make a huge impact in every life. And I may have to taste the bitterness of failure throughout the year in terms of academics. But my new goal for the rest of the year is for my students to know that I look forward to seeing them everyday - that they matter to me - and hopefully they will begin to see that when they enter the room each day - bringing in baggage and attitudes and smelly gym clothes - that my eyes truly do light up.
- Toni Morrison
I have had a heavy heart over the past few weeks regarding school. A few weeks ago, I gave my kids an activity where they were to go around to other students in the classroom asking the question "Do you like science/math/english/etc... class?" or "Do you like the science/math/english/etc.. teacher?"
I made this worksheet quickly, part of a worksheet making marathon that Monday, so I wasn't thinking super deeply about the details or consequences of the worksheet. Therefore, I quickly listed all of the classes they were currently learning: English, Art, Math, Science, History, and, of course, Spanish.
Why did I do this? I have no idea. It wasn't smart. Especially because I was already feeling rather fragile and frazzled at the time.
I'm sure I don't need to tell you what happened, but I will anyways. I walked around the classroom during this activity, and to my deep, gut-wrenching dismay, nobody liked Spanish class. Even worse - nobody liked me.
I tried not to take this seriously. I joked about how they weren't going to hurt my feelings, they could answer honestly. But, honestly, it did hurt my feelings. And it thrust me into a few weeks of a pity party/time of deep reflection/depression.
WHY DO MY KIDS HATE ME?
My kids hate me.
Everybody Hates Me.
This is what was floating through my mind for days. The mantra as I fell asleep, the first thought when I woke up. I'm working my tush off for these kids, and they hate me. They hate my class. This is all meaningless.
So, to be honest, there were three things going on here.
The first thing is that I still hadn't gotten over my distinct and serious desire for people to like me. I have never been popular. I wasn't popular in middle school. I wasn't popular in high school. I wasn't popular in college. I don't know why I thought this would change, but for some reason I still had this deep desire to be liked. And when I realized I didn't have it, a little part of my pathetic self died inside. I would have told you that I didn't care if kids "liked" me, I just cared that they learned. I think I even said something like that in my interviews for LPS. But I guess when the rubber hit the road, my words had gotten ahead of me. My heart wasn't quite there yet.
The second thing going on - the more important, less pathetic, factor - is that I truly wanted these kids to learn. But in middle school, kids aren't extremely motivated to learn. At least not most of them. There are those few intrinsically motivated kids (like I was) that love to learn and achieve and get A's and work the very hardest they can possible work in order to achieve perfection. We teacher's don't need to worry about those kids. They practically teach themselves.
The kids we focus on are the ones that don't care. They don't care to learn Spanish, they don't care how hard you worked on the lesson, and they even don't really care what grade they get. Not really. These are the ones we focus on. To get these kids hooked, honestly, they have to buy into what you're selling. If I can't sell them Spanish, then I need to sell myself. I need for them to care enough about me that they're willing to work hard for me. And this was my problem. I was seeing a lot of attitude in class because the kids didn't care about me.
The third thing - the most important thing - was the whole reason I came to work at Park, was that I wanted to make a difference in the lives of these young humans. And I realized with this whole experience that I wasn't impacting kids. I was so stressed and frazzled and focused on getting the curriculum shoved down the kids' throats that I forgot the whole mission, the point of being there. These kids have big issues - poverty, abuse, abandonment, drug use (them and their parents) and much more. Learning is important, but so is being cared for.
"The family abode should be a safe and sacred sanctuary where
children can learn and be nourished." - Saundra Pelletier
The truth is, most of these kids don't have safe and sacred homes that are a sanctuary for them. And for five hours a week, I have the chance to offer them a sanctuary, a place to be nurtured and cared for.
Toni Morrison said that what every child needs - more than correction or guidance or a good kick in the pants - is to know that your eyes light up when they enter the room.
This is my new goal. I may not change the world. I may not make a huge impact in every life. And I may have to taste the bitterness of failure throughout the year in terms of academics. But my new goal for the rest of the year is for my students to know that I look forward to seeing them everyday - that they matter to me - and hopefully they will begin to see that when they enter the room each day - bringing in baggage and attitudes and smelly gym clothes - that my eyes truly do light up.
October 12, 2010
thanks.filled
A year ago this time I was walking through the toughest, most agonizing, most depressed season of my life. Tonight I was thinking about my husband, about how amazing of a man he is, about how thankful I am for this beautiful gift God gave to me.
What I love most about Jeremy is that he loves people so well. He sees me for who Jesus made me to be, the woman I am becoming. He has always fought for me, always held out hope for me when I thought all hope was lost. He is such a man of faith. Within the first two months of dating me he walked with me through the third most difficult depression I have ever faced. Two weeks after proposing to me, he walked with me through the second most difficult depression. Three weeks before our wedding, he walked with me through my bipolar diagnosis. And two weeks after we got married, he walked with me through the deepest, darkest, longest depression I have (and hope to ever) face. He trusted God through every season, and always seemed so thankful to be a part of my life, even when I was depressed and had nothing to offer. He always has treated me like I am a precious gift, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how helpless and hopeless I may be.
A year ago, we went out into the country on a therapy-date and took these pictures - at that time, I found hope in capturing beauty outside of me. That was the hardest autumn of my life, but surprisingly, that fall holds some of my sweetest memories. I have never felt more fully loved, cared for, or cherished.
I am so proud of Jeremy, and so extremely blessed to call him mine. Being loved with a love like this changes a person forever. I will never be the same.
What I love most about Jeremy is that he loves people so well. He sees me for who Jesus made me to be, the woman I am becoming. He has always fought for me, always held out hope for me when I thought all hope was lost. He is such a man of faith. Within the first two months of dating me he walked with me through the third most difficult depression I have ever faced. Two weeks after proposing to me, he walked with me through the second most difficult depression. Three weeks before our wedding, he walked with me through my bipolar diagnosis. And two weeks after we got married, he walked with me through the deepest, darkest, longest depression I have (and hope to ever) face. He trusted God through every season, and always seemed so thankful to be a part of my life, even when I was depressed and had nothing to offer. He always has treated me like I am a precious gift, no matter what the circumstances, no matter how helpless and hopeless I may be.
A year ago, we went out into the country on a therapy-date and took these pictures - at that time, I found hope in capturing beauty outside of me. That was the hardest autumn of my life, but surprisingly, that fall holds some of my sweetest memories. I have never felt more fully loved, cared for, or cherished.
I am so proud of Jeremy, and so extremely blessed to call him mine. Being loved with a love like this changes a person forever. I will never be the same.
October 4, 2010
"How did you feel after you finished taking the test on Friday?"
--"Like I don't know Spanish."
--"That I don't know a lot."
--"I felt happy and smart."
--"Hungry."
--"Bored."
--"Glad I didn't have homework."
--"That I don't know a lot."
--"I felt happy and smart."
--"Hungry."
--"Bored."
--"Glad I didn't have homework."
September 13, 2010
ultimate resolve
This past weekend at church, I shared my story about depression with the church family. It was one of 12 stories highlighted during a video presentation at the end of the service. It was a short clip, basically in which I expressed the depth of sorrow and sadness I have experienced, and how lonely and despairing my bouts with depression have been. I wish you could see it. I feel like it really captured my heart in terms of what I have actually been through, what I would say to people about it if I had less than 2 minutes to share with them about my depression.
What I liked most about the way the story was told was that it shared the struggle, but not the resolution. There was no happy ending, no bow to tie at the end of the story, no quick fix. After our video played, we walked up to the stage with a representation of our struggle (mine was a black cloak - "I lived in darkness") and laid it at the foot of a cross.
It was so symbolic of what every day is like for me. There is no fix to my life. This isn't over. The story is still going on, and there could possibly be a lot of twists and turns in the road in the future... but the common theme throughout the rest of my life will be the same thing I did yesterday at the service. I will continue to lay my burden at the foot of the cross, and I will take up the burden that Jesus asks me to carry - His burden is light - and I will follow Him. I will hope in Him. I will choose to trust Him every day, even when the doubts and worries cloud my mind. I will continue to lay it at the cross, where he defeated sin and death and depression and doubt and fear. He has the victory, and so then do I. Still fighting the battle, but ultimately victorious.
There is no quick fix. But there is an end to the story. I picture if often. Me, standing face to face with Jesus, tears in my eyes (like there are now), Him looking at me with the knowledge of all I have known, and Him seeing me - fully seeing me - and finding me beautiful and complete in Him. The struggle will be over at that time. My journey will be complete, but also just beginning, for I will just have started to truly know Jesus. Our journey will continue, and I will live in eternal hope and peace at that time.
This is what I hope for when times get tough. I hope for the hug from Jesus that lets me know that it was all worth it, that I fought a good fight, that I ran the race with endurance. So now, I stumble and fall. But I press on with the hope and knowledge that Jesus sees me, knows me, and finds beauty in my journey right here, right now.
What I liked most about the way the story was told was that it shared the struggle, but not the resolution. There was no happy ending, no bow to tie at the end of the story, no quick fix. After our video played, we walked up to the stage with a representation of our struggle (mine was a black cloak - "I lived in darkness") and laid it at the foot of a cross.
It was so symbolic of what every day is like for me. There is no fix to my life. This isn't over. The story is still going on, and there could possibly be a lot of twists and turns in the road in the future... but the common theme throughout the rest of my life will be the same thing I did yesterday at the service. I will continue to lay my burden at the foot of the cross, and I will take up the burden that Jesus asks me to carry - His burden is light - and I will follow Him. I will hope in Him. I will choose to trust Him every day, even when the doubts and worries cloud my mind. I will continue to lay it at the cross, where he defeated sin and death and depression and doubt and fear. He has the victory, and so then do I. Still fighting the battle, but ultimately victorious.
There is no quick fix. But there is an end to the story. I picture if often. Me, standing face to face with Jesus, tears in my eyes (like there are now), Him looking at me with the knowledge of all I have known, and Him seeing me - fully seeing me - and finding me beautiful and complete in Him. The struggle will be over at that time. My journey will be complete, but also just beginning, for I will just have started to truly know Jesus. Our journey will continue, and I will live in eternal hope and peace at that time.
This is what I hope for when times get tough. I hope for the hug from Jesus that lets me know that it was all worth it, that I fought a good fight, that I ran the race with endurance. So now, I stumble and fall. But I press on with the hope and knowledge that Jesus sees me, knows me, and finds beauty in my journey right here, right now.
August 15, 2010
One year
One year ago today I committed my life to my best friend, the man I knew God had reserved just for me, my amazing husband, Jeremy.
This weekend, we were planning on celebrating our anniversary in Omaha. We were all packed up driving out of town, but my husband missed the turn to Omaha. I lovingly pointed out to him that we were going the wrong way and he grinned at me and said "Isn't this the way to Omaha?!" I looked at him, clueless, and he surprised me with "we're going to Kansas City!"
Now I know to some this may not be a big deal, but I have never been to Kansas city and have long talked about wanting to go shopping in the plaza. So my husband took me to Kansas City where we stayed two nights at a delightful hotel. And on saturday, he gave me (lots of) money to go on a little teacher-clothes shopping spree. It was SO much fun! What an amazing husband, right?
And then, on top of that, I opened up my gift this morning- a pair of diamond earrings! He's a keeper.
Anyways, it was a beautiful weekend of eating and loving and shopping and eating some more. It was a great way to celebrate what has been for us a very adventure-filled and delightful year.
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| We ate our wedding topper today- it was actually still pretty tasty. |
Happy anniversary, darling. Thanks for an amazing 365 days. Here's to thousands more!
July 28, 2010
When the darkness will not lift...
"Where should you start? Start at the easiest place for those in darkness. Start with despair. Despair of finding any answer in yourself. I pray that you will cease from all efforts to look inside yourself for the rescue you need. I pray that you will do what only desperate people can do, namely, cast yourself on Christ. May you say to him, 'You are my only hope.' " [When the darkness will not lift, John Piper, pg. 21]
I think what Piper writes about here is a key aspect of actually surviving depression. Acknowledging that Jesus is our only hope doesn't mean that we will never again be depressed. It doesn't fix everything. It doesn't mean that we aren't in a pit. But what it does mean is that we know, even in the midst of sorrow, that Jesus is the only one who can rescue us from the darkness. And knowing this deep down, at least for me, helped me continue living in times when the despair was more than I thought I could bear.
The hope of Jesus Christ kept me going. It didn't keep me happy or keep depression from ever returning...but still, hope is hope. I believed in the secret parts of my heart that Jesus was faithful, that His mercies were new to me every morning, and that he loved me. I didn't always recite this to myself, but I believed it in the secret parts of my heart. And when I was desperate, I would somehow always end up in that dark, secret corner of my heart, and I would find that truth. With that truth came the peace to help me fall asleep in the arms of Jesus, or the strength to get me out of bed, a feat that I see now came only from God.
Believing this truth, that there is hope in Jesus, is one of the ultimate acts of faith a believer can face. It is a choice to believe that even though God does not currently appear to be doing anything to help the situation, He is indeed good, and He is indeed our perfect source of rescue, redemption and restoration. It's a choice to believe that he could do what it took to fix the situation, and so since he isn't, it's because this is something that God is choosing to let me experience. It sucks. I don't understand it. And I can't say that I always felt rosy feelings when I thought "God is good, even though He's not helping me be happy." But I do know that that thread of hope is what kept me going.
Piper continues on later in the book with an explanation on waiting for God to rescue us.
"One of the reasons why God loved David so much was that he cried so much. I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with weeping... It is a beautiful thing when a broken man genuinely cries out to God. Then after the cry, you wait. I waited patiently for the Lord. This is crucial to know: saints who cry out to the Lord for deliverance from pits of darkness must learn to wait patiently for the Lord. There is no statement about how long David waited. I have known saints who walked through eight years of debilitating depression and came out into glorious light. Only God knows how long we must wait... we can draw no deadlines for God. He hastens or He delays as he sees fit. And His timing is all-loving toward his children. Oh, that we might learn to be patient in the hour of darkness. I don't mean that we make peace with darkness. We fight for joy. But we fight as those who are saved by grace and held by Christ." [pg. 35-36]
I think that not knowing how long the depression will last is one of the cruelties of depression. If I knew that it would be over in a week, I doubt the depression would be as difficult. Sadness is sadness, yes, and it's never enjoyable. But not knowing whether you'll ever be happy again, whether you'll ever not cry yourself to sleep...well that is a mind game that can only be laid at the foot of the cross.
If you are a friend of someone who struggles with depression, this is one thing that I think is important to understand: God is absolutely a part of their struggle, and He, in His time, will provide rescue. This might not be good to actually say to the person who is struggling, but it is important for you to believe, as their friend, because you are an anchor in their life. You are there to believe the things that they cannot believe, to pray the prayers that they cannot pray, and to hold onto Jesus and hold onto them. You are a lifeline, an agent of grace in their time of darkness- no matter how long that may be. You are the hands of Jesus, and I think it is just as important for you to believe that rescue will indeed someday come as it is for them to believe it.
I'm not a huge fan of poetry, but I do love hymns, and this hymn that John Piper includes after he talks about waiting for God is absolutely beautiful.
Give to the winds thy fears,
Hope and be undismayed,
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,
God shall lift up thy head.
Through waves and clouds and storms,
He gently clears thy way;
Wait thou His time; so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day.
Far, far above thy thought,
His counsel shall appear,
When fully He the work hath wrought,
That caused thy needless fear.
Leave to His sovereign sway
To choose and to command;
So shalt thou, wondering, own that way,
How wise, how strong this hand.
I think what Piper writes about here is a key aspect of actually surviving depression. Acknowledging that Jesus is our only hope doesn't mean that we will never again be depressed. It doesn't fix everything. It doesn't mean that we aren't in a pit. But what it does mean is that we know, even in the midst of sorrow, that Jesus is the only one who can rescue us from the darkness. And knowing this deep down, at least for me, helped me continue living in times when the despair was more than I thought I could bear.
The hope of Jesus Christ kept me going. It didn't keep me happy or keep depression from ever returning...but still, hope is hope. I believed in the secret parts of my heart that Jesus was faithful, that His mercies were new to me every morning, and that he loved me. I didn't always recite this to myself, but I believed it in the secret parts of my heart. And when I was desperate, I would somehow always end up in that dark, secret corner of my heart, and I would find that truth. With that truth came the peace to help me fall asleep in the arms of Jesus, or the strength to get me out of bed, a feat that I see now came only from God.
Believing this truth, that there is hope in Jesus, is one of the ultimate acts of faith a believer can face. It is a choice to believe that even though God does not currently appear to be doing anything to help the situation, He is indeed good, and He is indeed our perfect source of rescue, redemption and restoration. It's a choice to believe that he could do what it took to fix the situation, and so since he isn't, it's because this is something that God is choosing to let me experience. It sucks. I don't understand it. And I can't say that I always felt rosy feelings when I thought "God is good, even though He's not helping me be happy." But I do know that that thread of hope is what kept me going.
Piper continues on later in the book with an explanation on waiting for God to rescue us.
"One of the reasons why God loved David so much was that he cried so much. I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with weeping... It is a beautiful thing when a broken man genuinely cries out to God. Then after the cry, you wait. I waited patiently for the Lord. This is crucial to know: saints who cry out to the Lord for deliverance from pits of darkness must learn to wait patiently for the Lord. There is no statement about how long David waited. I have known saints who walked through eight years of debilitating depression and came out into glorious light. Only God knows how long we must wait... we can draw no deadlines for God. He hastens or He delays as he sees fit. And His timing is all-loving toward his children. Oh, that we might learn to be patient in the hour of darkness. I don't mean that we make peace with darkness. We fight for joy. But we fight as those who are saved by grace and held by Christ." [pg. 35-36]
I think that not knowing how long the depression will last is one of the cruelties of depression. If I knew that it would be over in a week, I doubt the depression would be as difficult. Sadness is sadness, yes, and it's never enjoyable. But not knowing whether you'll ever be happy again, whether you'll ever not cry yourself to sleep...well that is a mind game that can only be laid at the foot of the cross.
If you are a friend of someone who struggles with depression, this is one thing that I think is important to understand: God is absolutely a part of their struggle, and He, in His time, will provide rescue. This might not be good to actually say to the person who is struggling, but it is important for you to believe, as their friend, because you are an anchor in their life. You are there to believe the things that they cannot believe, to pray the prayers that they cannot pray, and to hold onto Jesus and hold onto them. You are a lifeline, an agent of grace in their time of darkness- no matter how long that may be. You are the hands of Jesus, and I think it is just as important for you to believe that rescue will indeed someday come as it is for them to believe it.
I'm not a huge fan of poetry, but I do love hymns, and this hymn that John Piper includes after he talks about waiting for God is absolutely beautiful.
Give to the winds thy fears,
Hope and be undismayed,
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,
God shall lift up thy head.
Through waves and clouds and storms,
He gently clears thy way;
Wait thou His time; so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day.
Far, far above thy thought,
His counsel shall appear,
When fully He the work hath wrought,
That caused thy needless fear.
Leave to His sovereign sway
To choose and to command;
So shalt thou, wondering, own that way,
How wise, how strong this hand.
July 19, 2010
looking back
Here is something that I wrote back in April a year ago, not even a month after we got engaged. I had no reason to be sad. I was happier than I had ever been, looking forward to spending the rest of my life with an amazing man starting just four months from the time we got engaged. No, indeed I had no reason to be sad. But there I found myself. Here's what being sad for no reason felt like.
...April 30, 2009
Here I am again. So depressed. Numb. Not sure what it feels like to feel.
I’ve been “happy” for months…but when I look back at the past 6 months of my life, I see a lot of shallow happiness, and a void in the places where I used to think, ponder, and relate to God. Ever since I started taking meds to help “even out” my moods, I have felt weird. Stable. But not like a real person. Not a human with feelings.
Last week, I realized that in the busyness of school, I had put off reordering my meds and had gone two weeks (time flew by) without taking my meds. And we definitely noticed it. All of a sudden I wasn’t stable. I was weepy. Sad. Ridiculous. Depressed. Suicidal. Hopeless.
And I can’t help but wonder–is that who I really am?
I hate the fact that I can’t be happy without a pill. It scares me to think that my future “happiness”–if you call numbness happiness- depends on a little yellow pill.
Last night I told Jeremy the truth–that when I think about the future, I’m very afraid that it will find him sitting in a room alone, crying, wishing that last summer when I was depressed, he would have gotten out. Wishing he hadn’t married me.
I don’t know how it’s okay for anyone to feel the way that I do sometimes. It shouldn’t be possible to be this sad for no reason. To be so numb. So lifeless.
it’s weird, because even when I’m happy, I’m not really happy. Even when I feel good, I don’t really feel alive deep down.
I hear people say that spirituality isn’t about feelings, that you have to just read your Bible when you don’t feel like it, praise Him even when it doesn’t feel right. And I just wonder...would they say that if they knew what it was like to feel dead inside more often than not? Would they say that if they truly knew how it is to not feel anything except blah and numb? Because honestly, this isn’t about me not “liking” God. This is about not being able to enter into my own life. I feel like a spectator. A bystander. Like someone dreaming, watching themselves go through various activities, have conversations, “live life”...and from afar I find myself asking, Is that really me? Is this really my life?
I feel bad for my fiance. I think about ending my life for his sake. I know this isn’t logical, but it sometimes does feel like it would save him a lot of heartache. I’m sure it will be hard having a wife who is depressed for the rest of her life. I’m sure it will be heartbreaking to hear your children ask “why is mommy always so sad?” And I’m quite positive that having wife who doesn’t know how to relate to God, who doesn’t know how to function in a state other than numbness, surely isn’t a life to desire. How can a man walk toward marriage with a woman that is sure to be more of a burden than a help mate? How can he bear to see his dreams dwindle and fade in light of my struggles, in light of my deep limitations?
...happy spring.
here’s to hoping my spiritual winter will end someday too. for good.
...Looking back on this make me praise God from the depths of my heart for healing me. Though my life isn't perfect, and I still have fears when looking toward the future, I can't deny that God has taken care of me thus far, has preserved my life when ending it seemed the only logical move, and has set my feet on a rock. Even if I find myself in a pit someday in the future, having been there often in the past, I finally realize that Jesus will be there with me. And having the hope of Jesus being there with me makes the pit seem a bit less scary.
...April 30, 2009
Here I am again. So depressed. Numb. Not sure what it feels like to feel.
I’ve been “happy” for months…but when I look back at the past 6 months of my life, I see a lot of shallow happiness, and a void in the places where I used to think, ponder, and relate to God. Ever since I started taking meds to help “even out” my moods, I have felt weird. Stable. But not like a real person. Not a human with feelings.
Last week, I realized that in the busyness of school, I had put off reordering my meds and had gone two weeks (time flew by) without taking my meds. And we definitely noticed it. All of a sudden I wasn’t stable. I was weepy. Sad. Ridiculous. Depressed. Suicidal. Hopeless.
And I can’t help but wonder–is that who I really am?
I hate the fact that I can’t be happy without a pill. It scares me to think that my future “happiness”–if you call numbness happiness- depends on a little yellow pill.
Last night I told Jeremy the truth–that when I think about the future, I’m very afraid that it will find him sitting in a room alone, crying, wishing that last summer when I was depressed, he would have gotten out. Wishing he hadn’t married me.
I don’t know how it’s okay for anyone to feel the way that I do sometimes. It shouldn’t be possible to be this sad for no reason. To be so numb. So lifeless.
it’s weird, because even when I’m happy, I’m not really happy. Even when I feel good, I don’t really feel alive deep down.
I hear people say that spirituality isn’t about feelings, that you have to just read your Bible when you don’t feel like it, praise Him even when it doesn’t feel right. And I just wonder...would they say that if they knew what it was like to feel dead inside more often than not? Would they say that if they truly knew how it is to not feel anything except blah and numb? Because honestly, this isn’t about me not “liking” God. This is about not being able to enter into my own life. I feel like a spectator. A bystander. Like someone dreaming, watching themselves go through various activities, have conversations, “live life”...and from afar I find myself asking, Is that really me? Is this really my life?
I feel bad for my fiance. I think about ending my life for his sake. I know this isn’t logical, but it sometimes does feel like it would save him a lot of heartache. I’m sure it will be hard having a wife who is depressed for the rest of her life. I’m sure it will be heartbreaking to hear your children ask “why is mommy always so sad?” And I’m quite positive that having wife who doesn’t know how to relate to God, who doesn’t know how to function in a state other than numbness, surely isn’t a life to desire. How can a man walk toward marriage with a woman that is sure to be more of a burden than a help mate? How can he bear to see his dreams dwindle and fade in light of my struggles, in light of my deep limitations?
...happy spring.
here’s to hoping my spiritual winter will end someday too. for good.
...Looking back on this make me praise God from the depths of my heart for healing me. Though my life isn't perfect, and I still have fears when looking toward the future, I can't deny that God has taken care of me thus far, has preserved my life when ending it seemed the only logical move, and has set my feet on a rock. Even if I find myself in a pit someday in the future, having been there often in the past, I finally realize that Jesus will be there with me. And having the hope of Jesus being there with me makes the pit seem a bit less scary.
July 18, 2010
Expectations within the Church
My friend Jake asked me to write a guest post for his blog recently. He has been focusing his blog lately on gender issues within the church, and asked me to write about being a woman as a member of Christ's church. I chose to write about the passage in 1 Peter that says a "quiet and gentle spirit" is the path to beauty in God's eyes.
If you are interested in reading this, you can visit his blog:
Notes from a Small Place
After reading it, I would love to hear your thoughts. What do you think it means for a woman to have a "quiet and gentle spirit" ?
If you are interested in reading this, you can visit his blog:
Notes from a Small Place
After reading it, I would love to hear your thoughts. What do you think it means for a woman to have a "quiet and gentle spirit" ?
July 15, 2010
When is it time to go on an anti-depressant?
One of the blogs that I read on a regular basis is Abraham Piper's blog, 22 Words. Recently he asked the following question on the post 2 questions I have about antidepressants and the physicality of depression
"1. If antidepressants help with a physical malfunction in the brain, how come so many people treat them as a last resort? We don’t attempt to talk away problems in other parts of our body–athlete’s foot, stomach flu, throat cancer, etc.–before we use medication.
2. On the other hand, if depression is a physical malady, why is it diagnosed with conversations in an office rather than tests in a lab?
I’m not trying to make any kind of point with these questions. I’m genuinely curious (and ignorant)."
If you are interested in this discussion, I would recommend that you look through the responses that this post received.
After pondering for a while, I decided to respond (something that I am usually too shy or uncertain to do).
Here is the response that I gave:
"Having lived with depression for 7 years before I was finally diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, I have been through the run of different medications. I guess just through personal experience, I would say that meeting with a Christian counselor and letting spiritual community minister to me and help me through deep emotional struggles like grief and anger with God helped me reach a place of emotional and spiritual healing. At this point, when I knew all other factors were “okay” and found myself still suicidally depressed on a regular basis, we knew it was time to figure out if there was something else wrong with me.
I went on an anti-depressant after a few years of counseling. I think that choosing when to start on an anti-depressant is something you decide upon with a doctor and wise counsel, because I do think that often there are physical factors at work along with emotional struggles. As my physician pointed out, it is a “chicken or the egg” question…did the physical depression cause me to become emotionally distraught with a skewed view of truth, or did my emotional/situational struggles trigger a depression that programmed my brain into a chemical depression? My understanding (though possibly wrong) is that it is possible that if you are situationally depressed for a long enough time, your body actually can become conditioned to that situation, and it turns into a physical issue.
All that to say, I think it would be foolish to not try medication if it seems that counseling alone (and continuing to work with God to align your heart and mind with the truth about who God is and who we are in Christ) does not seem to be working. For me, however, after years of counseling that righted the emotional issues, it still took a correct diagnosis and two medications found through trial and error for me to reach a place where I have been without suicidal thoughts for 8 months now–a major success and reason to praise God for healing through all the various people and means that He used to bring it about.
Anyways, thoughts from one who has recently been through the rigor of being diagnosed with a mental illness. Thanks for your concern and interest in this. It is nice to see Christians trying to understand this and right any misunderstandings that might have been programmed into their brains about how “good Christians” don’t struggle with things like depression or mental illnesses. It’s a lie that keeps many people in captivity, and it’s time to start educating each other with the truth about this situation."
What do you all think? When do you think it is right for someone with depression to start on an anti-depressant? I'm interested in any thoughts you might have, no matter what your background. Let's discuss.
"1. If antidepressants help with a physical malfunction in the brain, how come so many people treat them as a last resort? We don’t attempt to talk away problems in other parts of our body–athlete’s foot, stomach flu, throat cancer, etc.–before we use medication.
2. On the other hand, if depression is a physical malady, why is it diagnosed with conversations in an office rather than tests in a lab?
I’m not trying to make any kind of point with these questions. I’m genuinely curious (and ignorant)."
If you are interested in this discussion, I would recommend that you look through the responses that this post received.
After pondering for a while, I decided to respond (something that I am usually too shy or uncertain to do).
Here is the response that I gave:
"Having lived with depression for 7 years before I was finally diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, I have been through the run of different medications. I guess just through personal experience, I would say that meeting with a Christian counselor and letting spiritual community minister to me and help me through deep emotional struggles like grief and anger with God helped me reach a place of emotional and spiritual healing. At this point, when I knew all other factors were “okay” and found myself still suicidally depressed on a regular basis, we knew it was time to figure out if there was something else wrong with me.
I went on an anti-depressant after a few years of counseling. I think that choosing when to start on an anti-depressant is something you decide upon with a doctor and wise counsel, because I do think that often there are physical factors at work along with emotional struggles. As my physician pointed out, it is a “chicken or the egg” question…did the physical depression cause me to become emotionally distraught with a skewed view of truth, or did my emotional/situational struggles trigger a depression that programmed my brain into a chemical depression? My understanding (though possibly wrong) is that it is possible that if you are situationally depressed for a long enough time, your body actually can become conditioned to that situation, and it turns into a physical issue.
All that to say, I think it would be foolish to not try medication if it seems that counseling alone (and continuing to work with God to align your heart and mind with the truth about who God is and who we are in Christ) does not seem to be working. For me, however, after years of counseling that righted the emotional issues, it still took a correct diagnosis and two medications found through trial and error for me to reach a place where I have been without suicidal thoughts for 8 months now–a major success and reason to praise God for healing through all the various people and means that He used to bring it about.
Anyways, thoughts from one who has recently been through the rigor of being diagnosed with a mental illness. Thanks for your concern and interest in this. It is nice to see Christians trying to understand this and right any misunderstandings that might have been programmed into their brains about how “good Christians” don’t struggle with things like depression or mental illnesses. It’s a lie that keeps many people in captivity, and it’s time to start educating each other with the truth about this situation."
What do you all think? When do you think it is right for someone with depression to start on an anti-depressant? I'm interested in any thoughts you might have, no matter what your background. Let's discuss.
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