The more I felt depression winning the battle the more I learned to dread the question. In fact the question only added to my conviction that I was better off not being around people, and they were better off not being around me. I valued truth and honesty even as the lies were being hurled relentlessly in my direction and I was believing them. I wanted to be genuine, but no one wanted to hear the real answer to the question. "Hi, how are you?"
"Well, since you asked, I'm completely miserable, but I am afraid to talk to anyone about it. Anytime I try I am met with admonition about how I should be counting my blessings and how much worse someone else has it. Ironic, I am sensible enough to know that my circumstances are more favorable than most, but I can't shake this cloud hanging over my head. I can't see two steps in front of me. Knowing that others have it worse really isn't a comfort, it's a guilt trip, and the last thing I need right now is guilt to carry through this fog. If you really want to help me, then encourage me. I can't think rationally, so I will probably believe the ugly voices inside my head instead, but you could try to give me some hope."
No one wants to hear that answer, and if I had given it I would only feel like I had somehow begged for compliments. So, what's the go to answer that anyone in my position would give? Fine. I hated the question, and I hated the answer. It was a lie. There was nothing fine about me, and even if I could have withstood the responses, it was socially unacceptable to tell the truth. I saw this image in social media today, and it gave me that last nudge I needed to write on a topic I have been contemplating since I finally got real help.
It didn't take long after my husband scheduled an appointment with my doctor, and I began treatment, that I felt an improvement, but I was still too unstable to face opposition. I was so afraid that I would be judged for taking an anti depressant. "You are a Christian. The Joy of The Lord is supposed to be your strength. You're not supposed to need medication. Maybe you're not who I thought you were." The underlying message: If you can't lean on The Lord to get you through this without pills, you're a failure." I knew the medication was helping, and I knew that any outside discouragement would only complicate things, so I kept it a secret for a while.
I didn't want to keep it a secret forever though. I have gradually shared my experience with friends and family. There have to be others that are out there feeling like I did. They are trapped in a heavy mist that they can barely see through, and they are believing many lies from an invisible enemy. One of those lies it that you're a failure if you accept medical treatment. I am here to tell you that God created the body, that He understands chemical imbalances, that they are a result of the fall just like diabetes, cancer, or any other illness. There aren't many people out there who would tell someone with high cholesterol, high blood pressure, or insulin dependence not to take their medicine, but you cross over into psychological issues like ADHD, depression and anxiety, and suddenly there's a barrage of well meaning people who will try to tell you that very thing. "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps." "It's mind over matter." "Where's your faith?"
I have struggled with bouts of depression all my life. I won't go into the family history side of things, but I believe it was passed down to me. Last year things got so bad with my "mood disorder" that I could see it's devastating affect on my own children. My daughter despised me, and my youngest son was showing signs of depression. I thought about the misery of my childhood, and how medical intervention could have made a world of difference. I decided that I didn't want to let pride ruin my family, but I was afraid. My husband finally asked if I wanted him to make and appointment, and I admitted that I did. I needed help. I didn't just need help; I needed help getting help. I began iron replacement treatments because I was depleted and exhausted, and we left with a prescription that the three of us agreed would wait until the iron had a chance to revive me a bit. We wanted to see how much improvement there would be with the iron alone. It wasn't enough. I wasn't just physically exhausted though that was a catalyst. Once my serotonin level began to recover, my relationship with my daughter began to improve and heal. My youngest son began to come around too. He's a happy-go-lucky guy now. Even my older two sons who were better able to deal with my emotional roller coaster are much happier.
I do have the joy of The Lord, but I was sick. I thank God often for the tiny little pill that helped stabilize my emotions and allow me to think rationally. It didn't change who I am, it changed my ability to control my reactions. I don't feel drugged, I feel human again. I can't adequately describe what I felt like before, but it was like I didn't even recognize myself. I wasn't who I wanted to be, or even who I really am. I was angry all the time for practically no reason. I couldn't cope with everyday issues in life. I would get completely fixated on a conceived problem, and could not move on or let it go. The smallest thing could shut me down or, well, blow me up like a raging volcano spewing all over everyone in my path.
Today is a new day. I still have some that are difficult, and they scare me because I never want to go back there again. A bad day can feel like a relapse, but when it's over I can appreciate it for its brevity and the reminder to be all the more thankful for the good ones. If you ask me how I am I still cringe a little on the inside. It's time to get over that and remove the word "fine" from my vocabulary. No matter what kind of day or week I am having, even if the medicine were to stop working altogether, I am a child of God: I am bought with a price, I am ransomed, I am redeemed. "I AM FREE!" Even in a cloud under enemy fire, "I AM FREE!" That was the one thing I knew even when the night was darkest. My soul cannot be bound by the chains of sin, though my body and mind be subjected to it's effects. Because my Savior lives I can always answer, "I AM FREE!"
