counting the sand

The last time I wrote, I was facing the return of many of my depression symptoms. The deadness I felt returning to my eyes reflected a weighty possibility: staying off medication simply may not be the loving thing to do. 

My husband and I mulled things over together (mulled is too nice a word for it) and concluded that I’d stay off medicine until the height of winter, when things always get hardest for me. That gave us, eh, three months give or take. Three months to conceive, which is something that some couples attempt for years. Years. 

While I was thrilled to start trying, I also, in another part of my heart, was attempting to get myself ramped for adoption. I strained to consider the options as equally valuable (which they are, but tell that to my heart last fall) so that I wouldn’t have to face the same disappointment I had been pummeled with in other areas of my life. 

Oh me of little faith. 

I knew before I knew, as so many do. The changes are subtle but noticeable, especially if you’re anticipating them. All of a sudden, the positive test was in my hands, and everything had changed. 

Many of the prayers and praises of women recorded in Scripture are regarding conception, motherhood. The most famous of these is undoubtedly the Magnificat, Mary’s praise-song, sung in response to realizing she was being used as a direct instrument in God’s plan to change the fate of humanity. 

“For He made this promise”

At the end of Mary’s outpouring of gratitude, she concludes that she’s been blessed in this way, not because of anything she had or hadn’t done (though I’m sure her character brought God joy), but ultimately, because God promised it. 

He hadn’t promised her a baby, no, but he’d promised to care for her. And caring for Mary meant, above all else, forgiving her sins. 

In keeping with this, He’d promised to send a Messiah into the world, an author and provider of her—and the world’s—salvation. Mary knew that the Annunciation had everything to do with those prophecies, and that she was, incredibly, playing a part. (Mary DID know, to answer your question, overplayed Christmas song!)

When I reflect in joy, or, in other moments, of terror (I mean, parenting, right?!), I am happy and relieved that this blessing—and any trial that may come with it—has so much less to do with me than it has to do with God’s overarching plan to restore this world. 

I, of course, don’t know how my relatively insignificant life and the tiny life growing inside me will fit into His grand plans, but I know that they will. 

Uppity dates: I haven't written in a while, because I got a new job as a full-time writer. Oh, it's a good'n—Yippee! 

Hubs and I weighed pros and cons to accepting a full time position and decided to go for it. Of course, this meant delaying our "start date" a while, which in turn means I'm having more time off depression medicine. That would be fine, if it weren't so stinkin’ hard. 

 And it is hard. It's tough trying to explain why I struggle remembering names for things, and worse, people I know well.* Usually, I can't explain before someone makes a comment like, "Well, you must not be that good of friends with them." And I'm like: 

Insomnia is returning. Anxiety levels, increasing. It's just my body, doing it's natural thing. Which led us back to an old question: What does love look like in this situation?

Yesterday, Daniel and I watched Kingsmen: Secret Service, which stars Colin Firth as an expert killer in a bespoke suit.

I know, it doesn’t fit—I mean, the suit does, but not the role. But—SPOILERS AHEAD—just watch. The director, special effects, and some so-right fight choreography make sweet Colin VERY believably lethal. And, he puts it all on display in one sickeningly graphic mass murdering scene that takes place inside of a church.

The movie pulls it off, because this isn’t just any church—it’s a glorified hate group, a la Westboro Baptist. Indeed, the villain (played by Samuel L. Jackson with a FANTASTIC lisp) chooses the church as test subjects for his genius plan, because they are so full of hate and violent impulses. When everyone’s “inner driving-impulse controls” are taken away, the whole church erupts into a brawl, including Firth’s character Hart, who is way, way more effective than anyone else.

As I mentioned above, it’s a disturbing scene, but undeniably mixed in is the catharsis of seeing those people get some come uppance. They receive a final judgement, as it were. It made me think about the Westboro Baptists out there, spouting hell and condemnation as gospel. I shudder to think of the darkness that they walk in, and are perhaps walking toward. 

There would be poetic irony in hellfire-picketers coming to the same fate they assigned to others. Beyond that, though, espousing the idea of hell is commonly seen as narrow and harsh.

END SPOILERS

Indeed, the first time I heard about hell, it was terrifying. I was young, and, with good intentions, the prospect of hell was used more or less as a scare tactic into getting me to behave / into heaven. The hell verdict would be given if my good deeds didn’t measure up, if the number of my bad thoughts and deeds creeped up and tipped the scales.

Later, I came to understand the hell verdict would be given only if I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ. This gave me some relief—I had a tender conscious as a kid and was very in tune with the grudges and unlove I felt toward others at times—but the idea of hell was still oppressive. There wasn’t really a reason God wouldn’t care to send me to hell. He would spare me, I guessed, if I believed in his Son hard enough. I hoped.

It’s an attempt at encouragement: Just stay positive. When I was depressed, I never took it well. Don’t get me wrong, I SO needed more positivity in my heart and mind, but there were times when hearing it made me want to negative even harder.

Nowadays, I take it a lot better. Even the grouchy alternative, “stop being so negative,” can hold value for me. I enjoy when my friends remind me to hold onto hope, because I finally enjoy having hope. This post is for those of you who may be trying to encourage a friend in a dark place. (Note: If you’ve been on the receiving end and have a list of when it’s okay—and when it’s not okay—to be told “just be more positive,” then tell me and my devoted listeners *wink* about it!)

So, your friend is exposing you to constant, grueling negativity. You’ve tried to encourage her in a few ways, but each day brings more “woes.” It’s wearing on you, and you feel her life could be so much more vibrant if she’d just think a little more positively...

Saying "be positive” is saying “be different.”

This is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly if your friend’s self-loathsome cycle is sucking his life dry. But if, regardless of the reason, the person can’t be different, the attempt at encouragement can be perceived as declaration of rejection. “Since you are not positive, I find you unacceptable.” Of course, that is far from what you intended, but depressed people are often more likely to draw negative conclusions from words and events. They are possibly uncomfortable with uncertainty and disappointment, and so tend to settle on the worst conclusion ever so that nothing will catch them off guard. Or, like me, their emotions may be in a state of such unrest that these illogical conclusions feel more real than any evidence you can present. Which, of course, is why you were telling them to be positive in the first place!

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When to NOT say it:

When your friend displays symptoms of clinical depression, an anxiety disorder, or other mental illness. Instead, ask her if she would consider seeing a health professional and counselor. Assure her that you care about her and that receiving medical help isn’t wrong or a crutch but rather can put her in a better place to deal with life’s pain while also—gasp!—enjoying life. 

When you are saying it because you’re tired of his griping. In this case, you aren’t really trying to help. (Unless you’re trying to put up a boundary to salvage your friendship. It is very difficult to sustain a friendship in which negativity toward life, one’s self, other people, etc. is a constant. This is because we need hope to survive in this broken world. In this case, poising yourself to bring light to that person’s life may look like setting a boundary and finding a few positive friends as well.)  But back to the original point. If you’re just tired of hearing it, instead of a fake “stay positive,” simply tell him that you are struggling with the negativity and want to move onto a solution or a different topic right now. Be honest.

When your friend is grieving. Grieving is an important process that we all need to walk through. Instead of attempts at making her feel better, which probably come across as cheapening her suffering, try walking with her through it, acknowledging her deep pain. This works even if you aren’t saying much at all. 

When you’ve tried it before, and nothing. If you’ve tried the first method above, here are some other tips:

Try listening. Active listening should put some follow-up questions in your mind. Don’t assume you know everything that is behind the emotions she is experiencing. Ask good questions to get at the root and once you see where the negativity is coming from, you may be able to offer poignant consolation and advice.

Ask if he has experienced a major trauma and if so, whether he has sought help or healing. Debilitating adult stress is highly correlated with childhood stress. There may be healing needed beyond what you can offer, and encouragement toward a compassionate professional may be the best form of encouragement you can give. Certainly listen, pray, and offer compassion, but also look into what options for deep healing are available in your local community.

Give a complement. Words are powerful. Carefully consider your friend’s greatest strengths and remind her how she has been uniquely gifted to bring love, healing, and hope to the world. Don’t shame her (or let her bring shame on herself) because she isn’t doing much for others right now. Remind her to keep moving forward. Help her think of ways to show care for others tomorrow. You may be able to help rebuild a wounded identity.

Ask: What if everything falls apart...and reorganizes into something amazing?! What-ifs can be deadly. Help your friend see the brilliant what-if possibilities instead of only the dark ones. 

Ask: What would make everything okay in this situation? The answer may give insight into fears, desires, or cases of mistaken identity (i.e. “I have to be good looking or athletic for my life to matter to me and others.”) that my be behind his doldrums. 

Our earth is habitable because it falls into the Goldilocks Zone: not too near to the blazing fusion of the sun or too far from its life-sustaining tendrils of light.

On a physical level, my brain is moving out of its Goldilocks zone. Too little serotonin to sleep or experience emotional stability. Too much corticotropin-releasing hormone (CRH), possibly, making me feel threatened in normally moderately threatening to non-threatening situations. 

Crazy thing, though, I don’t feel as knocked off my axis as I easily could have. I credit the same Person I credit for this impossibly life-sustaining planet: God. 

Here are some unexpected additions to my life that help me stay all right:

Noise machine – I used to abhor the all-night white noise that my husband introduced into our lives. Now as soon as the “rain” comes on, my eyelids get heavy, and as long as it’s on, I tend to stay in sleep mode. Halleluja! 

Pirate sleep aids – I am uber-sensitive to sunlight. In the summer, the tiniest sliver of light can wake me up: yet another sleep cycle disturber that contributes to the havoc of insomnia. Enter: the “eyes.” Sleep masks really work! 

(Nearly no) sugar, (lots of) carbs – I always “knew” that sugar wasn’t the best for me, but after working for a wellness company, I finally had the motivation to try going without added sugar. The initial lack of blood sugar crashes had me shaking my head with regret at not trying it sooner. Unrefined carbs are staying in my diet, though. They are good for the brain!

Coffeh!!! – Energy booster and brain delight-er, coffee’s sugarless caffeine helps me stay happy. I’m so glad trazodone got me needing the stuff on a regular basis. 

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I prefer to write the shorter “meds” to antidepressant medication, but I still feel the weight of the negative connotation that meds, and well, any reference psychiatric medication carries. 

Of course, it’s getting better. Antidepressants, the second most commonly prescribed medication, are becoming a part of the average adult’s arsenal. That’s not to say the prevalence of these meds is to blame for decreased stigma. There is a line of thinking, which isn’t entirely wrong, that our entire nation is over-medicated. However, most people who know someone on medicine to treat depression and anxiety see positive changes. That’s the main reason meds are becoming less scary.

The same level of acceptance is not quite as true for antipsychotics, which imply by the name that the user is particularly crazy and needs cuckoo’s nest numbing. This is most concerning to me, because anti-psychotics are effective, if not perfect, treatment for disorders that must be managed for life for that person to experience a little peace on this earth.

How do you feel about medication? What would be your advice to someone who wondered if they should ask their doctor about antidepressants? Antipsychotics?

Here are some quick facts I’ve found about modern day attitudes toward meds:

43% of people in one study reported avoiding disclosing symptoms of depression to their doctors for fear of being prescribed antidepressants. Common reasons were stigma surrounding meds and side effects.

25% of people with major depression aren’t diagnosed or treated, yet between 80-90 percent of those diagnosed with major depression can be effectively treated and return to their usual daily activities and feelings.

5-8% of people may experience a psychosis in their lifetime, which is about ten times the number of people who are diagnosed with a psychotic illness.

While treatable, major depressive disorder/clinical depression is not considered to be curable by the medical community. 

The more depressed a person is, the less likely they are to seek and trust treatment options.