December 2019 Contributor: Faithe Henry

I previously wrote a blog as a guest for one of my friends about mental health. For those that have read my last writings, I would like to explain a little about a part of one of three diagnoses. I’m going to try a little something new and personal. I am going to tell you about a few things that triggered my depression. Let’s jump right in.

I was twelve years old when I was unofficially diagnosed with depression. The reason it’s unofficial is because it was done by my junior high school counselor. See, I was made to attend grief counseling once to twice a week due to the death of a family member. The pain I faced due to this passing isn’t something any child should have to go through.

My loss was not one of a grandparent, aunt, or uncle. My loss was that of my mother. Now don’t get me wrong… I’m not belittling the death of anyone, especially any of the ones I listed. Please just keep reading.

I lost my mother in the early months of 2004. It was an accident but not one of the usual manner. I won’t get into details, but just know that I thank God every day my siblings and I weren’t there to witness what happened. I found out when I came home from school.

I don’t remember much about that day. I actually don’t remember much about any of the days from her death until her funeral. The grief that I faced that day was like none I had ever dealt with before and still haven’t to this day.

Several months after her death is when I received my unofficial diagnosis, and I was treated with what I think of as a joke. The school board’s idea idea of grief counseling was laughable, to say the least, but I did as requested anyway.

For those of you trying to do the math, she has now been gone for 15 years. As I have gotten older, I have realized how much my mother truly meant to me. She was my rock, my support, my hero. She loved my siblings and I with every breath she had and then some. She was so much more talented than I think I could ever be. She always worked so hard to support us no matter what.

I haven’t had her in my life to witness the most important moments of my life, and that can hit me extremely hard some days. When I think about all of the things she’s missed, all of my heart breaks; my husband, my wedding, but mostly her grandchildren. It tears me up inside.

Every day is a new day; a day for me to live for her, to do all of the things she wanted me to do. I told myself I would do everything in my power to do the things I would have done to make her proud, and I think I do that every day.

Unfortunately in my case, my mother isn’t the only contributing factor to my depression. It wasn’t until late last year that I discovered this. Late last year, I received my first real therapy session, which is where I received my diagnosis of extreme recurring depression. Going into therapy, I thought most to all of my depression was because of the passing of my mother. But I learned something completely unexpected.

My past medical conditions (two types of cancer) and my father were a huge factors in my depression as well. Before my mother passed, before my mother and father divorced, I was afraid of my father. He was physically and mentally abusing. He has, and I believe will always, deny this until the day he dies. Where my memories of certain things are foggy, these memories certainly are not. I discovered I didn’t just fear my father, but I resented him, hated him, and was down right angry at him for mistreating his family, for not being the father he needed to be, not being being there for me, and now most of all, not being a grandfather to his grandchildren, the very grandchildren my mother would have loved with every fiber of her being like she loved her children. For not being the father I know in my heart he could have been and chose not to be. Not being the man my mother believed in and loved at one time in her life so deeply, it hurt.

I’ve come so very far since I’ve started therapy, but I know there are other people in this world that are where I have been and let me tell you first hand, it can and will get better.

The first step is to stop putting yourself down and believe, even if you don’t see it, that someone is there for you. The second step is to always remember and love the person even if they are gone. The third step is to take every day one step at a time and live like that person is still with you cheering you on. The person you lost wouldn’t want to see you down, depressed, and sad. If you have a person trying to hold you down, forgive them then let them go. Lastly, live. Live every day because you never know what you might find in yourself one day. The person you may want to be is just beneath the surface waiting to be set free, and you’re the only person that can make that happen. You’re the only person that can make that choice for you.

If you find it difficult to find that person, remember there is someone that already loves you for you, and will be there to encourage you along the way.

Faithe Henry

These Shoes

These shoes have taken me to the place where I would get the diagnoses that would change my life. They have taken me to the place where I have met people that didn’t want the best for me; they wanted to take advantage of me, to see me fail.

These shoes have taken me to places I never want to go again. They have taken me to places where I’ve felt pain, where I’ve felt anxiety, where I’ve felt stuck.

These shoes have taken me to places where I would have to share my feelings with complete strangers and hope that they didn’t judge me. They have taken me to places where I’ve waited and waited to feel whole again, to feel something, anything at all.

But…

These shoes have taken me to places that I recover and try my best to feel significant. They have taken me to the place where I can speak my soul and help it to heal. They have taken me to the place where I can feel free, where I can feel whole, where I can feel human.

People can judge us. They can slander our name. They can look down on us because we’re different than them… but they can’t take our soul. They can’t take our voice. They don’t know our lives or how we live, why we do the things we do. What we have fought for up until this very moment.

These shoes are dirty, beat down, worn out… but nobody can take away what they’ve been through. What I have been through.

Keep fighting for you and I’ll keep fighting for me.

Campfire Thoughts

Campfire with my boys

I’m sitting in front of a campfire with my two dogs next to me, I’m looking up at the night sky and I see the stars, I hear the crickets, I see the fireflies… and nothing could ever beat this feeling.

I haven’t felt this happy and content, stress free, no depression, no anxiety, since 2016 when I sat on the beach literally by myself in Okinawa, Japan. It’s a feeling I didn’t think I’d ever feel again. It’s a feeling I thought was just a once in a lifetime type of thing.

I say all of this because I’ve been depressed lately. It started right around my birthday, which is right on time, because I always start getting those holiday blues around my birthday, which is in early October. I didn’t think I’d get out of it. I kept up with my homework, but that’s about it. I was able to have enough energy to hike just once since it’s cooled off. I’m behind on my chores, like cleaning the house. I’ve just been depressed.

I sat at my desk last night and stared at the sand from the beach in Japan I went to (I collect sand from all the beaches I visit), and I thought to myself, “What if I never feel that feeling again? What if I’m stuck forever in this endless cycle of depression?” I can have great days, but it never fails that the bad days happen a day or two after. I have felt stuck in that endless cycle for a long time now. But that day at the beach in Japan proved to me that I can feel like I’m floating and feel like I have no stress or worries, even if only for an hour. But I always thought I’d never feel it again.

Tonight, while I sit around this campfire, I am feeling it again. There’s no better feeling in the world. Tomorrow, maybe it goes back to normal. Or maybe I can live my life like I’m on that beach or I’m sitting in front of a campfire.

It’s time to start living, man. I have to or I’ll feel stuck in this endless cycle forever. It’s time to start traveling, hiking more, camping more, writing more! I’m feeling so inspired to just… write. Everything. No matter how real or honest it gets. I just want to write. I want to live. I want to breathe and not feel trapped. Things are changing, my friends. Keep up with me or get left behind, because I’m not slowing down.

November 2019 Contributor: Lenzi Moak

Every month I will feature a guest blogger/contributor. If you would like to contribute, contact me at writtenbyalivee@gmail.com and we’ll talk!

“Of Depression and Christianity”

Most Sundays, I go to church in the morning and listen to the morning’s sermon. The title of this one was “No Longer…Sick and Tired,” and it talked about how we all say we’re “sick and tired of being sick and tired.” (And here I am thinking, “I’m so sick and tired of the phrase “sick and tired.” But that’s beside the point.)

The main story spoken about was about the woman who bled for twelve years nonstop, and how she thought was, “If I could just touch Jesus’s robe, I’ll be healed!” The pastor explained that while it was a big deal for her to bleed for 144 months, if you look at that time period, they were still living under Leviticus law. The Leviticus law stated that if a woman is bleeding for an extended period of time, she was considered unclean. So not only was she miserable, but she had to profess to others that she was unclean. If anyone touched her, they had to ceremoniously wash their bodies to purify themselves.

The pastor said, “Imagine how humiliating it was to have to do that! Imagine if you had to stand in front of everyone and announce your affliction to them, and if they touched you they thought they were going to get what you have!”

And all that went through my head were two words: mental illness.

(Funny enough, the example he used was “cooties.”)

We live in a world where the second someone learns you have a mental illness, they want absolutely nothing to do with you. They become scared and believe that if they make the wrong move, you’re going to attack them (even if your depression is more destructive towards yourself than others). They want to lock you in a cage. You could lose your job. You could be disowned by your family and friends, ending up worse off than when you started. And that’s just barely scratching the surface of the repercussions of what might happen!

You know who else face a backlash? Christians who suffer from mental illness.

Oh yes. I’m going there.

There are so many Christians in the world who feel like they have to keep their mental illness a secret because they know beyond a reasonable doubt the reaction they’ll get: “You’re not praying enough. You’re not seeking God enough. If you would just seek Him and pray more often, you wouldn’t have these suicidal ideations. You wouldn’t have anxiety. You wouldn’t have psychotic episodes.”

As a Christian living with depression on a daily basis, I’m sick and tired of hearing this. Yes, there are some instances when praying and reading the Bible and living for God are able to help. But when you already do these things and you still feel that heavy weight over you, it becomes discouraging. “Maybe if you just did more, you’d be healed. Maybe if you cried out to God more, He’ll take this away from you.”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat on my couch or my bed or even laid on my floor and just cried out for God to take my depression or even my own life away from me. Just go ahead and get it over with! I’ve felt worthless and had trouble remembering what the point to my own existence is. For twenty years, I had considered myself God’s only mistake, a culmination of every spare part He had, and He pieced me together and said, “Well, I guess this is a thing.” My whole life felt like a penance I had to pay! The scene in Guardians of the Galaxy where Rocket just snapped and said, “I never asked for this”… I replayed that scene at least three times and absorbed every word because I could feel his pain. I didn’t ask to exist, and here I was, suffering.

I believe in God. He’s my whole world. If someone pointed a gun at me and asked if Jesus was my savior, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. I pray constantly. I read a devotional almost daily. And yet… my depression is because I’m not seeking Him enough?

Earlier this year, my best friend suggested I write down at least one positive thing about myself a day. I took it a step further and wrote three. Before doing that part of the routine, though, I’d look through my YouVersion Bible app and write down four verses about God’s love and about His deliverance. Four verses about what God said about me. One day, I was hit with John 9:2-3 (AMP):

“His disciples asked Him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man or his parents sinned, but it was so that the works of God might be displayed and illustrated through him.'”

After reflecting on it, I replaced the blindness in my mind with mental illness. The same principle applies. Yes, circumstances can affect our mental stability. But sometimes it’s not what we did that causes these issues. Sometimes they just…are. Wonky brain chemistry, an inability to see or hear, an inability to walk. Those aren’t always caused by something we did.

Dare I say it, but I honestly believe living as a Christian with depression has actually enhanced my walk with Him. During those moments when I want to do is give up, I’ve cried out to Him and begged for Him to kill me, knowing He won’t do it. But what He does do is gently tell me, “You’re okay.” I don’t believe it at first. How could I? I’m freakin’ miserable over here!

But eventually (could be minutes or hours), I slow my crying, take a deep breath, and bask in the calmness that overtakes me. He doesn’t ever turn his back on me. It creates a trust, a bond that can’t be shaken. I know for a fact that the next time I fall into that pit of despair, I can call on Jesus’s name like He’s my only lifeline – because He truly is. And I know that the second He saves me, I’m going to turn around and tell others that He so mercifully saved me instead of just leaving me there to waste away.

So…as confirmation to the Christian with mental illness: Lack of prayer and/or lack of belief is not always the cause.

As people are fond of saying nowadays, it’s okay to have Jesus and a therapist. It’s okay to be on antidepressants or antipsychotics. You can use this to glorify God and lift Him up when the episodes end. You can use this to reach out to others and say, “I know exactly what you’re going through! We can face this together! You’re not alone!”

Remember: You are loved, always and forever. Keep holding on, and take care of yourself the best you can.

Lenzi Moak

Just Because I Don’t Work Doesn’t Mean I’m Lazy

Just because I don’t work doesn’t mean I’m lazy.

It’s difficult for me to talk about this, but I feel transparency with my readers and honesty with myself requires me to talk about it.

I haven’t worked in almost 5 1/2 years. If you’ve been reading my blog for the past 5 years, you know I battle with MDD (major depressive disorder), social anxiety, and a few other things. When I was diagnosed in 2014, it was at a mental hospital where I stayed for 7 days. I had a mental breakdown. I tried to die by suicide. I was ready to either die or to leave and never look back.

I wasn’t able to go back to work. I was in therapy 5 days a week for 5 hours a day. Even if I wanted to go back to work, I couldn’t. I decided applying for Social Security Disability benefits would be my best bet. People told me it would take months, maybe even a year or two before I would be approved. They told me it would take more than one try. I was discouraged by that, but I applied anyway. I got approved the first time.

From that time until even today, I feel guilty because I don’t work. There are days when I’m exhausted and don’t do anything except watch a movie on Netflix or walk the dogs, and it makes me feel extremely guilty. It makes me feel lazy. It makes me feel ashamed. I’m 29 years old and I still live with parents because I can’t afford to live on my own, and even if I could, I would be terrified to live by myself.

As I type this, I realize I am basically explaining myself, but deep down I know I don’t have to. If I could work, I would. Those that don’t know my story might view me as lazy, but that’s just it…

They don’t know my story. I do not have to explain myself. What people think about me does not determine my worth.

I constantly have to remind myself of those things. From my point of view, I have a reason I don’t have a job. A legit reason. But my anxiety tells me that people judge me and think I’m lazy just because I happen to be a millennial, and millennials are apparently notoriously lazy.

Believe it or not, depression is the second most common medical condition listed on Social Security disability applications.

I know what you’re saying… “Those people just need to suck it up and go to work.” It’s not that simple. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to be able to tell you how not simple it really is. Mental health awareness has truly come a long way in recent years. People are starting to realize that depression is not just this made up thing that people make up to have an excuse for not being able to handle something, for crying unexpectedly, not being able to get out of bed, etc.

Truly people would not choose to have depression if they had a choice. I definitely would not. I want to be normal. I want to feel normal. I want to be a stereotypical hardworking American. But I can’t. I’ve tried. And that’s okay. I don’t have to feel guilty for not being able to work. I have a steady monthly income, I help my parents around the house, I do odd jobs (like dog sitting for friends) to have a small extra income, I go to therapy every week… ah, here I am explaining myself again.

If you struggle with a mental illness and you come to terms with the fact that maybe you’re one of those people that just can’t seem to find a job and hold on to it because of depression and/or anxiety, don’t feel bad. You’re not the only one. And it’s not your fault. Just do me a favor and stay in therapy (most of the time its required to be approved for disability benefits for a mental illness)… it’s such an amazing service and tool for you to have. Take advantage of it.

Just because I don’t work doesn’t mean I’m lazy. 

 

October 2019 Contributor: Faithe Henry

Today in the United States, we face a serious problem with mental health. See, the problem doesn’t solely lie with under knowledge of all types of mental health. The biggest problems in my opinion are over- and under-diagnosis.

A lot of children are over-diagnosed with mental health issues, such as ADD and ADHD. Additionally, most adults aren’t properly diagnosed with possible depression, anxiety, and other such issues.

With that being said, let’s also think about the way we label such “issues.” These diagnoses should never be considered problematic in the way people today look at them.

Allow me to clarify.

I myself, as an adult, have been diagnosed with anxiety, extreme recurring depression, and to top it all off, bottled emotions. Now, to me, depending on a lot of things, these diagnoses can be problematic. Yet they shouldn’t be problematic to a stranger to the point that I am being judged solely on said diagnosis. I am not crazy, I am not going to go crazy, and I work hard every day to fight through these personal problems I deal with.

There are so many other adults that don’t get the diagnosis they need to tell them they aren’t crazy, and that they aren’t a burden to anyone. But mostly you can feel better and be yourself without feeling totally unloved or forgotten.

Then we face the fact that not everyone’s depression or anxiety is the same. I personally believe that’s why so many people are not diagnosed. To those people out there, there are so many people that are and have gone through this, so don’t believe you’re alone in this!

As for our children, I personally find too many children are being diagnosed with things that are just the way children are suppose to be. Our children are not toys to sit on a shelf or go to a class room to just listen, learn, and repeat. They are children and need to be allowed to be such. They should be able to run around, have bad days, not listen and just throw a hissy fit on occasion. They are still just kids and are always human.

Take a minute with your children and find the problem, and then find the solution. Then fix it in the way it should be done. Just because your child doesn’t just sit down and be quiet doesn’t mean they have ADHD. We as parents need to do more for and with our children. Heck, they may have some good points to teach us! Maybe if we actually let our feelings out more often a few people wouldn’t have some of the mental health issues they have.

Let’s say you have a bad day at work; don’t bottle it up, don’t take it out on your loved ones. When you get home, go somewhere and throw a hissy fit for a minute. Find a safe way to take out your frustrations without hurting yourself or others.

There are so many other mental health issues out there, and I am no where near a professional. I am still researching my diagnosis and finding what works for me. The same thing doesn’t work for everyone. Just remember if you are out there and feel alone, unloved, and that you aren’t yourself, there are people out there in the same shoes as you.

I know I don’t mind talking about my problems and will happily help anyone I can with theirs. Please remember someone cares and loves you.

 

Faithe Henry

Just another cheesy post…

I was sitting at my desk today and was just thinking to myself while I mindlessly changed tabs… I have had a productive day today despite waking up in a terrible mood, pretty sure I was close to a mental breakdown, and really just wanting to throw myself a pity party. Last week, I had a horrific day; depressed, even harmful thoughts… I pulled myself out of it. Today, I pulled myself out of it.

I’ve been working my tail off in therapy, trying hard to make steps forward instead of steps backward. I’m working through my thoughts, through my depression, anxiety, OCD… but I still have my bad days. The difference between now and even just five years ago is that I am able to focus on getting out of that funk, that depression. I have a way to go with the anxiety, but I can tell I’m making progress and so can my therapist.

If you had asked me five years ago if I could pull myself out of a depressive episode and continue to fight and not give in to the harmful thoughts, I would have looked at you funny and probably laughed. I’ve also learned in therapy that it’s perfectly okay to be proud of myself and that it’s not selfish to be proud of myself like I always thought it was. Honestly, it feels weird…

My point is this: keep fighting. Yeah, I know I say that a lot. But if I had given in to those harmful thoughts last week, I would be back to square one. And guess what? I didn’t and I’m not back at square one. I had a horrific day, but I’m here. I’m alive. I’m not in any extra amount of pain.

I think you can do it too. I know you can do it too. Fighting this battle with depression is difficult, but I finally realize that it’s worth it.

I know it’s way more easy to say it than do it, but once you realize you can do it, and honestly you’ve done it before, then you can do anything you put your mind to.

I realize all of this sounds super cheesy, but I don’t care. I believe in myself now, especially after last week, and I believe in you!

Ali Vee

black and white laptop
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