Jennifer Lambert

A Sacred Balance

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What Depression Feels Like

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So many don’t know.

The deep darkness has never touched them.

They’ve never sunk so low

That they can’t even imagine ever getting up again.

How does depression feel?

There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think maybe

Maybe I should just die.

Maybe my children would be better off with a different mother.

Maybe my husband would be better with a happier wife.

Maybe my parents would realize how bad it really was.

Their therapist didn’t know the truth and I’m not only to blame.

Less than.

Never enough.

A hollow pit in the depths of my stomach.

Prickly moist heat that makes my palms itch.

Heaving from the farthest reaches of my insides.

Poor little rich white girl.

I hate this life.

No, it doesn’t make any sense

But

The pain is suffocating.

I’m drowning from too much.

Too little.

Hyperventilating.

Asphyxiation must be the scariest way to go.

I learned long ago to paste on a smile. Smear on some lipstick.

Don’t want to look too pale, sickly, pasty, unhappy, bland.

Don’t call attention.

Don’t tell the secrets.

Be invisible.

But speak up.

Well, which is it?

I’m so confused.

I don’t know who I am. Who should I be?

It doesn’t even matter.

Nothing matters.

On the good days

the sun shines and the bad thoughts almost disappear

I’m so productive! I can take on the world and save everyone, including myself. I’m proud of myself. I’m doing all the right things, saying all the right words in the right tone, feeling all the right feels and not reacting, but being proactive. I plan for tomorrow, next week, next month, years from now. I can see it.

I laugh and bake and play and sing and dance

My heart swells with pride and remember how blessed I am

I can smile and it actually reaches my eyes

and the darkness seems rather far away for a few moments

but I can always see the wicked grin of the shadow monster in my peripheral vision

There but not there

Waiting and reminding

that the darker days are coming.

On the bad days

I struggle to get out of bed.

Every little task is a mountainous obstacle.

I don’t want to bathe or get dressed or eat or go anywhere.

No one can see me.

I avoid mirrors.

I loathe myself.

I am numb.

I know way deep down that I have to go through the motions of all the things I have to do to keep our lives running.

But I can’t really see the point.

“It’s just a headache.”

“I don’t feel so well today.”

“I think I might be coming down with something.”

I don’t deserve

to ever spend a penny on myself

or food

or soap

or water

or clothes

the smiles of my children

the hug from my husband

the grace of God

this life.

I don’t know how to ask for help.

No one knows.

Folding up inside is better, safer, easier.

I used to wish I had a real disease that others could see and believe.

If I were actually sick, then they would be sympathetic.

Then they would know it’s not my fault.

Sometimes we put up walls, not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to knock them down.

Depression isn’t something that I can “just snap out of” or, my God, I would do that!

I can’t just be happy. I can’t just smile more. I can’t just pray it away.

My flat affect is mistaken for sarcasm.

Comparing myself to others who “have it worse” is not helpful.

I’m tired of people who confuse “being depressed” for a season and living with depression. It doesn’t just go away.

I’ve learned to cope without medication.

I’ve been to plenty of therapists. They didn’t help. They shamed me. They blamed me.

Depression is a real illness. We don’t blame people with cancer or diabetes or MS or thyroid deficiencies.

When you ask, “What do you have to be sad about?” It just adds to my guilt. It doesn’t make sense to me why I feel like this. It just is. I live with it. You can’t understand. I can’t explain it to you well enough for you to empathize. If I had cancer, you’d feel pity for me.

Why do we blame people with mental illnesses?

And depression has BFFs – anxiety, anger, physical ailments, PTSD, aches and pains, attention problems, insomnia, eating disorders, self harm, and more. Doctors love to bandaid these symptoms instead of seeking to learn the cause.

When you can’t control your own mind and thoughts, you feel the need to control something. And that need for some semblance of control most often exhibits in an eating disorder, addiction, cutting, or something harmful.

Get help here.

Find more help here.

See more about mental health.


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I’m Angry

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My husband asked me why I seem so angry lately.

I almost have to laugh.

Lately?

I think I’ve been angry for about twenty years.

^I’m angry my hair stylist thought chunky highlights were a good idea^

Why am I angry?

I feel like I am always fighting an uphill battle. It’s exhausting.

There’s always a running commentary in my head. It’s almost always negative.

I’m angry at myself.

I am my own worst critic.

I don’t need anyone to tell me when I’ve messed up.

I get furious with myself when I forget something, break something, mess up in any way.

I remember every little mistake I’ve ever made. It keeps me up at night.

“Why did I say that?”

“What could I have done differently?”

Every stupid choice I made as a youth.

Every harsh word to my children.

Every time I act like I’m too busy for them.

My poor parenting practices in the beginning…Did I ruin my two oldest in their formative years? Why didn’t I know better earlier?

Why can’t I lose ten pounds?

Why didn’t I ever learn to play an instrument?

Why didn’t I finish grad school and get that Ph.D?

I disappoint myself.

I’m angry at society.

Why are there so many poisonous chemicals and additives in our food?

Why are there so many victimless crimes that I have heart palpitations when I see a police car?

Why do we pay so many taxes for services we don’t need, want, or ever use?

Why is there still childism, sexism, racism in our modern world?

Why do we still not believe women who have been harassed or assaulted? We learn it’s easier to remain silent, stifle the feelings of unfairness and injustice. Just move on.

Why do we have a narcissistic playboy running our country?

Why does it feel like 1968 and all our progress is being reversed?

I’m angry at my parents.

I was pretty much left to my own devices. By most standards, I had a great childhood. But when I became an adult (a long arduous process), I realized how broken it really was.

Their love was and is conditional.

They disowned me when I was 20. They sent me a copy of their will, all torn in pieces. They paid postage to mail me that.

They found a therapist to tell them how terrible I am.

Everything they offer comes with strings attached. They dangle expensive gifts like carrots before mules, then snatch them away and blame my poor behavior. I’m 41, not 4.

They send broken handmedowns and we get criticized if we don’t offer profuse gratitude at their thoughtfulness.

My dad hand wrote me a hate letter and mailed it to tell me what an awful mother I am because I won’t spank my children.

I realize they exhibit are narcissistic and borderline tendencies and they are codependent. Gaslighting is common.

But that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier.

They wonder why the extent of our conversations are about the weather and backyard birds.

They weren’t there for me when I needed them most. They guided me in wrong decisions. They didn’t understand my suicide attempt. They don’t talk about my abortion.

Mental health is a real thing and it needs to be discussed.

Their priorities aren’t my priorities.

It’s amazing that they can still crush my spirit.

I diligently work at not reacting to triggers.

Adult children of toxic parents have an especially difficult time with their anger because they grew up in families where emotional expression was discouraged. Anger was something only parents had the privilege of displaying.

Dr. Susan Forward

I’m angry at God.

I have so many questions. Dogma and doctrine and theological scholars don’t always answer satisfactorily.

Church has failed me more times than not.

It’s mostly pageantry, sitting in chairs and singing and shaking hands with strangers, then having a cookie and filing out the door to a mediocre life.

Christians love to discount anger. “Just pray more! Just be happy!” they say. Because surely, it’s just impossible to be a good Christian and experience any negativity.

I learned self-reliance.

So I keep my thoughts to myself.

My husband’s parents died suddenly within our first year of marriage.

We have no support system.

We never had any mentors.

We have no friends.

I’m jealous.

Our kids don’t know their cousins. They don’t understand family holidays. They’ve never gone to family reunions. They don’t have so many memories.

Sometimes, I’m so angry, but there isn’t even a definable target.

Moving every few years takes a lot out of us – physically, emotionally, psychologically. So much planning and so many unknowns.

The neverending chores. Towels wadded up on the floor. That forgotten bowl all crusty with melted dried cheese on the far counter. Cat puke on the carpet.

The unheeded advice and bailing my kids out of another scrape to coach them better next time.

That lost thing that becomes an emergency: my husband’s wallet, iPhone, keys…a daughter’s shoe, FitBit, earring, book..the teen just lost her check card after one week. When the van ate my military ID as I was going through the gate.

Sure, there are hormones and headaches every month. The weather affects my sinuses.

Moms aren’t allowed to have bad days.

I perceive my husband as emotionless. Nothing ever seems to bother him. He just plugs along.

I have enough anger for all of us.

No one ever seems outraged by the news, world events, community issues, injustice.

I’m disgusted by what is happening in the world and yet I feel helpless.

No one wants to have meaningful conversation or take action for positive change. So many desensitized and apathetic.

Bloggers make themselves feel better by buying and peddling sustainable clothing from charities to combat oppression in third world countries. Social media and the internet are all a comparison trap.

Who do I fight?

My generation is known for its feelings of futility and apathy. We grew up with receiving trophies and stickers for everything, having earned nothing, being handed the world on a silver platter without having to world for anything. Inflated grades, so much self-esteem. Worthless college degrees and too few jobs. Our expectations don’t meet the reality.

Then the internet and social media come into the picture. Heaven help us.

I’m fighting for a better world for my children.

My anger gives me the momentum to continually evaluate and improve.

I’m angry that even when I speak up, I remain unheard.

Anger is often a mask.

It’s inappropriate to show negative emotions in our society. We’re supposed to answer, “Fine!” when someone asks how we are.

Fear, frustration, powerlessness, pain…often exhibit as anger.

Depression and anxiety. More anger.

Military healthcare downplays mental health. It’s a stigma. Here’s a breathing app with a monthly membership fee. Here’s a pill that may give you awful side effects. It’s a joke.

I wasn’t allowed to express emotions or be my true self as a child and youth. I was told I was worthless and that the things I liked were stupid.

It’s taken me so many years to rediscover that I love art, music, bugs, animals, hiking, and more.

I’m repairing 5-year-old me, going back to before school destroyed her. Rebuilding who I was meant to be.

It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to have negative emotions.

It’s not ok to allow anger to become overwhelming or all-enveloping.

I know when I need to deal with my anger. It’s time for me to be alone and work it out so I don’t lash out.

I go for a walk. I take a bath. I journal. I cook something. I do chores. I pray. I exercise.

It’s important to use anger as a catalyst for personal growth rather than letting it fester.

How do you manage your anger?

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Military Spouse Mental Health

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I’ve read a plethora of articles recently (specifically here and here) about depression and substance abuse among military spouses. Many of the reactions to this “news” is “Well, duh!” from so many spouses who have experienced stress while being married to a military member.

Do military spouses experience more stress than other spouses?

While I knew what I was getting into when I married my husband, that doesn’t negate the stress I’ve felt over the years. Many spouses have rose-colored glasses and don’t quite comprehend the moving around, deployment, or protocol issues involving rank and military careers.

Military spouses are overwhelmed and unheard, often too scared to reach out for help when they need it most.

Telehealth company Thrivetalk has released a study on the mental health of an often-neglected group: military spouses. And a whopping 66% of survey respondents agree with that statement, saying they often feel ignored by society. 

The Department of Defense estimates there are over 1 Million military spouses. During the pandemic, over 50% of military spouses have reduced visiting if their partner lives on base. 84% of respondents said that their feelings of isolation have increased during COVID-19, yet only 23% have received mental health support. 

Prairie Conlon, LPC, NCC & Clinical Director of Thrivetalk has a postgraduate degree in military behavioral health and had this to say: 

It’s well-documented the mental health challenges veterans face, but now we can see statistics pointing to the toll it takes on military spouses, too.

Prairie Conlon, LPC, NCC & Clinical Director of Thrivetalk

Military Spouse Mental Health

What are some of the stressors facing military spouses?

Loss of Career

Many spouses put their careers on hold or terminate their employment altogether when marrying into the military.

It’s difficult to keep resumes updated with gaps of several years due to PCSing, having babies, moving out of the country. At many military installations, the only job options that seem available to spouses are cashiering at the Exchange or bagging groceries at the commissary. While that doesn’t look appealing to many, sometimes the cash flow is needed to support a growing family.

Some careers are more mobile than others. Some spouses become entrepreneurs or get involved with MLMs. And then they have to pack all that up and move every few years, find new clients and contacts.

After experiencing almost every single life stressor on the index during our first two years of marriage, I ended my career as an English professor to stay home and educate my own children. While I don’t regret that decision, I do sometimes feel less-than, especially in social situation when I am just the stay-at-home, homeschooling mom.

It wasn’t much of a choice.

Marriage Struggles

Being married to a military member is sometimes really tough.

And I’m not talking about just deployments and PCS stuff.

My concerns are often very different from my husband’s. I often look at a bigger picture.

I’ve tried the spouse clubs. I’ve tried volunteering. It’s like middle school all over again. I never go to functions. It doesn’t affect my husband’s career, no matter what anyone says, if I’m there or not. No one cares. No one notices.

My husband works with many different people all day, every day. I understand he has a work persona.

I also understand that when he’s home, he’s always on call. He’s had to leave in the middle of the night for emergencies. He’s had to go TDY and missed important family events. He left for deployment on our anniversary.

It’s my job to remind him that he is a father and a husband. Work is not everything.

He also doesn’t like to make decisions at home since he makes so many at work. I’m usually fine making the decisions. I’m confident and efficient. But I sometimes actually want his input or help. I don’t want to nag. I don’t want to have a tantrum about the smelly trash every week. I shouldn’t have to remind him to change the tires before it snows. Sure, I’m in charge of home and homeschool and he works away from home all day. It’s more than a full-time job for me too. I’m never “off duty.” I don’t get an OPR or EPR. I don’t get awards for doing my job.

Our household needs both parents to work well.

I want the kids’ memories to be good ones. I want them to grow up and desire to visit home for the holidays. I struggle every day to develop a healthy family atmosphere.

Family Issues

We’ve chosen to homeschool our four kids, and that relieves a lot of stress involving school. But even in the homeschool community, we’ve sometimes had issues fitting in. Some places followed a traditional school schedule and their activities began before our household goods and homeschool items arrived. We were empty-handed for several weeks.

Finding activities for my kids to participate in has sometimes been hard. Gymnastics was a thing for a while, but taking breaks for months and testing into a class every time we moved took its toll and my kids didn’t feel it was worth trying to keep up.

Overseas family activities are often only available on base and the quality is just really poor with such a monopoly. We decided not to waste our money anymore.

There are few options for teenagers to get part-time jobs – or even drive – when stationed overseas. Overseas education options are DODS or homeschool, occasionally private schools in English might be available.

Deployment

Of course deployments are hard. Those months away can be scary. It’s hard having a long-distance relationship. It’s hard to feel left behind while the military member is off doing a job keeping our world safe. Communication is often sporadic.

But the preparation for the separation is tough too. Arguments, bitterness, sadness, anger – these feelings are normal and natural, even if they add stress to an already stressful sitation. They help prepare us for a long time apart. We try to distance ourselves so it doesn’t hurt so much.

Then, upon return, the reintregation process can be hard. The spouse has dealt with everything alone for months and feels awkward making room again. Returning to a routine that was normal before the deployment seems weird. The military member has lived a completely different life during deployment and returning to a life and routine at home feels strange.

All of this creates lots of friction – for a long time. Kids find it really hard to understand. They’re just happy to have both parents at home.

PCS

It gets really tiresome moving every few years. Some people may think it’s exciting to get to move around, starting over new.

And it was for the first few times.

After 5, 6, 7, or more moves around the world, it gets exhausting.

We lament that we will forever be renters.

My soul longs for a place to call home.

My kids have no hometown. Their memories take place all over and I find it hard to reconcile that sometimes. We don’t have a doorpost with measurements marking the heights of our kids over the years.

After living in one place for three years, the kids get antsy, knowing it’s almost time to move on. They have a transient life.

PCS time is a huge, long process of waiting. Waiting for news, official orders, dates for packing and moving and traveling. Then more waiting. For household goods to arrive. Finding a new place to live. Unpacking, organizing, settling…for just a few years. Until we do it all again.

The first year in a new location is getting to know everything, learning our way around, trying to fit in.

The second year is comfortable, feeling almost like we belong, enjoying everything the area has to offer.

The third year is realizing we’re gonna move soon. We mentally shut down, purging stuff we won’t need in our new location or things we can’t take – like houseplants, outgrown toys, 220 plugs.

Then panic sets in. We realize we’re never gonna see that flower bloom again. This is the last snowfall here for us. We’ll never get to visit there like we planned. It makes me physically ill, grieving because it’s a loss I can’t control.

Then hope peeks through. We wonder where our next location will be. We imagine a nice, big yard with a garden, better than this one. We hope we can find a good kitchen with double ovens. We long for a fireplace since we didn’t have one here. Then we worry about commute times and gas prices. How will I budget when we don’t know the price of utilities and food? Will the new neighbors be nice and welcoming? Will we be able to find a church right away? I worry about how our family will fit in to a new location when we move. Just because our BAH might cover a certain amount, doesn’t mean I want to live in certain areas. We’re not country club people.

I count milestones by which locale we were living when they took their first step, got stitches, learned to ride a bike.

We have to have a different definition of home than most. Home is wherever we’re all together, even if that’s by Skyping during a deployment or in a TLF apartment for a month. Home is where I do the wugga chugga after bathtime. It’s where we read the stories and say the prayers before bedtime.

We count holidays by which kitchen we made Thanksgiving dinner or celebrated a birthday. We usually spend holidays alone or travel, trying to forget it’s a holiday.

Is that the year in Hawaii I had a Blue’s Clues birthday?

My kids lose track of friends when we move away. Those friends grow up, forgetting, losing touch. It makes us sad. We remember. We reminisce the fun moments.

Remember when Natalia and I played at the creek at that park in San Antonio and we caught tadpoles?

I live the losses along with my children. I long for them to have roots. And a place to call home.

Etc.

It might seem petty to complain about some things, but it’s not like the average spouse has most of these issues. And they are real issues to me and many military spouses.

Moving to new living quarters every few years brings stress with finding a rental that suits us and meets our needs.

Researching areas in a new city within the housing allowance, and calculating expenses within a budget, along with commute times to the military member’s new post is a stressful experience – and usually falls to the spouse alone. Then, there are comforts to purchase to make it home, often with very little money – curtains, rugs, maybe even furniture. Money is always an issue.

I worry about our items in storage. What if they’re damaged or lost? They’re our memories and ties to the past.

I wonder if our lawn mower will work after 3 years in the shed, unused. Will we have unnecessarily moved it across the world twice only to have to buy a new one after all?

Finding a new church is a HUGE issue. I hate church shopping.

I want my kids to have friends, to be able to play and be as normal as possible.

I loathe having to find new dentists and hair stylists. It just sucks.

We seldom seem to fit in. We don’t have family around for support. It’s hard making friends when they know you’ll just move away in a few years.

Please understand: It’s not all bad.

We’ve gotten to live all over the world and experience some amazing travel – learning about history, culture, art. My kids are resilient for having to move to a new location every few years. The world is a smaller place to them than it was to me at their age.

I think military spouses are at greater risk for depression, substance abuse, and more. It’s a very stressful life. Without proper support systems in place, it’s even harder.

Who do you turn to for help when you need it?

Mental health services aren’t ideal for active duty members or dependants.

We’re required to have a minimum of 3 appointments with a Behavioral Health Optimization Program (BHOP) provider before a referral off-base to a civilian mental health professional who is on the TRICARE provider list.

The most the BHOP offered were breathing exercises, a smartphone app with a monthly membership fee (sponsored and created by the Air Force), and Christian pseudo-psychology self-help books. It was a joke.

A referral can be hit or miss. What if I don’t click with the therapist? What happens with continuity since we move so frequently? It sucks to have to start over with therapy every few years. There is no continuity of care.

Military OneSource offers a list of resources for mental health.

There is a stigma in the military with mental health. No one wants that on their record. No one wants to be tagged EFMP for mental health. No one wants to be dinged on evaluations or passed over on promotions due to asking for help. Nothing is really private. 

Are You Stressed

Do you seem to carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders?

Turn off the news. Get off the Internet. Get outside and try to relax.

How are you affected?

Learn to recognize the symptoms of stress.

What can you control?

Make amends.

What can you change?

Try to let it go instead of worrying about it.

What can you set aside?

Simplify! Say NO.

How can you fill your love tank?

Take care of yourself.

You can read about how we use essential oils to help with our moods. I also use a Happy Lampin winter and make sure my vitamin D levels are high.

Evidence-based research on PTSD and substance abuse in military veterans:

New survey findings show differences between veterans and active-duty service members’ perceptions about mental health, showing a shift in attitudes toward seeking professional help.

  • Only 30% of veterans have sought or considered mental health counseling, compared to 72% of active-duty service members.
  • 91% of active-duty service members say their leadership openly discusses the importance of addressing mental health concerns, compared to only 23% of veterans.
  • 89% of active military members believe people who receive professional counseling generally get better, compared to 66% of veterans.

Are you stressed?

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How to Be Happy

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I’ve suffered from depression for most of my life.

I was a melancholy, serious child.

I was a sullen teen.

I was a self-destructive young adult.

I struggled as a young wife and mother.

I’m 40 now, and while I don’t have all the answers, I have come to terms with who I am, what my expectations are, what my needs are, and what my goals for the future should be.

Being happy isn’t really the goal.

I don’t need a dare or challenge to be happy.

The idea of happiness calls to mind laughter and silliness, and that’s not usually lasting joy.

I prefer to use the term “content.”

I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance andneed. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. Philippians 4:11b-13

It’s not my job to make my children happy.

I’m not their entertainer, fixer, cruise director.

I don’t plan playdates or fix their conflicts with each other or teachers.

Kids need to learn to manage their negative feelings in order to be successful adults. If I run to fix every negative feeling or try to take it away, I create fragile kids. I prefer to listen to their complaints and then ask them what they’re going to do about it. Sometimes, they just need to vent or an empathetic shoulder to cry on – with no advice or fixing.

I see many parents who exhibit immature behavior and emotions, threatening their children, being passive-aggressive, narcissistic. They place blame on the child for their own poor reactions to disappointment. The media portrays many adults with dysfunctional emotions and even glorifies the immature parent who cannot show their children unconditional love or healthy emotions.

And I’ve lived some very dark days.

It’s my job as a parent to model happiness, being content, the spectrum of healthy emotions to all of life’s ups and downs.

These are the ways I’ve found over the last few years help me to be happy:

  1. Forgive.

    There’s just no point holding onto anger, hatred, bitterness. Let it go. I’ve seen the horrible effects of unforgiveness and how it hurts everyone. Also, forgiving oneself is extremely difficult. I am still learning how to deal with disappointment in a healthy way.

  2. Get outside.

    I try to go outside at least 30 minutes a day. It’s often hard and I don’t always feel like it, especially if the weather isn’t ideal. The fresh air and nature is good for me. I try to take a little walk around the village, or preferably a little hike on our forest trail. Sometimes, I just sit in the garden. It provides peaceful reflection.

  3. Eliminate stress.

    I actively evaluate and re-evalute everything we do and have to eliminate clutter and stress. I try to exercise regularly. I want to be healthy and still be around for my grandkids. Stress weakens the heart and mind.

  4. Worship.

    It’s taken me years to educate myself about religion and faith and really seek God. While it’s a lifetime process, I finally feel like I’m on the right track to a faith-filled life. Prayer really works.

  5. Turn off.

    Don’t trade in emotions for food, screens, or retail therapy. There’s no reason for a screen to be on all the time. Interact with family and friends or just sit in silence. Noise is stressful. I don’t have a TV now but I never used one for background noise. I like to hear the birds and crickets and wind and rain.

  6. Get rest.

    I make sure to get enough sleep. I also take time to rest in the afternoons, with tea and music or a good book. We need rest to assimilate new information. I also like to take walks alone in the mornings before our day begins. It helps me to recharge. We have a restful and peaceful home and homeschool without stress or rushing around with too many obligations.

  7. Express yourself.

    I think too many of us spend too much time worrying about what others think and we seldom express our true selves, maybe not even to ourselves. Do what you love. Create. Write. Wear the hat. Buy the shoes. Paint your nails. Do what you love. Be who you are meant to be. Often expressing emotions in a creative or healthy way can help us to overcome the past or the negativity. I’m still learning to get in touch with my creative side after years of suppression.

  8. Be affectionate.

    Life is too short for regrets. While I’m not a big hugger, I remind myself to fill up the love tanks of my children. I learn their love languages and listen for their needs and I try to meet them.

  9. Replace the voice.

    You know the one. That sometimes rather loud voice that tells you that you’re not enough. Start training that voice to say something else. Think positive. While there’s always room for improvement, it’s never necessary to beat yourself down. Grant yourself small victories and reward yourself for meeting little goals.

  10. Eat well.

    I evaluated our eating habits years ago and made some changes and we’re all a lot healthier on natural whole foods than processed, chemical dyes, artificial flavorings, and fake sugars. We like good food and we learn how to make it as a family.

I often need to remind myself about this list.

It’s my job to be a role model for my children, modeling healthy emotional behaviors and reactions.

I also use essential oils and take dietary supplements and I feel that these help boost my moods. I’m always learning. I’m always re-evaluating my priorities.

I still sometimes sink into a rut or something upsets me or reminds me of the past. It’s important to allow a moment to grieve. It’s healthy to give into emotions and embrace them occasionally, but never to wallow in the negative.

And never say the trite little “Just smile more. Just pray more. Just be happy. How can you be sad?”

Depression is real. This is how I choose to manage it.


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Step Away From the Edge: Depression

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I woke up to my social media feeds being inundated with people expressing their love for the iconic Robin Williams. Most were fans, but few seemed to understand that just because he was a professional comedian and actor, he was wealthy, attractive, probably had a loving family…he still was depressed and apparently committed suicide.

Bloggers immediately jumped on this viral topic to gain some pageviews off this tragic event. Parasites.

Some posted images and quotes from movies, commemorating his art. Others begged for mental illness awareness – honorable, that. Still others used this event as a platform to spew hatred and Bible verses down upon the weary.

Because that’s what Jesus wants.

He wants His Word used as a weapon against those who need Love and Truth and Understanding. Those who struggle every.single.day. to just complete menial tasks that you take for granted. Just to get through another day. To breathe. To live.

And I don’t discount The Gospel. We all need His saving grace, but we need people to speak with love and gentleness. The Christian church needs to quit spouting off that depression can just be cured with a magic wand of some joy, joy, joy down in my heart, three sessions of Christian counseling with some pompous pastor’s wife who has no life experience, and more church ministry involvement to keep our minds busier.

I haven’t showered in two days. I have an ear infection. I’m going through the motions of doing dishes and laundry and making peanut butter chocolate chip oatmeal cookie bars. I’m educating my three children really well (gasp!) this week…while I have panic attacks over Liz being away at Civil Air Patrol encampment for.seven.days. These are the longest days ever without her here.

And I remember.

It could’ve been me.

Step Away From the Edge

Because I know what I would leave behind.

A husband. Four children. Two cats. Parents. Friends, cousins, acquaintances…a dozen deadlines. They keep me here, plugging along. And I wonder those thoughts you don’t dare admit consciously. Sometimes, everything is so overwhelming. And no one understands.

Depression is not a choice. No one would choose this. No one wants to feel this way. If I had a choice, I’d be any other way but this.

Is it selfish? Maybe. But I felt cornered, alone, lost. Jesus and hope and love seemed far away. We who are trained to never be selfish feel guilt upon guilt and just want it all to stop.

Circumstances don’t matter.

Money and fame don’t mean a thing. Bible verses don’t help. Often, meds don’t help but exacerbate the problems or cause other unpleasantness. We’re surrounded by all these people who love us, but yet we still feel lost and alone. And in the midst of the darkness of depression, the desperation…I don’t hear Jesus. That’s the evil of it. The perfection of the darkness, the loss of self, the hatred of being.

I unconsciously push people away who try to get too close, even my husband and children. It’s not normal. Keeping them at arm’s length is a defense mechanism, a self-deprecating behavior, that we’re not good enough to accept love and affection.

People tell me to “snap out of it” or “pray more” or “seek joy,” as if it were that easy. People tell me to count my blessings. That just makes me feel guilty for still feeling this way. People remind me of my wonderful family and all the places I get to live. Of course, I realize all that, but locale doesn’t make a difference. For all the 1000 reasons to be thankful, if that were enough, then we’d all be shiny happy people all the time.

I was depressed in Georgia.

I was depressed in Texas. (It was triple bad, having had two babies fourteen months apart.)

I was depressed in Hawaii, people. Yes, even there.

I was depressed in Utah. Why doesn’t spring come until July?

I was depressed in Germany. Despite my happy lamp and all the fun travelling.

I manage it. I eat well and use essential oils and supplements.

But it’s always just at bay, waiting to rage down upon me, ravaging everything in its path.

I make sure my vitamin D levels are up. I make sure I get outside in the fresh air and sunshine. I exercise (sometimes), eat right, and drink water. I try not to take too much caffeine or alcohol because I know that can trigger a downward spiral.

I do all the “right” things…and it’s still there. A thorn in my flesh. A dark cloud hanging over my head. The slug who eats all my flower buds.

Pray for us, friends. Be compassionate. Pray for the Williams family. Pray for all the families who have lost loved ones to mental illness and its issues. Pray for all those suffering in silence because of the fear of admitting to the pain. Quit judging and pointing fingers and offering unsolicited advice. Sometimes medicine is the answer.

Don’t say you understand if you don’t. Don’t offer pompous advice if you have no clue what it’s like. Having a friend or loved one who is depressed is not knowing what it’s like.

You can see, but you don’t really understand unless you’ve been on the precipice.

Step away from the edge.

Keep pluggin’ on. Get help if you need it. Please. Don’t give up.

Get help here.

Note: I am not a doctor nor a therapist. These are just some methods that have helped me through the last ten years or so. Perhaps these resources can help others. If you feel hopeless, please tell someone immediately and seek professional help.

There’s always hope.

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I Attempted Suicide

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I am a survivor of an attempted suicide.

I am a survivor of attempted suicide.

I spent Christmas 1997 in a series of hospital environments because I attempted to commit suicide.

Essentially, I was locked up for my own safety for over a week.

I had reached a breaking point.

Circumstances beyond my control, that were not my fault, wreaked havoc on my sensitive heart, mind, and soul. I have always felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I want to help everyone, fix everything.

I was twenty years old.

The world was not my responsibility.

My parents were not my responsibility.

Friends were not my responsibility.

I should’ve been carefree and fancy free and my biggest worry should have been only my next semester classes at college. And they weren’t strenuous. I was in my last year.

My parents weren’t divorced. They fought. They were stressed. But they were together.

There were no drugs or abuse stories. Nothing exciting or tawdry there. No soap opera.

Normal boring middle class white kid with a brilliant future ahead of her.

Sure, there was that whole lack of trust, angst, misunderstood thing. First world problems. I should have occupied my time with meaningful activities. I wonder if that would have helped or just delayed the inevitable.

So, why? you’re probably asking. I’m hoping everyone who reads this will wonder and cannot relate. I hope and pray you never reach a breaking point like I did.

Depression and anxiety are very real. And in the midst of it, thinking clearly is seldom an option. Depression sucks the life and hope from your soul. Anxiety is all-encompassing and there is no rationale for those fears and worries. And I was not a Christian then.

I was lost.

In so many ways.

I felt abandoned. I felt stifled.

Helpless. Hopeless. Pointless. Worthless. Less than.

I was right where the devil wanted me.

I don’t feel I need to go into too many details. A bottle of pills. An ambulance. Lots of scary lights and loud voices.

Fear. So much fear. And I gave in to it.

It was a close call. It was a cry for help. I didn’t really receive the kind of help I thought I wanted at the time. My body was saved. The doctors said it was a miracle I didn’t damage any organs. I was perfectly fine after the drugs were removed from my system.

But it would be many years yet before my mind and soul would be fine.

I had to walk down that road. I had to be completely broken to accept true healing.

Essentially, I know God saved me. For a purpose. I didn’t realize anything then.

I really just wanted the pain to stop. It just hurt to be alive. It hurt to see others hurting themselves and each other. It hurt me to witness that. Since I couldn’t stop it, I wanted out. Like gasping for air, or clawing out of a hole, I just wanted freedom.

That kind of freedom isn’t escape. It’s bondage. When we believe those dark lies and spiral down into the pit of despair, it’s not escape. It’s fear. It’s ragged hopelessness that it will ever improve. And being oh, so alone in it.

Only Jesus is Freedom. But I couldn’t accept that yet.

But too many Christians are depressed and are not finding the help they seek within the Church or compassion from Christians. Why is that?

When I search online for depression and Christians, all the articles are shallow and unhelpful. They preach that Christians shouldn’t experience mental health problems because we believe in Jesus! Our experiences are discounted, unvalidated, and we feel even worse, so we shut up those feelings even more inside. We hurt in silence, alone.

Did you know that after a suicide attempt, you are locked up against your will for your own safety? It’s the law.

It felt like more punishment.

I experienced a couple weeks of in-house therapy and meds after my attempt. I lost almost ten pounds and I was only about 125 then! The other patients frightened me too. They seemed really quite ill in a different way than I felt I was. Many had attempted suicide multiple times and had lots of other issues. They were all so kind. I felt so out of place.

The therapists, of course, were not Christian. They were very New Age and humanistic. I got so many mixed messages about following my dreams no matter the cost to others. Please myself and let others go. Grow up and take responsibility for my actions. I was right and everything else was wrong. I was too young and inexperienced and just a lost little girl who needed her parents to guide her because I was too fragile to function on my own.

I think therapists just tell you what you want to hear. I didn’t know what to believe. The staff almost treated me like an adult, but then again, made me feel like a naughty little girl who disobeyed and rebelled against my attentive and loving parents. My parents were just mad at me.

Where was Jesus? He carried me, but I didn’t know.

Where was compassion or any real help? Where was the empathy?

No one understood.

I was eventually released. Too soon. Too little gained. So much lost.

Back to my parents’ house. Where I felt like was a little child again. They tiptoed around me, walking on eggshells, quiet and fearful. Where many rules were enforced and reinforced. No social activity for me. I felt like I was on restriction for a misbehavior. It was surreal.

I had no autonomy. I couldn’t individuate. I couldn’t grow or function normally.

I was medicated on Prozac, that go-to drug at that time, before other, somewhat safer alternatives were known or appreciated.

I did not function well on Prozac. The side effects were horrible. I felt so out of control with overwhelming emotions all the time. One of the weirdest things is that I would sleep exactly eight hours to the minute each night. Physically, I felt great.

I was still lost.

I had nothing to do while I waited for school to start again. No job. No friends. I was an embarrassment. To my family, friends. To myself.

Shortly after returning home, my mom took me to the mall. Retail therapy, I suppose. At the ice cream shop, I waited patiently for the clerk to finish cleaning up something so I could order a cone. Another lady apparently needed an ice cream fix so badly that she rudely shouldered me out of the way to order. I glared at her in frustration. I had been obviously standing there a while and she just walked up! Inside, I really wanted to hurt her. I’ve always been rather passive, letting it go when things like that happen. It’s not worth it. It’s just easier to let it go than confront people over situations like that that don’t really matter. My mind wandered to how I wanted to confront her and I stood there, daydreaming I slapped her. My palm itched almost uncontrollably. I was shaking when I sat down at a table with my ice cream. I could hardly enjoy the treat. I was scared of myself. I was frightened by the level of my anger. Over something so meaningless. That I would ordinarily shrug off.

It was frightening. The memory is so vivid that it makes me sick to my stomach. My palms still itch when I remember.

After a month or so, my life really fell apart, because nothing was fixed. Nothing was different. Everyone wanted to pretend it all away. But that’s another story for another day.

I think the suicide of Rick Warren’s son is a wake-up call to Christians. That poor boy hurt so badly that he desired to leave this world. It was too much for him. The world wakes up again with Robin Williams’ death. Many celebrities recently have chosen to end their lives, leaving behind devastated spouses and precious children and sad fans. But everyone just wants to argue and be pompous or saddened while nothing changes and no one is compassionate and few are helped. There is no empathy.

It’s not for us to understand or judge. But I think we should help each other more. We should try harder to support one another through trials. I think a lot of depression and anxiety is spiritual warfare. How easy to confuse Christians with a fog of mental darkness. We’re blinded too easily. And have no one and nowhere to turn for help.

Depression is evil.

What can we do?

Pray.

Prayer is powerful to ward off evil forces. Pray for light and protection from evil. Pray for the body’s chemistries to be healed and aligned. Find a prayer partner or group. Pray that our children will not share in this legacy. It’s often not the endall beall to healing, but it’s a beginning. Ask friends, family members, your church to pray. I often journal scripture, poetry, and prayer. Meditation and contemplation is great too.

Read.

Read holy books out loud. Do a Bible concordance search. Many of the prophets suffered from depression. Get a good Bible study. Again, this is often not the only help depression needs to heal. But it’s a great start. Get an accountability partner. Ask your pastor or church leadership for help and prayer. If they scoff at your illness, find a new church. Self-help books are great places to start for answers. Sometimes, I like to read about the struggles of others or just a sappy book.

Fellowship.

I rarely feel like it. It takes a lot of effort for me to be around people and be social. But when I hole up away from people, that’s when the darkness likes to creep in. It’s worse to be alone with it. Connection matters.

Take care of yourself, physically.

When I don’t feel well, then my emotions run down too. Eat right. Exercise. Get out in the sunshine whenever possible. Drink water. Dance. Play with your kids. Take cod liver oil. Diffuse essential oils to help boost your mood. Get a Happy Lampfor those dark days of winter. I know it’s hard.

Occupy your mind.

If your mind has too much free time and it wanders to negative thoughts, occupy it. Write. Start a blog. Read a book. Take up a hobby like art or woodworking. Learn to play music. Do a puzzle. Play a game. Learn something along with your spouse or child, sibling, or friend. Volunteer with children or the elderly. Go to church. Exercise. Take a class. Feed the birds. Get a pet. Create arts and crafts. Do good.

Counseling.

I know there are good counselors out there. You can also turn to trusted friends or family members. It might be hard to open up and be honest with yourself and others. {Do you think writing this post was easy?} Let the Holy Spirit guide you. Don’t be afraid to say no after a meeting or two and find someone else. Some secular therapists might be better to meet your needs. Here’s a good guide and checklist to finding a therapist.

Medication.

I know some people’s bodies just need help leveling out. Like high blood pressure or high cholesterol, you may need meds for your serotonin and/or dopamine levels. (I have never found a med that I could cope with, but you may have great success.)

Depression and anxiety are real illnesses.

Don’t judge people who take a pill for depression because I know you don’t judge those who take a pill for diabetes. Some people need meds just occasionally. Others need it daily for an extended time. Find a physician who can work with you, a therapist, your family, your needs, to find the right combination for your needs. I’ve tried different meds and I didn’t like any of them with their side effects. But I respect those who do need them and find they help.

People have told me that they didn’t know I have issues with depression.

What do I say to that? Should I be glad that it doesn’t show? Should I be proud that I’ve hidden it well? It’s not something people often discuss in polite company. Most shy away from mental illness conversations. There’s a societal stigma that we’ve done something to deserve this or we should be able to “snap out of it.”

I often hear phrases like, “Just smile more. Just be happy. Just imagine you’re in your happy place. What do you have to be sad about?”

And people can experience short-term blues, sure.

That is not depression.

People who have never experienced mental illness can’t possibly understand.

Contact a suicide hotline for help.

Suicide is selfish. It’s a cry for help. It’s a last resort. It’s because we have no voice or feel like no one hears us. We’re so desperate that we have to be that selfish.

I hold on during my darkest days because I have responsibilties to my children and husband. I want to be there for their future.

As Christians, we often think that we can’t or shouldn’t feel that way, ever. How can we love and serve Jesus and still be depressed? But I often am. I know others struggle too. Maybe it’s just our fallen world. Perhaps it’s our thorn we must bear. Maybe some of us are more empathetic than others. We feel everything more.

I think it hurts even more now that I am a Christian. But Jesus helps me bear it, especially when other Christians disappoint or hurt me.

I feel more acutely aware of others’ pain. I think that’s seeing with the eyes of Jesus. And if I hurt like this, what must He feel?

And what can I do about it?

It helps to serve others and take action to ease another’s burden.

There’s always hope.

My friend, Amanda, tells it like it is. She’s not scared. I hope her book helps you like it helped me: Finding Joy in Depression.  I highly recommend it and there are some great resource links in it too.

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Note: I am not a doctor nor a therapist. These are just some methods that have helped me through the last ten years or so. Perhaps these resources can help others. If you feel hopeless, please tell someone immediately and seek professional help.

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Balancing Act

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I’ve been reading many posts lately from bloggy friends about their struggles with anger and depression.

Balancing Act

While my heart goes out to them, it’s so good to know that I’m not alone. I think it’s important for us to be transparent with our struggles so we can help each other through them. Online communities are great places for us to feel safe to reveal a part of ourselves without judgment. I think Jesus is blessing us through these Christian outreach programs. Moms need outlets and, seriously, who has the time or money to go to therapy? Or a spa?

While I would never confess to my Sunday school class the history or extent of my anger or depression issues, it seems more than ok to blog about it to the world. Are we that anonymous? I feel more love reaching out to me from strangers on the Interwebz than from real world acquaintances.

So, it’s time to get real, y’all.

While most people who know me in real life seem to think I have it all together, I know that I am just moments away from a total breakdown. The balancing act is so fragile that it takes all my efforts to maintain this façade of ease. I have battled depression since my childhood.

I could regale you with all sorts of sad tales of my miserable experiences at school, but I will suffice it to say that I had major anxiety that led to weekly migraines. I am absolutely socially inept. Being raised in the South, this was a nightmare for my socially adept mother. I just didn’t participate in social events. She still has not forgiven me for not attending senior prom.

Education became my escape. It was something I could lose myself in and not have to face reality. I wasted much time taking worthless college classes to postpone graduation. It was an idol. I was not a Christian.

When the inevitable graduation loomed, coupled with the abandonment of a boyfriend (an extremely unhealthy relationship), I attempted suicide.

God had plans for me. I should not have survived.

The resurrection of my life was slow and painful. My relationship with my parents was in shambles. The boyfriend was devastated and confused and regretful.

So we got married.

Misery.

That fear of reality? Oh yeah. Wham, in my face.

So I had a lovely worthless BA in English. I completed my M.Ed. I taught high school English.

We got divorced.

But I have my Elizabeth.

Jesus found me.

I lost five jobs in two years. Unprofessionalism. Anger issues. Relationship issues.

Church people betrayed me.

When I had virtually no prospects for my future, a mortgage, a car payment, a young daughter developing issues of her own…

God brought me Aaron.

And Aaron picked up the pieces. Just like the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme.

It’s so difficult for me to reconcile my past with my present.

My superiority complex means I hate myself more than you could ever…

Jesus forgives but I can never forget.

It took me a looooooong time to get comfortable with this whole stay at home mom thing. It really sucks sometimes that I have all this formal education and no one to whom to impart all this built up knowledge. I get frustrated that I seem to do the same drudgery each and every day with no appreciation. It seems like so little to impact the world. I feel so worthless.

My husband gets to bank blood from American soldiers to pump into wounded soldiers in Afghanistan. It may be hard to take seeing those poor people fight, but at least it’s something more than brainless domestic duties. He’s actively helping people and making a difference in the world.

At least I don’t hide in the closet anymore. God has seen me through terrible times. I am now able to look back at how I’ve grown. Aaron has loved me and saved me from myself. Both loved me before I loved myself. Both know that I am more than I was. Both are healing me.

But still I struggle. I forget. I stumble down that dark hallway. It gets so hard to find my way out again. I see the confused looks on my kids’ faces when I snap at them for no reason or break a promise because I don’t feel well enough or forget to plan a meal. It breaks my heart. I don’t want to be like this. Why does it have to be so difficult?

It shouldn’t be.

So, nowadays I struggle with seemingly silly stuff. (ooh, alliteration!)

I loathe doing dishes. I mean, even loading the dishwasher. It makes me feel all icky to get my hands greasy. It’s my least favorite chore. ew

I really don’t like pushing my two-year-old on the swing in the backyard. I hang my head in shame. I know that makes me the worst mommy ever. I’d really just rather read on the sofa and watch from the window.

I am not a crafter. Messy projects make me cringe. I wish I was more into art. In my head, it looks so appealing, but then I have to clean it all up. Again, the shame!

I struggle a great deal with menu planning and budgeting. I get great ideas. I get inspired (and disgusted) with all the great (and not so great) menu plans online. I don’t bother to post any of mine here because they usually fly out the window. I can stick with a menu for maybe a week. I just drew one up for October and it’s already fallen flat a couple times. We spend way too much money on food. We like to eat well and use all the best ingredients, but it’s getting ridiculous to have tenderloin with six mouths to feed. And bacon prices are going up? Guess we better buy some hogs and go into homesteading or something.

While this is mostly a homeschool blog, there’s only so much I can take with snapping pictures of my kids doing math or looking cute. Most of the time, we just do whatever it takes to get through the day. Again, the guilt sets in when I see all the great science experiments and arts projects all over the blog world. And, y’all, this is beyond the blog envy I recently read about in the blog world. I feel physically ill that I am not a good enough homeschool mama to my darlins because we don’t do all these fun activities.

I just get so overwhelmed sometimes. Attempting to figure how to balance everything: exercising, housework, frugal shopping, blogging, cooking, appearances, homeschooling, flossing. Am I the only one who stresses over flossing? I told my husband tonight that I should just complete all the reviews I have pending and delete the blog because I simply cannot do it all.

But I won’t.

I will wait until this season passes. I will take my vitamins and exercise and read God’s word. I will get through this. These seasons are getting shorter and better. Perhaps someday, they will cease to come at all.

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Love Hurts

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So, at Katie’s soccer practice, I’m sitting in my van, reading, and I see this mother of 4 boys walking to her van. Two school age, one in the preschool soccer, and a baby. She started screeching at the 2nd one, probably 5 years old or so, to not get dirty. She just berated him. It was really beyond scolding. Her tone was grating and mean. He was dressed neater than the others, so maybe he was going somewhere else afterwards and shouldn’t have gotten dirt on his clothes, shoes, or hands. Of course, I don’t know her circumstances. I don’t know her children. I don’t know what her day has been like. Is her husband deployed or working a late shift? She didn’t speak to her other 3 as far as I knew while loading the baby into his carseat and packing up the stroller. I felt sorry for her eldest. He glanced at me and I smiled forlornly at him. He didn’t return my smile. If she talks to those boys like this in public, what must it be like at home? They’re just little boys. My heart broke.

I know I’ve spoken harshly to my kids. I regret it. I’m sure there have been times I didn’t even apologize. My expectations might be misguided or I might not take into consideration their circumstances or my own. Is she hungry or tired? Does he just need some water? Does she need some alone time away from her siblings to recharge? I know I’m more snappish when I’m tired or hungry or hormonal. I’m a poor example to expect them to always be cheerfully obedient when I am not. I’m a poor example when I snap at my husband (whether or not they witness it). It’s the failures we all remember more than the successes. The niceties and pleasant days are too easily forgotten and the contempt, condescension, sarcasm, and other childishness is always remembered and comes back to haunt us in every argument.

I’m sure the devil loves these little phenomena. He’s laughing his horns off that we Christians struggle as much or more in our marriages and parenting than non-Christians. Why is that? The world makes it so easy to get caught up in unimportant activities and events that hinder our testimony. We may attend church and do all the “right” things, but where is our heart? We struggle with resentments and human frailties. But we are so, so blessed.

Don’t push each other away in your pain. Lean closer and accept the love.

Corrie ten Boom understood this so well:

Do you know what hurts so very much? It’s love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain. There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill that love so that it stops hurting. But then, of course, part of us dies, too. Or we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel.

People lash out when they’re hurting.

Love Hurts

I don’t want to lash out at my children.

They deserve better.

The director of Christian education at our church recently approached me to ask if Aaron and I would teach an adult Sunday school class on marriage and parenting. She also mentioned to me that most of the kids who attend our church regularly never pray or see a Bible except during our Sunday school classes.  That tells me so much about our “Christian” families. She then told me that she “knows we’re doing it right” since the girls tell her all about the Bible study we do. Way to put on the pressure! I’ll tell ya: it’s often a struggle to fit it all in. Isn’t it as important or even more so than math, science, grammar? Bible study with the kids every morning, quiet time on my own (almost) every night, devotionals with my eldest daughter once a week, reviewing her Bible history studies…they’re starting to really get it now, though, at ages 5, 6, 11…they see Christ in so much! It is humbling to me.

So, having all this responsibility just makes it so worse when I snap at my kids or husband. Shouldn’t I do better? Shouldn’t I have it more under control than that poor woman with her four boys? Shouldn’t I be a better example? I fail and I fail and I fail at that which I long to do better. Just like Paul.

I recently taught the kids about anger when I realized Katie needed some coping strategies, but I think we all benefited. We’re working through it together. Hopefully, they will grow up having learned sooner rather than later.

Do you struggle with anger issues?

Here are some sites that may help:

Mommy Anger Management Series from Meet Penny

Parenting and Anger Series  from Creative with Kids, which is a safe haven community to discuss anger issues.

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