It's for me, too

Psalm 103:6: The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed.

In my line of work, it's super easy to become mentally, physically, spiritually exhausted. Why, you ask? One reason is the simple fact that we are expected to maintain certain -lofty- numbers. The main reason though is because we spend our days working with, consoling, educating, validating the mentally ill; some of them suffer with Major Depression, some of them deal with the crippling psychosis that comes with Schizophrenia. That's not to say that it's a pain to work with them, but it can exacerbate one's own preexisting symptoms. Sometimes, admittedly, I feel like a bit of a hero...and other times, I feel like crap, thinking that I'm not making a difference. The above verse is one that I have painted and hanging in my office, kind of like a banner representing why I do what I do.

But something hit me today, in the midst of my own (lifting) depressive episode. Those words are not just for "them"--it's for me, too. The Lord is working in me and will use this for good later-- my own, or someone else's. I'm not saying I'm "oppressed" by a person or by society or any of those things-- but oppressed mentally, bound by the shackles of my depression.

So if you're in the midst of something, too, remember that the Lord works righteousness, justice, and good through bad situations.

Everytime I cry to sleep, you're weeping with me.

I've started to write this so many times, and then stopped. Somewhat because I'm lazy, and somewhat because I'm scared. Nervous. Wondering what people will think. I'm being completely transparent and vulnerable and I'm asking for some respect. I welcome comments and conversation but anything disrespectful to me or sufferers of mental illness will not be taken lightly. I'm just gonna dive in now...

I suffer from mental illness. I've struggled with depression and anxiety for years, and oftentimes I never knew why I was depressed, specifically. When I was about 14 I went to the doctor and started on my first antidepressant-- Lexapro. And so started my journey in the mental health realm.

I could tell you lots of stories and give you lots of instances, but I'll shorten the story a bit. Over time, my symptoms became worse, and a few months ago, at 23, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder. Some of you will understand what that means, and others won't. If you know, please excuse me while I briefly explain.

Individuals with Bipolar II (which differs from Bipolar I) experience periods of both depression and hypomania. It can look a little bit different for each individual, though many qualities are shared among those with the disorder. For me, I experience periods of intense depression-- specifically, unexplained guilt, hopelessness, sadness, lack of energy, lack of interest in hobbies, tearfulness, etc-- as well as periods of hypomania. For me, that looks like hyperactivity, spontaneity, silliness, overly goal-directed behavior (working my rear off), and my craziness that some of you have gotten to see under the right circumstances. With all of this, I have immense anxiety from time to time--so much that it is hard to work because I can't concentrate well. And my depression is so crippling that it's hard to even get out of bed or take care of my son. Nothing seems real. It's like a really, really bad dream.

Thankfully, I'm on some meds, but unfortunately, they can't fix everything. For about a week now, I've been in an intense depression mixed with anxiety. I'll have moments where I don't see the point in living and I just want to give it all up. I'm not going to kill myself and this is not a cry for help. I'm simply explaining how I feel.

All of this sounds selfish, right? I have everything in the world to live for. While I've known hard times and had a few sticky situations in my childhood, I've never known tragedy personally. I have a loving, dedicated, hardworking husband and a darling son. I have a mom who is my #1 fan. I have a home, a car, a job, a bank account, a brain in my head and a lot of potential. But those of us with mental illness don't always see that. Our neurons fire all kinds of crazy and sometimes we think it would be so much easier if we weren't here.

The easy answer I get a lot is this: "Pray! You just need to pray about it!" And others say that those who are faithful to God know happiness and not defeat (THAT IS A LIE). The truth is, I have prayed about it. I do pray about it. And my problems don't go away. But it does help. I can guarantee you this, if it weren't for my relationship with God, and loved ones spending time in prayer for me, I would not be here. I would have given up months ago. Somehow, I'm hanging on. Some days it's by a thread, but I am hanging on.

I have found in the last few days that I have drawn closer to God in my defeat. Yes, it's because I'm begging for relief and comfort, but at least I'm coming to him. I think that he wants us to draw closer to him in hardship. My biggest comfort this week has been the song Solid Ground by The Museum. Here is my favorite verse and the chorus:

Every time I wander off, You're looking for me Every time I cry to sleep, You're weeping with me Every time I get back up, You're dancing with me Even in the eye of the storm I look to You, beloved I'm Yours 

All I see is a hurricane All I feel is an earthquake When I'm weak, You are stronger now So I walk on water like it's solid ground I walk on water like it's solid ground 

 I have to believe that God has a plan for me through all this. I have to believe. Because if I don't, my mind plays tricks on me to make me think that I have nothing.