Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash
Diagnosis
The diagnosis of having major depression came with a thrust and heaps of affliction on all fronts of my life. Just the night before, I spoke with my sister on the phone. Having given detail of the struggle I was enduring, I looked over a small bridge on Wabash Ave, in downtown Chicago; listening to my sister tell me it sounded as though the sum of my feelings equated to depression. Upon arriving home, I dodged the idea of looking into what depression was. The only context I ever heard it in was flippantly while around peers in high school. I never knew it was something as intrusive as this. I sat around watching Netflix until I was dissatisfied. I moved on to listen to Lauren Hill’s MTV Unplugged 2.0 on repeat until I had had enough. I wanted the emotional aches and pains to cease. The only solution that seemed to come to mind was the ending of my life. I looked at the bottle of pills I had lying around from a previous surgery. I resulted in looking up quizzes for depression.
Each gave me the usual run down. “This is not a diagnosis and if you think you may have depression, you should seek professional medical help.”…or something to that effect. Quiz after quiz, I noted the pop-ups advising me to seek asylum in a hospital for my suicidal ideations. The thought of riding the Red Line ‘L’ to Northwestern Hospital terrified me. The ongoing emotional and psychological pain was too much and I desired to numb it with whatever I could. There was a 24-hr 7 Eleven across the street from the place I lived. I figured if I could just fill my face with enough Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream, I would be OK. But there was a darkness creeping up and I could feel it making gains. I knew if I got that ice cream and came back home, when I finished it, I would more than likely take my life. So I ‘tricked’ myself. I told myself I would ‘just’ put on clothes and go to 7 Eleven but if I felt I needed to go to the hospital by the time I got to the corner, I would ‘just’ go to the hospital.
I found myself riding the ‘L’ train to the Chicago stop; walking over to Northwestern Hospital; telling the receptionist that I needed help; allowing the word ‘yes’ to leave my lips when asked was I suicidal.
Fighting the Known Battle
Popping pills wasn’t exactly something that I looked forward to, given my past history with abusing prescriptions. After all, just receiving the a diagnosis of Major Depression was enough to have me dangling over the edge of my mind by anxiety’s hand. Add the new reality of knowing what to call the dark and cloudy shadow that had followed me around since I was nine and you’ve got a nice concoction for the start of a possible end.
Upon the request of a social worker at Northwestern Hospital, arrangements for me to meet with a therapist regularly were made. I remember feeling quite nervous about meeting my therapist. Once I sat down to talk with her, an energy equivalent to preparing yourself to nail an interview or give an impressive sales pitch kicked in. I gave my usual rundown of how I grew up and the major moments that I faced in the short twenty years that I had lived. I practically had my life story memorized. I had rehearsed it so many times it became ingrained in me. It became my identity, yet, I still managed to remove myself far from it emotionally.
The casual relationship I had formed with my therapist did not last long. The feeling that I was merely carousel-ling around the trauma of my childhood with no gains or relief left me to question the necessity of the appointments. Not too long after refusing therapy, I too stopped taking medication. Years of yo-yoing on and off of medication brought me to a year long journey of being without them.
Surrender
The belief that one day I would be free of depression and medication was unshakable. I just knew there had to be a reason for me holding so tightly to this desire. One day the Scripture Isaiah 43:18-19 popped up in my mind and I believed Holy Spirit desired me to look it up.
Isaiah 43:18-19 (NLT)
[18] But forget all that – it is nothing compared to what I am going to do. [19] For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.
God The Great I AM.
I took this as a sign that I was about to be released from the prison of my mind and I would no longer need medication. I stopped taking my medication cold-turkey yet again. In my sleeplessness and desperate withdrawal from the medication, I found myself knelt down asking God why He would promise that I’d be healed. I was struggling so hard to come off of the medication. The oppression that seemed to be holding up my life and my happiness felt like it was getting the upper hand. I was beyond hurt. All the trying and failing I had been doing was leaving me to feel hopeless. I cried out to God and He heard me in that moment. Through Holy Spirit, I was made aware of the adverse effects of the prescriptions that I was on. I met with my psychologist and spoke to him about not only switching my medications, but also tapering down on the dosages. I soon found some relief but I could feel God telling me that soon, He would call for me to be done with the medications all together.
I scrambled to find supporters who would cosign what I was 54% sure God was asking of me. Let me just say, you will never need any other person to sign off on something the Creator of all things has personally told you to do. Holy Spirit lead me to Isaiah 43:18-19 again and again. It had not been too often at that point that I would receive scripture to read. I held those verses near to my heart as I kept believing for God to work a miracle in my life.
I learned the importance of navigating through life at God’s pace. That I need not run ahead of what He is preparing for me like Isaac and Sarah or straggle behind where He is calling me to go like Jonah, but to step in His stride because there is always provision there.
Handing God My Sword
Embracing my moments of weakness and realizing that I fall the hardest when I lean on my pride to give me balance has been the best and most painful thing I have had to come to terms with; and if I could be transparent, it is something that I still face every day. After being hospitalized for eight days in August, I realized I have an issue with asking people for help when it comes to matters close to my heart. It has been difficult for me to be vulnerable enough to let people know when I am not OK, and let people know how they can help when they desire to.
Many meetings with my Pastor, emails to church staff, and messages to the ladies in my small group at church and I found myself breaking out of that prideful place and out of isolation. Though I found myself back on medication after a year, I realized this time was different. I desired to need God in even the most minor of ways. I did not want to go another day with thinking I could accomplish even something as simple as making breakfast without Him. I wanted to acknowledge His hand on my life all the rest of my days. I prayed a simple prayer that God would remind me again of the beauty in simplicity. I found the prayer I had written down in a notebook and smiled when I saw it. Not only did He use my mental health as a way to help me stay close to Him, but He also showed me the peace that is truly found in being in relationship with Him. No longer was I looking at my diagnosis as a weakness holding me back but as a catalyst driving me deeper into Jesus; allowing me to become more and more like Him.
“[9] but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. [10] That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Apostle Paul (2 Corinthians 12:9-10 [NIV])
God’s words about what He was going to do in my life came as confirmation. I knew for years He was going to free me from this bondage, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to give up on what I believed He was telling me He was going to do. I thought if I felt fine enough to come off of the medications on my own that my will would be strong enough but it wasn’t. It took surrendering to Him and acknowledging that He is the only one that will ever be able to pry me out of the hands of evil and destruction. No matter what I found myself in or what fear I allowed myself to become paralyzed by, God never failed me when I called on Him, and I don’t ever expect Him to. I never thought at the beginning of this journey to freedom within the scope of mental illness that the cure was always Jesus. For years on and off I took pills. I went to therapy. I exercised. I ate right. I formed all sorts of coping skills. I did all of those things and various combinations in between but I never would have guessed that all I was ever looking for was just Jesus. Yes, I still have medication that I take and various forms of coping and therapies, but without Jesus, I would still be bound by the binds of my mind.
Heavenly Father,
How marvelous you are! OH how great is Your name! There is none like You in all the earth. I have searched and searched. I looked high and low. I looked to the east and to the west. I looked in food and herb. I looked in tech, passion, and clothes. I looked in relationship after relationship, and none ever filled me the way You have Lord. My God, how great and nourishing are Your words and how glad I am to seek after Your instruction and wisdom. You wake me up with peace in the morning and make me to lie down in it at night. I owe all I have to possibly give to You Lord! You are my light and my source of salvation! I can do nothing without You and I want all the world to know that I am weak so they may see that it is You and You alone who makes me strong! I praise Your name Jesus! Hallelujah to You, King! I will praise Your name forever!
Amen.
Warrior Letters 