Bravehearted Beauty

The loss of one of our era’s most astounding creative geniuses has many of us remembering and reflecting today. Robin Williams inspired and entertained us for decades, but beyond his twinkling blue eyes was a deep sadness. I can only imagine what he suffered beneath his infectious smile. It hurts to imagine, doesn’t it?

I’m pretty sure I judged addiction and suicide wrongly…until I experienced depression. It’s a darkness unlike any other. I had no idea. Add to that the invisible, underrated, yet very active spiritual warfare component, and you have a deathly combination. Oh, how we need a light in the darkness.

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The only way I’ve known there was a light in the darkness is by faith. Faith is believing what you cannot see. And when you’re buried deep in the darkness of depression, you can’t see a thing. My faith grew in that place. {Faith building often comes at a cost.} But there are times when you can’t believe. And these are the times when you need another person to step into your darkness and be the light. As hard, humiliating, humbling and scary as that can be, it just might save your life.

I’ve mentioned my deep sadness on the blog in the past, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t like putting myself out there like that. And some didn’t like knowing about it. I’ve learned that very few people know how to hold deep sadness. It makes people uncomfortable, and they hope it goes away soon. We prefer the infectious smile and the twinkling blue eyes. We don’t mind if an actor plays the role of one who suffers deeply, but we don’t want to enter into real life suffering. Until we’ve known it ourselves.

In honor or Robin Williams and the hundreds of thousands who suffer in silence, I feel compelled to shine some light into the darkness of depression. I wrote the words below as the fog was lifting a bit, but I was still very much in the battle. I had just heard the Lord whisper a new name to my heart: Bravehearted Beauty. I didn’t feel brave or beautiful at the time, but I chose to believe that’s how God saw me. And because He makes me brave, I can share these words with you today.

Written in February 2014:

Depression. Who wants to write about it? Who wants to have coffee and talk about it? Not the person going through it, I can tell you that! This isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but words keep bubbling up in my head and heart. And every time I try to push them aside, they just keep coming back. I have a feeling there’s a reason. I have a feeling someone needs a light in the darkness. 

Depression thrives in darkness. It gains strength in secret, hidden places. It craves isolation and loneliness. It hides in places people don’t like to go…in places where it’s not easily exposed. No wonder it’s so hard to break free! I don’t want to intellectualize depression or act like I have all the answers {I really don’t!}, but I do want to shine some light on it. Because I’ve learned enough about healing to know that it doesn’t happen in the dark or all alone. We need the light. And we need each other. 

Depression is a thief. When it comes, you forget who you are. It hovers over like a thick, cloudy veil, stealing your life and light. Robbing you of your calling and throwing a wet blanket on your passion. The real you disappears. You withdraw and isolate. You don’t call your family; you don’t answer the phone for a friend. You act like an orphan who’s all alone. You don’t want to be this girl, but you also don’t want to be the black cloud on everyone’s sunny day. Or worse, a problem to be fixed.

Depression is a liar. It tells you that no one wants to be with you like this…that you’re unlovable like this, unwanted like this. You don’t even want to be with yourself like this. {If you saw your own name on Caller ID, you wouldn’t answer.} You sink deeper into the lies until they feel completely true. Surely it’s better to be lonely and hurting than to risk connection and possible rejection.

As I let that last sentence soak in, my heart breaks…not just for myself, but for anyone who knows that dark and lonely place. The enemy’s lies feel so true in the darkness.

If only you could hear the truth, sweet girl. If only the veil would lift. If only the light would pierce through the darkness. {Truth: Your light is coming. You were meant to shine!}

There’s so much fear and shame surrounding depression. Fear hides in every corner. You name the fear, and a depressed person has felt it. More fear than I can list. It’s paralyzing. And so much of it is rooted in shame. Shame that you’re depressed, shame that you can’t snap out of it, shame that you take medication, shame that you don’t. And oh, how the shame compounds. Shame upon shame because of all that you can’t manage to do when you’re depressed. Phone calls go unreturned, emails unanswered, plans are canceled, decisions can’t be made, simple tasks pile high and friendships fall apart. The evidence of your inability to do life is everywhere.

And as if your own shame weren’t enough to send you into a downward spiral, everyone else’s life appears perfect compared to your mess. Happy marriages, accomplished children, great vacations, clean houses, fit bodies, organized to do lists, completed projects…all things you feel like depression has stolen. And so the shame deepens and the lies swirl. You’re convinced that you’re the only one in this place. {Comparison is the thief of joy for anyone. Depressed or not, we need to pay attention to where our thoughts go when we read blogs, look at Pinterest, scroll through Facebook, etc.}

So there’s fear, shame…and control. We try to control the fear that’s rooted in our shame. {Can you see the cycle?} It may not look like control when you’re depressed because you feel so messy, but I’ve just learned that even the act of withdrawing is a form of control. {Passive, but it’s still control.} I exert that kind of control when I go silent and refuse to write, or when I sit at home alone and refuse to answer the phone. And of course, there are the obvious forms of control: perfection, performance, always planning, accomplishing, striving, organizing, cleaning, staying busy so that you won’t have to face your fear and shame. For a good, long while, this just might keep the depression at bay.

I tried every form of control my entire life. Sometimes both the passive and active at the same time. And then it caught up with me. The focus and energy it took to make life work the way that I wanted it to work {smooth and easy} finally exhausted me. And as the control fell away, pain, fear and shame began rising to the surface. I had worked all those years to keep it under water, like a giant, pressure-filled beach ball, and now here it was…too big to hide or shove back down. {And I was too tired and numb from the move to even try.} At first, I didn’t know what was harder…trying to control my life or dealing with the pain. Both are hard. But there’s only one path that leads to the life I really want.

Throughout this season of depression, I’ve begged God to lift it. I’ve fought bravely at times and have collapsed at times. I’ve fought for life and I’ve disappeared in the darkness. I’ve hunted for beauty and I’ve been consumed by the brokenness.

Yet through it all, deep down in my heart, I’ve believed that God is doing something good. {Sometimes my belief was small, but even mustard seed faith is enough!} He’s doing a new thing in me, and I’m finally perceiving it!

I’m finally able to say THANK YOU, LORD. Thank you for stripping me of control. Thank you for allowing fear and shame to surface. Thank you for doing what I couldn’t do for myself. Thank you for exposing what I couldn’t see in myself. Thank you for giving me the courage to walk through the pain instead of stuffing it down through performance, perfection and control. Thank you for allowing me to wear myself out and for catching me when I fell. Thank you for doing a new thing.

You know what’s really wild? I’ve always had the sense that God was bringing us to Franklin for something deeper than we could see…something only He could see we needed. All we really knew to say when we moved was that we longed for a simpler slower pace, but Franklin has become our healing place. A place of beauty, safety and support through new friendships, great counseling and healing prayer.

And I believe that all of this deep healing {which is still in process}, will lead to LIFE. The abundant life that we long for…the life that’s promised in John 10:10. {Hence the name of our farm: Ten 10 Farm.}

So back to the title of this post. How do we shine light on depression? We talk about it, write about it, call it what it is. We come out from under the shame of the label and have compassion for ourselves and others. We seek help from counselors, doctors, healing prayer ministers…or all three. And most of all, we don’t battle it alone.

There’s a lot I don’t know about depression, but here’s what I do know: there’s hope and life and light that was meant to shine in the darkness. YOU were meant to shine in the darkness. Remember, depression thrives in the darkness, and those who are under its weight need light to shine in from the outside. They don’t see it in themselves. Maybe you’re the light today. Or maybe you’re the one in the darkness. Either way, there’s something for you in this place. I promise. Ask God what it is. And if you can’t hear His answer today, keep asking. Depression loves to stay silent and secretive. That’s where it has the most power. So if you keep talking and crying your heart out to God and others, you’re fighting…even if it feels like you’re not winning right now. Ultimately, the light will pierce through the darkness and overtake it.

I don’t feel like this post is really done because there’s so much more to say, but my healing journey isn’t done. I’m not sure that healing is ever really “done” this side of heaven. But I’m going to leave my thoughts as they are…imperfect and incomplete.

If you’re feeling brave today, would you share a thought? You have no idea how life giving your words can be. And you never know who might read them and need them.

Blessings and peace to you, sweet friends.