Train Wrecks or Pure Hearts?

What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful...

 

 

 

 

As much as I hate to admit it, I am emotional. I experience emotions on a much larger scale that is difficult for even me to grasp at times.

 

 

 

Do you remember when Kristen Bell was on Ellen, discussing her dream come true of partying with a sloth? She said, "If I'm not between a three and a seven on the emotional scale, I'm crying."

This is so unbelievably true for me. While I'm not in the fetal position in hysterics, I'm fighting it. Hard. I want to cry all the time. Not for any reason in particular, either. Let me tell you - it's exhausting.

 

Whether it's nostalgia, loneliness, joy, excitement, or a moment of overwhelming peace, it's guaranteed there is a knot in my throat.

 

I love it just as much as I hate it. Like I said, it's exhausting. I don't just get annoyed, I get irritated. I skip over the whole jealousy thing and go straight to the green-eyed monster. When I'm hurt, there is nothing anyone can say or do to make it better. (Except Frankie, but.. I mean, come on!) When I'm angry, well, let's just say the Hulk's got nothing on me. But I fight the intensity of these feelings. That's why it is exhausting. I'm really good at fighting my feelings. "Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them knoooww." That would be the downside of being a pastor's kid. I know I rag on being a pastor's kid, but I just don't think people understand that things are a lot more 7th Heaven's later scandalous years than the early wholesome episodes of the mid-nineties. Nevertheless, we prevailed - stronger and wiser. Unfortunately, some habits don't die. The picture-perfect oldest daughter of a senior pastor that congregations all over the eastern United States can't seem to shake the notion that I am allowed to have feelings, and it's okay to show them sometimes.

 

Back in April, I accepted an offer to be a youth leader at my church. I was reluctant, mostly because I have always been intimidated by teenagers. Even when I was one, I hung out with adults. (Oldest child syndrome, I think.) Anyway, I said yes, and this has been the best decision I've made in a long time. I love every single person that walks into the room. I don't fully understand it, but I'm committing myself 100% to this group of students. It's been hard - I won't lie. I've gone to several people for advice, and while some of them were helpful, most of them gave me this solid advice: "Relax. Stop worrying about it. Don't over-think it. Just keep doing what you're doing." Am I scared I'm screwing this up every single day? Yes. Am I worried one of these kids is going to take my advice the wrong way? More than you know. Do I think someone else is better suited for this position? Absolutely. But someone saw something in me, and I have to have faith in that. I have to see what they see, and trust it. I realized this past week that out of everything that is going on in my life right now, being a youth leader is the one thing I don't screw up on a daily basis. At least, to the best of my knowledge. 

 

Today I participated in the Ice Bucket Challenge. I wasn't going to, despite being nominated twice. I donated money, but I really didn't think my pouring water on my head was going to make a difference in the world of ALS awareness. One of my co-worker's husbands died a couple of years ago after battling ALS for years. I knew this, and felt the need to donate. When our CEO challenged the entire company, I groaned. Out loud. (I was at home when I got the memo, so I didn't actually make a fool out of myself.) A few of us were discussing it at work, and it was mentioned that "if you don't participate, you're an *expletive* and not a team player..." blah, blah, blah. And that made me mad. So mad, that I was going to take a personal day and not have to deal with it. Last night, I had a dream about my co-worker. I woke up, packed some extra clothes, and went to work fully prepared to take this Ice Bucket Challenge. Not for the company. Not for the sake of following through with a nomination. For my co-worker. My work mom. My "not putting up with office bull crap" partner-in-crime. So I stood beside her today as I dumped a bucket of (mostly) ice on my head for ALS awareness. The joy that exuded from this woman was so contagious. It made me proud to be soaking wet for no other reason but to say "Yes, I donated to make a difference." It may seem stupid to you, but to my co-worker (white "Walk to Defeat ALS" shirt), this was one of the best days of her life. She could not stop thanking this team. It seemed so insignificant, but to her, it meant so, so much.

 

 

 

 

My point:
When I allow my feelings, whatever they may be, to be focused on others in a positive way, it's not so tiring. It's... exhilarating. And even when I focus on myself, it's exhilerating. To feel things with your whole heart and not hold back - why haven't I been doing this?! Feel every emotion. Embrace every feeling, whether it be negative or positive.

**Do you see how unorganized this post is? This is my brain. All the time. I am constantly sorting through thoughts and stories and ideas to get to what I want to say. I don't always succeed. So when I babble, hang on a minute - I'll eventually say what I need to say. :)

 

And now I leave you with this bubble-gum pop song from a Disney Channel movie of the early 2000's era. You're welcome.

 

 





Silent Battles

In light of recent events, today I'm going off script and writing about something that I've been moderately open with over the years.

Depression.

Depression effects more than 17.5 million people in the United States. It's estimated that 60% of those suffering with depression do not seek professional help. Depression effects people of all ages, races, and social classes. You are not an exception.

I have suffered with depression for most of the last ten years. As a 14-year old with social issues and a temper, I was repeatedly told "It's a phase. You'll grow out of it." and "It's just teen angst. Be patient." It wasn't until I graduated high school, that I was able to find a doctor who not only believed me when I told him what I was feeling, but gave me steps to help treat it. I was put on anti-depressants for five years. I have been in counseling. I spent years (years!) letting people tell me that I could be freed from this spirit of depression. Have you ever had people plan a night of intercessory prayer and you just sit there like, "Uh... guys... this isn't working..."? That happened on more than one occasion, actually.

Depression is not something that can be fixed. It can be treated. It can be managed. If there is one thing I've learned from suffering with depression, and watching loved ones suffer as well, you are never really free. It can take a single moment to snap you back into the void. Sometimes, it's gradual, and before you realize it, you're lost.

I don't want to limit what God can do in healing people at all. I'm not saying He can't. I'm not saying He doesn't. He can free you, absolutely, but just like anything else, it's not forever. You can be healed from cancer, but it can also return years later. It's the same thing. God has the power to heal you, but that doesn't make it permanent. Sometimes, you have to accept that this is your cross to bear, and take steps to manage it according to the opinion of a professional, whether it be pastoral, medical, or psychological.

Like I mentioned, I wasn't taken seriously in my battle with depression until after I graduated high school. I was taking medication to help level my mood swings, etc. The thing about anti-depressants is you have to take them all the time. You can't just take it if you're having a bad day. You have to have that medicine continually in your system in order for it to work. I hate taking medication, so this didn't appeal to me. However, I did it (most days), and it worked. I still had my blue days, but they were fewer and fewer. I was doing so well that I stopped my medication. Life was good. I was happy. I let people into my life that I believed were positive influences, and in some ways they were. They pushed me to be better and try new things. It became an addiction. An unattainable addiction. And one day, I lost my mind. Literally. I don't remember weeks at a time from last year. I weighed a scary 110 pounds at my breaking point. I lost my job, I lost my apartment, I lost my friends... I became so focused on reaching this level (of someone else's idea) of perfection that it caused me to have a mental breakdown. I've come to realize that all I needed was to be loved, but the people who I looked to for that love left at the first sign of trouble. My family saved my life. It was a very difficult thing to go through. Even now, its hard to accept that I can't remember most of last spring.

How did I overcome it? Well, I'm not taking any medication. Not this time. That's a personal choice, though. I felt like the side effects of the medicine weren't worth it. I got involved in my church. It was "like falling asleep. Slowly, then all at once." I started going to a small group every other week. Then I started working in the pre-school class once a month. Now I'm a youth leader. All of this, along with regular services and youth events - total emersion in the Lord's work. "Pouring into the lives of the people around you allows room for them to pour into yours." I thought it clichéd until this past year. I was able to get a good job, and though there have been a few hiccups in the process, it's been a great growing experience. I've been blessed with people that haven't let me say no to opportunities - but it's been out of love. They see something in me that I don't. They see the person I am and the gifts I have and have loved me enough to show me how to use them to help others.

I'm not going to lie, I struggle. Daily. I still have days where I "blackout"... I don't remember what I did that day, what I said to people. It's scary to think I'm doing so well, but am still experiencing these set-backs. The key to overcoming depression is to take it one day at a time. But the most important thing to do is to talk to someone. You are not alone. There are people who are going through exactly what you're going through who can help you.

Today, we remember those who have lost their battle with depression. The warm smiles that hid so much pain. The laughter that was so infectious, yet so foreign. The hugs that were always "too tight and too long" that you now wish were longer. To the ones we know and the ones we don't, I don't think apologies could make a difference, but know that our eyes and hearts are more open to those around us. We're all fighting battles.