In the waiting

I'm waiting again. Waiting at the gate, watching passengers rush on to their destinations while I sit, going nowhere. Waiting for my flight to be called so I can ascend again into a cheery blue sky. I want to peer down at my current circumstance through a plexiglass window and barely be able to discern its edges. I want to move on.

But I'm waiting again. Not because I want to. Not because I think it's what it best for me. Rather, because I have no choice. Because, for some reason unfathomable to me, my perfect Father knows this is what I need right now.

I've spent nearly three months now back in the full swing of Major Depressive Disorder. Some days I wrestle with God over why. Sometimes I don't care about anything at all. Daily I hear His voice speaking love and comfort over me. Realistically, I don't want His comfort. I want His deliverance.

I spend time every morning reading His Word, even though I haven't truly wanted to most days this summer. He keeps pointing my stubborn heart back to Psalm 40. He keeps trying to show me how He is moving. Once in a while I let Him.

I waited patiently for the Lord;
He inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
and put their trust in the Lord.
Psalm 40:1-3

God wants me to wait - patiently. Merriam-Webster defines patient as "steadfast despite opposition, difficulty or adversity." I almost have to laugh reading that definition, as the very word steadfast is tattooed on my wrist. And it dawns on me. He is certainly steadfast in His love for me, no matter whether I ignore or admire, accuse or praise Him. He is patient with me. Maybe He is teaching my soul to be patient, too. Maybe He is asking me to trust Him as He molds me more into His likeness, makes my love steadfast like His.

I'm not writing this for self-promotion or even creative catharsis. I'm writing it because of Psalm 40:3. I don't ever want my suffering to be in vain. I want to keep asking God what He will show me about myself and about His character - and I want to share what I'm learning with others in the hopes that He will somehow be glorified through it.

So if you're waiting too, I'm genuinely sorry. I know how difficult it can be, how lonely and frustrating and seemingly endless. But friend, can I challenge you as I challenge myself? Don't waste your waiting. Ask Him what He wants to teach you, and let Him put a new song in your mouth. No matter what your circumstance, He is at work. And He is steadfastly pursuing your heart.

Steadfast

If you are hurting, if you are confused, if you feel rejected, please take a few minutes to read this. My hope is that you will take hold of the promises that can be yours in Jesus.

This isn't a pretty story. The past two years have spiraled and twisted along, thorny and desperate and often angry. I have wrestled with my faith, wondering with groans and tears why a loving Father would hear my cries for relief and choose not to give it. I have befriended the Psalmists in their pleas, I am intimately acquainted with their grief.

I say to God, my rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?” As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me continually, 'Where is your God?'" Psalm 42:9-10

For two years He did not deliver me. And yet He never left my side. In this, the most difficult season of my life to date, I felt the presence and comfort of my Savior in ways I only wish I could adequately describe. He has been more real to me, more true, more sufficient to hold up my weary arms than I could ever have imagined. To know my God this well, to trust Him with this level of confidence is worth whatever scars I now bear.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea. Psalm 46:1-2

We live in a world broken and corrupted by sin, where sickness and death are common realities. We have a beautiful and powerful promise that one day the world and everything in it will be fully restored, but that day hasn't come yet (Revelation 21). In the meantime, there is a God, the Creator, who already holds Victory in His hand. He loves His children fiercely. He sent His only Son to experience every earthly temptation and heartache so that He can perfectly empathize with us (Hebrews 4:15). He does not promise to remove us from the broken condition of the world, but He does promise to walk through the darkest valleys with us and to supply the power we need to endure (2 Corinthians 4).

This isn't a pretty story, but it IS a glorious one. For now, my psychiatrist and I have finally found a combination of drugs that work for me. I feel more like myself than I have since my girls were born. As I shake off the weight and test my wings, I can't help but be filled with great joy at the steadfastness of my God. He never left me. He never will.

This promise can be as true for you as it is for me. All you have to do is believe in Him and trust in what Jesus accomplished for you when he died on the cross and came up out of the grave. When you are adopted into His family, you have access to His abundant love, mercy, strength and power. If you seek Him, you will find Him, and this will be as true for you as it has been for me:

But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in Him.'" Lamentations 3:21-24

The Art of Hanging On

I am a shell. Or at least it feels that way. A shell of the woman I used to be, before Depression scooped me up, flipped me upside down and sent most of my self-identifying traits jangling out into a scattered pile on the floor. Most days I wonder where the spunky, driven, faith-filled girl I used to be has gone. Most days it is a struggle to remember what it feels like to be me. Most days I don't want to fight to find her.

And Yet. No matter how desperate or discouraged, despondent or defeated I feel I know there is a reality greater than my Depression. I love Jesus, I have been adopted into His family and my identity as a daughter of God Himself will never change. 

I have to preach that to myself, y'all. Every. Day. If I'm honest, that is incredibly difficult to do right now. I often choose to succumb to sadness and despondency instead of opening my Bible and clinging to my Father in prayer. I choose to believe the lie that Depression is what defines me now, that I will never get the "old me" back.

Can you relate? Is there a hurt in your life so deep and seemingly never-ending that you can't see how or where God can possibly be at work? If you are nodding your head, I am so sorry for your pain. It sucks. Here is what God has reminded me of today.

We have to fight.

As I read in the book of Joshua this morning, a particular verse jumped out at me. "Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go" (1:9). That promise was not just made to Joshua. God loved us enough to sacrifice His only Son, and Jesus left us the Holy Spirit as a helper. I have to fight through my circumstances to speak truth to myself and find hope in my Savior. The key is that I am not meant to fight alone. As a believer I have the help of the Holy Spirit to be strong where I am weak. "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still" (Exodus 14:14). All we need to do is admit our weakness and call on the Conquering King for help to believe when we cannot.

We need to be surrounded.

Sometimes even calling out to God for help seems too difficult. This is when I need believers around me who know me, know my struggles and can stand in the gap for me. I have chosen to be transparent about my Depression because I recognize that I need brothers and sisters in Christ to know my situation and pray for me when I cannot. I am incredibly grateful for my husband, parents and friends who are praying for me and encouraging me through this difficult season. It is often their reminders of Christ's unshakable love for me that spark a light in my darkness. I need those reminders of where my true, beautiful and unchangeable identity lies, and so do you.

This is how we hang on. "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). Know that the God of all creation loves you, is in constant pursuit of you, and gives you a Hope and a Future that rises above and beyond your current circumstances. I am choosing His reality today. Let's do it together.

The lion that roars

I recognize the fact that I only write blog entries a few choice times each year, and I tell myself I will make it a more interesting online destination one day when the kids are older. Who actually knows? But once or twice a year, though my naptime respite from the minions is short and altogether precious, I decide I need to use it to write. And so here we are again.

Depression, y'all. It is a prowling lion, tail wriggling in anticipation, ready to pounce at any moment. If you read my last entry, entitled My Scar, you know that last January I tied a nice little bow on the end of my Post Partum Depression and thought I was mostly in the clear. I could not have been more wrong. And although I could try to think of something more clever, more exciting or funnier to write about, this is what is in my face and on my heart daily right now. This roaring lion that just doesn't want to shut its mouth.

About a month after I penned my last post my depression kicked up in a major way. In the nine months that followed until today I have struggled to find a good combination of medication and dosages so that I can feel like myself again. So that I can muster up some amount of motivation to do more than the bare minimum to get through each day. So that I am not frequently overwhelmed or sad or despairing.

Don't get me wrong. This is NOT a "woe is me" post. I have it GOOD and I know it! I grew up in a loving home with parents who sometimes still make me a little uncomfortable with their public displays of affection. I married a man who loves Jesus first, me second and our children third - and all with ferocious devotion. He is gracious and kind and patient when I am selfish and irritable and complaining. I have three beautiful children who, for the most part, are healthy and happy, funny and smart. So what is my problem, right? I say this to highlight the fact that depression is not rational. Nor is it always circumstantial.

I will concede that keeping three human beings under the age of three years old is not easy breezy lemon squeezy. People comment regularly to me how they and their other friend so and so don't know how I do it. Guess what. I don't know either! But honestly, I have so much support from family (hi, Mom) and friends. I am aware and remind myself nearly daily that this is a difficult season but it will pass as my babies grow. In other words, I don't believe I am in a situation that one might think warrants a depressed state.

So my depression isn't rational and usually isn't circumstantial. Another myth I'll derail is that depression is a spiritual deficiency. Mine sure isn't! I love Jesus and often experience the joy, love and victory that being in relationship with Him brings. Drawing close to Him can temporarily relieve my symptoms, but no amount of prayer or "right living" has muzzled my lion. I believe that God purposefully allows me to deal with Leo.

What should I do with all of this? It's pretty frustrating stuff. I can't fix myself with rational thinking, circumstantial change or even prayer. But I know why. I'm not meant to fix myself. Though I can pray for the renewing of my mind and know that God will be faithful to answer that prayer, I still live in a broken world and a fleshly body that will war against Him until He returns victorious over everything.

After 14 years of dealing with depression and anxiety, I am beginning to realize that it is extremely possible my lion will never fully leave me. The apostle Paul called his "a thorn in the flesh." It was an unnamed malady God allowed Paul to wrestle continually and without permanent victory. This ailment forced him to choose whether he would rely on Christ's strength or manage on his own. In regularly choosing to lean on Jesus, Paul discovered that God's "power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9). It is when I acknowledge my inabilities that God can reveal His glory by giving me love, acceptance and power to overcome moment by moment.

Depression is real and hard and seemingly never completely gone. You can address it rationally (medication, professional counseling, etc), circumstantially (focus on the good in your life or remove yourself from negativity), and spiritually (pray, try to be a "good" person) and still not yank that lion by his tail and drag him away. But it's okay. There is still good news! Jesus is near to the broken-hearted. He delights in showing off His power and generosity in people's lives when we acknowledge our need for Him. I am learning this daily and want to share my heart with you. Whether you experience depression or know someone who does, look to Jesus. Try Him. Your lion's only a housecat to the King.

My Scar

Illustration: Erin McPhee

Source: www.todaysparent.com

Stigma. The Merriem Webster dictionary defines this word as "a set of negative and often unfair beliefs that a society or group of people have about something; a scar left by a hot iron; a mark of shame or discredit."

Postpartum Depression. It's one of these scars, one that many women endure silently because they are embarrassed, ashamed, frightened or confused. There is only one real purpose a scar can serve once it has formed and that's to tell a story. So in an effort to be purposeful, here is the story behind my scar.

I was prepared to experience PPD when I gave birth to my first child, Brooks. Depression runs in my family, and I have been on medication for anxiety and depression for 14 years now. Thanks to an amazing psychiatrist, really good medicine and years of figuring out what action steps work for me, I only sometimes experience the lows that depression can bring. I expected that to change with childbirth. Thankfully, I was wrong. For the first year of Brooks' life I definitely felt the full gamut of postpartum emotions that all mothers know - extreme exhaustion, fear of failure, intense love and protectiveness, triumph at small victories and tears shared with an inconsolable babe. But I could fairly easily bounce back from anything unpleasant. Most often I was happy and content to be a mom. I worked part time, cared for my son, stayed engaged in my marriage and continued leading worship at my church. I felt like myself.

Fast forward 20 months to the birth of my girls. I had come through the postpartum months with Brooks relatively unscathed. I knew, though, that gestating two babies quite literally meant I had twice the amount of additional estrogen coursing through my body. Again I prepared myself for the worst. And again I was wrong...at first. Keeping two newborns and a young toddler alive for those first two months was the most insanely difficult thing I've ever done. I was breastfeeding, pumping, supplementing, consoling one baby who cried day and night, and oh yeah, keeping my almost two year old entertained. But I was doing it (with a crazy amazing load of help from my incredible husband, mom, mother in law, etc). I was exhausted, slightly scared and often frustrated. But I felt like myself.

I reached 10 weeks postpartum and began to emerge from the newborn fog. I looked around at my day to day, in-the-trenches life and inwardly smiled. I've got this. I'm making it. Everything is going to be fine.

And then it began.
It crept up subtly at first.
I became easily annoyed.
Someone sitting beside me chewing a sandwich
A baby who supplied an encore poop when I'd just changed her diaper
Someone talking when I wanted silence
...All of these small things began to bother me.

Over the course of a few weeks, the emotions escalated. I was no longer annoyed several times each day. I had quickly progressed from annoyed to agitated to angry. I was ANGRY.

Initially I chalked it up to exhaustion. I was perpetually tired physically, emotionally and mentally. Of course I was irritable! Who wouldn't be?? I counted to ten and moved on.

After a while though, I realized that the anger I was feeling wasn't normal. I realized that I didn't feel like myself anymore. I was no longer simply feeling angry. Anger gripped me, roared up in me like a consuming flame. I wanted to spit, scream, cuss. I wanted to drive away from my house with no intention of returning. Then one afternoon, I mentally visualized squeezing one of my children until they stopped making noise. And that terrified me.

I knew something was wrong. My husband and my mom had both noticed this change in me and had gently asked me about it. I couldn't ignore their concern or my own. I wasn't tired. I was sick. I needed help.

I made an emergency visit to my trusted psychiatrist and explained what was happening. The diagnosis: Postpartum Depression. I couldn't believe it. PPD? But I wasn't sad or suicidal. I wasn't crying all of the time or craving sleep (more than the mom of a newborn should). I was just mad! However, my doctor was correct. He adjusted my medication and we discussed practical coping strategies. I went home and got better. Within a few weeks my emotions were coming under control and I felt like Tori again.

Today, my girls are giggly six month olds and my son is a well-adjusted big brother. My husband and I keep the love alive in between diaper changes, bottles, tickle fights and naps. I am healthy and whole. Life is one challenge after another, but I can honestly say that I am often happy and nearly always content, even if I am also frustrated or exhausted or annoyed.

So why am I yanking this skeleton out of my closet and putting it on display? I've decided to share my postpartum journey because someone needs to read this. Some woman out there is struggling through the postpartum months and doesn't feel like herself. She is too sad, too angry, too something. And she needs help.

Postpartum depression doesn't look the same for everyone. And it doesn't always hit in the first few weeks or even months after a baby is born. It can creep up slowly and then intensify rapidly. PPD doesn't mean you are inadequate or broken. But it does mean you are vulnerable. And it's okay, no, necessary, to get help. Please do. You will look back on this brief but dark time and be incredibly glad you did.

Here are a few resources to help you get started:

Postpartum Support International,  1-800-944-4773
Postpartum Progress
Mental Health America,  1-800-273-TALK