Earlier today a good friend shared a post on social media urging the church to talk about depression. I’m the church. So I’m going to stop being part of the problem and talk about it.
I knew the day to talk about this was coming and I’ve intentionally put it off. It’s actually why I’ve avoided sharing my writing. I’ve written for years and kept it all safely stored away on Google Drive. Because I knew from the very beginning that God gave me my story and the gift of stringing words together so that I would verbalize things no one wants to talk about.
Things like this little blue pill and the harrowing path that brought us together.
The crushed spirit.
The dry bones.
The aching sadness that’s hovered just under my happy and positive disposition for as long as I can remember.
This is the first of many conversations I’ll share with you on the topic of mental health: the good, the bad, the ugly. And most importantly God’s sovereign love in spite of it all.
Don’t be sad for me. I’m not going out of my way to draw attention to myself or be melancholy- I’m on a mission. I have a supportive community full of love. I have insurance that not only makes this tiny blue pill affordable, but also makes it possible for me to meet with a therapist as often as needed without paying anything out of pocket. I’ve pursued healing and found freedom.
Sadly, so incredibly, heartbreakingly, gut wrenchingly sadly, I’m the minority.
If you’re sad let your empathy spur you to action for the majority that are still suffering alone in silence. Your friends and family who don’t have access to support, medical care, counseling, or insurance. The ones who are crushed, dry, and hopeless.
Let your empathy lead you to talk about things no one wants to talk about. Be a friend- a brother or sister- ask the hard questions to the people you love. Prepare yourself to hear things you don’t want to hear so that you can help carry the pain of someone who’s entirely spent from carrying it alone. Bring genuine cheerfulness and love to the crushed and dry.