Let's Get this Out in the Open

Have you noticed the difference between the flu, pneumonia, cancer and clinical depression?

On Facebook, emails, prayer lists, people are quick to share that "little Johnny has the flu" or ask for prayers for their grandmother with cancer.  We seem to be comfortable sharing and discussing the bout with pneumonia that our great aunt is having.  Depression?  Shhhhh.   Let's just move on.

It seems odd to me that in today's culture where we are more accepting of special needs and challenges, there is still a stigma attached to mental illness.  I truly believe that people's feelings and reactions are attached to the fact that they don't understand mental illness and what we don't understand, we tend to avoid.   As a senior at UNT, I did my research on "Society's Knowledge of Mental Illness."  Almost 20 years later, not much has changed.  There is still a bit of a stigma to anything having to do with the mind.

In honor of my friend, Dr. Paul Bonneau, who took his own life 6 days ago, I want to openly share my own story of my experience with clinical depression.  I am only speculating that that could have added to his reasoning, as I don't have any personal knowledge, but it gives me something to which I can point and explain the unexplainable.

I hope that by writing this, taking a deep breath and clicking the "publish" button on my blog, I will possibly empower someone out there to get help that maybe otherwise might not have.

After graduation from college, the real world confronted me like a linebacker taking out a 3rd string quarterback.  All of a sudden, I was job hunting, lonely, realizing that I had a bachelor's degree in a field that needed a masters and had another career love on top of that.  Things changed a little for the better when I got "A" job (although not "THE" job I wanted) and I met a great guy.  Problem was, the job I had was going nowhere and not in my field of interest and the guy I met still had a year and a half at a college 3 hours away.  My nights were spent alone with I Love Lucy reruns and lots of ice cream and dreams of another life.

I began to realize that the problem was bigger than myself when I started having the digestive problems, lack of energy and sleep issues.  I would bounce between not having an appetite at all to...well, shall we say - digestive problems that required a close restroom.  I had headaches and felt tired ALL THE TIME even though I wasn't doing as much as I had before.  I was still teaching a couple dance classes on the side and found some solace in that, but would come home to the same physically ill feelings I always had.  

I would sit in my car on my lunchbreak and cry.  I would talk to my boyfriend, who would later be my precious husband, and still not find any happiness in life.  Yes, I thought about suicide, but never really  considered it.  I would simply think about how much it would hurt my family and deep down, I STILL saw life as a gift from God even though I wasn't enjoying most of it.  

Two things changed my life.  And they BOTH came from my precious Lord and Savior.

One was Dr. Edward Tuthill who diagnosed my illness.  The other was my precious Dave who led me to Christ.

I came to the point where I had to admit to myself that I needed some help.  I felt physically ill and had no energy ALL the time and yet had nothing wrong that I could pinpoint.  I finally decided to seek help from a psychiatrist.  I knew enough from my psychology minor at UNT to guess what he would tell me - that I was clinically depressed.

I saw Dr. Tuthill often and he prescribed the drug Prozac.  For those who don't know, clinical depression is a true chemical imbalance - low levels of serotonin and norepinephrine.   It is real and affects 3-5% of the population at any one time, according to a Dartmouth University study.  Without getting into the specifics of how the drug works (and showing off my lack of chemical knowledge in the process), we'll just leave it as - it balances out the chemicals in the brain.  And it did.

It made a difference in my body and mind. I began to have a regular appetite and my digestion was way less traumatic, too.  I began to feel my normal level of energy and was able to sleep more regularly.  Now, don't get me wrong - I still felt down at times, but that's the difference.  I went from laying in bed crying for no reason to "feeling a bit down".... a big improvement.

Then, God could do EVEN MORE work in my life.

You see, I believe God heals.  He heals!  He heals in many ways.  I do believe in miraculous healings - they are all throughout the bible and we hear often how doctors "cannot explain" someone's miraculous improvement.  I also believe God heals in other ways.  He has given doctors, nurses - all kinds of medical personnel a knowledge and ability to help their fellow human beings.  He has guided researchers to answers and creations of treatments.  Even sometimes, as hard as it is for us to grasp, death is a way of healing.  God IS in control - I just don't box Him in to the "how" part.  That's His business.

After God led me to seek help for my medical condition, He then went to work on my heart.  Now, this blog is already getting long, so I will just summarize:  He sent an INCREDIBLE man into my life who had a faith and strength of character of none I had known.  My husband brought me back to the church I had begun to avoid, yet had known all my childhood years.  He told me about HIS Jesus and all He had done in his own life.  He took me to bible studies, church events and worship services.  A year later, I chose to rededicate myself to Christ through a believer's baptism.

I was on the medication for about two years - and terrified to take a chance at stopping.  Eventually, I felt I was at a point in my life where I could give it a try and had learned enough along the way to know if I was wrong and would need to go back to the treatment.  Note:  The doctor explained that for many, the duration of treatment is the length of time you have experienced symptoms.

After the treatment, the balance was much better and I have not had problems with clinical depression since those years in my twenties, but I will never forget those experiences, feelings and physical symptoms that were so strong.  I have found a joy in the Lord that gets me through the sadness and "down times", but understand the difference in that and a chemical imbalance that produces an irrational despair that is uncontrollable. 

Our bodies are different.  Look around!  We look different on the outside, why can't we all accept that our brains are different, too?  If the insulin in our body can be different for some people, why can't we understand that the serotonin can be, too, and yet people are more comfortable admitting they've been diagnosed with diabetes, but not with clinical depression.  I think the difference still lies in some people's beliefs that we can CONTROL it.  We cannot.  

We cannot control the chemicals in our brain any more than we can control the flow of our own blood.

I can only offer my story for others to relate and learn.  I believe VERY MUCH in God's ability to take a tragedy, sadness, any negativity and create something positive and good from it.  If God can create the heavens and the earth from nothingness, surely He can take my story and my friend Paul's tragedy and use them to help someone else.

I can be totally honest and say that I wish I had been led to write this story a week ago.  It's normal for people, in light of a tragedy, to question the "should'ves" and the "what ifs."  I just pray that if I can find the courage to actually click the "publish" button above.....maybe my story will help another one of God's children.

Talk about it.

Share about your kiddo with the flu.  Post about your grandmother with pneumonia. Talk about your clincal depression.  Let your friends and family love you through ANY illness.  

Give them that chance.

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Amendment as of Spring 2017:  

I feel it necessary to update this blog, to better understand the continual battle that is depression. In recent years, it became clear to me that the challenge was back.  In thinking of my friend, Paul, I knew I could not ignore what I was feeling.   While the symptoms now are much milder than before, and medication is a great aid, it is a struggle and I accept the fact that it may always be a struggle.  

Anyone in this boat - reach out.  Ask for help.  Make a call.

Psalm 30:2  Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.

Psalm 107:20  He sent out his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.

NIV

Resource used:  Dartmouth.edu