"Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say 'My tooth is aching' than to say 'My heart is broken. '"
– C.S. Lewis
Last night I started crying, not knowing why, but I felt that it had something to do with what God wanted me to address today–depression. This morning I found it hard to get out of bed. My head felt fuzzy and my eyes heavy. With cement feet, I trudged to the bathroom. Feelings of dread swirled through my mind.
Like loneliness, once depression hits, there's nothing you can do but hold on to an invisible lifeline. Depression can be genetically passed down or a result of early childhood rejection, among many other reasons. In her blog post, Parental Rejection Effects and Coping Strategies, Pamela Li, a Stanford-trained parenting specialist, suggests that the negative emotions felt due to the lack of love in early childhood development contribute to the onset of depression.
My story with depression is a long one. It consumed me for decades, beginning around the time I turned twelve. Depression entwined itself into every moment of my existence. It woke up with me in the morning, circulated my mind with unrelenting negative thoughts throughout the day and then climbed into bed with me at night, refusing to let me sleep. Nightmares replaced daytime torment.
Many of my dark and forlorn poems written during my teen years could attest to the cruel feelings of self-loathing. I could find no pleasure in living. The sky I walked under turned black. My mother’s high-pitched angelic voice, singing praises to Jesus, woke me each morning. I envied her happiness, all the while wanting to throw darts at her head.
I wanted to scream at people who quoted Nehemiah 8:10 (NIV), “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” Had they not read Ecclesiastes? King Solomon, David’s son, the wisest man on earth, had insisted numerous times that life was meaningless. This is exactly how I viewed life. I looked for the meaning everywhere and found it nowhere.
With the conclusion of my meaningless life, I sought to end it. Suicidal thoughts were frequent. Everyone else appeared happy, but me. After begging my mom to send me to a psychiatrist, she did. The reserved, well-dressed man behind the large shiny wooden desk asked me questions in his monotone voice, before handing me multiple pages of an assessment to complete. I left knowing I would never return. This man didn’t have any answers!
Depression entwined itself into every moment of my existence.
Depression followed me into my twenties as I sought a career path. A part of me had always wanted to be a missionary. I saw myself holding and loving the orphanage babies, both of us finding comfort for the miserable cries of our hearts. Instead, I pursued a teaching career and found no comfort.
In my late twenties, during my second year of teaching, I became ill with pneumonia. After my lungs healed, the rest of my body did not. Instead, I suffered from daily chronic fatigue. Each morning I woke feeling somewhat better, but, within one-two hours the fatigue came crashing down, along with a host of other symptoms: a constant sore throat, muscle weakness, brain fog, joint pain, post-exertional malaise, and always, depression.
Often I lay on my bed and pleaded with God to heal me, praying for wisdom and guidance to get proper treatment or find answers. He was silent, or I was deaf, I wasn’t sure. Scared and alone, my relationship with God began a slow decay. The glass separating us grew thicker. After struggling through another year of teaching, I had to take time off and moved in with my parents, in an attempt to recuperate. It didn’t work. Instead, I learned to live with the illness and returned to teaching again.
During this time I had a daughter and entered the challenging world of single motherhood. Having and raising my daughter brought great contentment–it gave me a purpose that I lacked in life. Even though I still suffered from the effects of depression, I strove to ensure my daughter felt safe, secure, and loved. Feelings of worthlessness, self-loathing, a lack of excitement, and an overwhelming sense of sadness were the fibers of my being, though, hidden from all who knew me.
At the age of forty-nine, I woke one morning, crying and couldn’t stop. I cried while I phoned in sick from work. Still crying, I phoned my doctor. Hours later, through my tears, I answered my doctor’s questions with nods of my head, or gasping for air as I tried to explain that I hadn’t stopped crying all day. There was no reason for my tears, except the overwhelming despair of my being had finally erupted.
My doctor wanted to put me on an antidepressant. I declined. My mother had passed her fear of medicinal drugs onto me. Instead, I went to a counselor, saw different specialists, and attempted to nurture myself back to wellness. After all other options were exhausted, and I could not return to work, my doctor convinced me to try an antidepressant. Reluctantly, I agreed.
The first antidepressant I tried failed. Instead of making me feel better, I felt worse. Dopey and unwell, I lay on the couch for hours. I felt high, the same feeling I felt in high school after smoking illicit drugs. I could not function. Thoughts of despair consumed me. What if nothing worked, I wondered.
Thankfully, my doctor listened to me and suggested a different type of medication. Within a few days I was crying again, only this time they were tears of relief. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel depressed. In amazement, I wondered if this new feeling of positivity was how other people felt. It was so different from the one that had accompanied me throughout four decades of my life. Not only did the medication treat my depression, but it also treated my headaches, insomnia and chronic pain. Deep feelings of gratitude grew like a seedlet and then blossomed into tears and laughter.
God is the foundation of all joy. He is the only foundation.
Even now as I write this I am moved to tears, remembering the pain and grieving the time that is now lost. I had never read all of Ecclesiastes. When I finally did, I saw Solomon’s revelation: nothing in the world holds any meaning, not our work, riches, pleasure or accomplishments, except God, by knowing Him. God is the foundation of all joy. He is the only foundation.
The American Psychiatric Association describes depression as, ‘a common and serious medical illness that negatively affects how you feel, the way you think and how you act.’ Depression needs to be assessed by a doctor, as the cause of your depression may be medical. However, depression can also be a spiritual illness, or a combination of both, like mine.
A person’s spiritual state of being is not taken into account by the medical field. As Christians, we have the word of God to guide us in truth. Derek Prince, a Bible teacher and author revealed his own struggle with depression and how he overcame it, on one of his taped radio programs. He described his depression as a ‘tremendous battle’ that he struggled for years to overcome. It came over him like a ‘dark gray mist’ that would settle over his head and shoulders. Derek Prince would shut himself away from his wife and family and felt overcome with hopelessness.
When God showed Prince the part of scripture in Isaiah 61:3 that reads, ‘the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness,’ Prince knew he had his answer to overcoming his depression. He identified the spirit of heaviness as not just a mental attitude but as an invisible personal enemy and came to the realization that he could no longer be a pessimist. Prince learned to put on the helmet of hope and wear the garment of praise to fight against the battle of depression.
Many of us who have endured early childhood rejection may suffer from depression. Personally, I’m finally experiencing relief from the depression that oppressed most of my adulthood. However, temporary depression can hit when we least expect it to. Last Christmas, for three weeks, I suffered from overwhelming sadness that seemed to come out of nowhere. I couldn’t understand why I was suffering, but it lifted after the holidays. It’s during these times of feeling pulled back behind the glass that we need to proclaim the powerful word of God and praise Him.
I designed the prayer below to be spoken aloud, and it includes proclamations of freedom and hope. The word of God is a double-edged sword, a powerful weapon to be used against the oppression of the enemy. Please join me in saying it. I encourage you to write this one out and say it on a regular basis.
Let’s pray: Lord, thank you for my mind. You are the creator of my whole being. Please lead me to the right people for help. Equip me to overcome this battle. Shine your light into my darkness. Turn my wailing into dancing. Remove my sackcloth and clothe me with your joy so that I may sing to you with thanksgiving in my heart. Help me to praise you during the times I don’t feel like it. Thank you for the freedom that can only be found in you. Jesus, you died on the cross, not just for my salvation, but also for my healing. I claim full healing over my body, mind and soul right now, in your name, with the authority that you gave to us as your children.
Application: If you are in the midst of suffering, I encourage you to seek help, like I did. This can take the form of counseling, medicine, re-training your mind, prayer from others, prayer to God and continual fellowship with Him. I encourage you to share how you are feeling with someone you trust.
Journal prompt: Make a list of five things you are grateful for. Refer to this list the next time you are feeling depressed and thank God for them. Observe and journal any differences you notice.
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To read more about healing from early childhood rejection in this series, click on the links: Introduction, Distrust, Worthlessness, and Loneliness
Liz - I bow in deep respect to your life’s journey and the honesty with which you offer it. The way you speak to the interconnectedness of depression related to mind, body, and spirit resonates deeply with me.
That said, it’s taken me decades to begin to understand stories like yours beneath the surface of my own living, if that makes sense.
It sounds to me like you’ve earned a hard won wisdom when it comes to recognizing depression and learning how to meet it in relation to what stands a chance of helping you contend with it and offset it where you ar able. I know how difficult that kind of learning can be. Thank you for sharing part of what you’ve been through and what you’ve come to know.
Liz 🥹😮💨
Thank you for your vulnerability and the powerful truth you’ve shared. I deeply resonate with so much of what you wrote—the heaviness, the questions, the quiet cries for help.
Your story is a living testimony of God’s grace in the darkest places!!! The way you held on, even when it didn’t make sense, is incredibly brave.
You are living proof that healing is possible—and your voice is a lifeline for others still in the storm.
Keep shining His light. You’re not alone. God bless you sister 🤎