Depression is not a one size fits all. There are so many variations of it. Mild Depression, Clinical Depression, Circumstantial Depression, Post Partum Depression. There are hundreds of thousands of books written on it. There are numerous medications to treat it. There are varying opinions on it. I can only speak on my experience with depression. I can only display my garment of misery, and it may not look or feel like yours. I am not offering up medical advice, or a miracle cure...just my story.
I used to think you could simply power on into life, leaving your hardships behind. Almost like a snake sheds its skin, I too could molt my past and slither on into a new beginning. Life unfortunately doesn't work that way. I don't think the snake analogy is all that wrong though. After all isn't the purpose of a snake sloughing it's skin to allow growth? A shed is only a layer of the snakes skin, and the underlying skin is much healthier and vibrant once the shed is complete. It's a process, it takes time and it's generally uncomfortable while it's happening but when it's complete it's entirely beneficial. Maybe that is the trick to dealing with our pasts. Instead of trying to ditch our unpleasantries on the desert floor, we should be intentionally exuviating. Even in the wild there are problematic sheds. Snakes who can't properly shed accumulate the dead skin and eventually it blinds them. A blind snake is a dead snake. I would definitely liken myself to the troubled serpent...a collection of 'skins' have threatened my condition.
I recently had a conversation with a young person about identity. They are grappling with their faith, and floundering for the meaning of their existence. A pretty normal crisis in that fragile season between childhood and maturity. In talking to her though I dipped back into a time in my life that I rarely visit. After all, the best examples we can give to empathize with what someone is going through, is our own experiences. I wasn't really ready for the pain that came with peeling back those layers. Over the years you can live in a pretty incredible place of denial. You can not only convince others, but you can convince yourself you have healed from wounds incurred long ago...when in reality it has begun to decay. You've just been clever in masking the gangrenous evidence for far to long.
One of the tidbits of wisdom I bestowed upon this moldable mind is that you have to realize your identity in your Creator, a solid foundation. Because if you look to the world, or people in your life, you will forever be lost. I know in my last blog I touched on the idea that I have spent the greater portion of my life wandering lost because I wasn't rooted in my faith. This is just an expansion on that thought really. I was so insecure in who I was, I allowed others to make decisions in my life. Decisions that weren't there's to make. And even when I would try and be bold, my lack of confidence in myself, and in who I was in Christ, made those around me believe that I was incapable. Most of the people I allowed to direct me were well-meaning. Even at thirty-seven years young I can say that I still struggle with not only making decisions for myself, but not allowing others to revoke my decisions.
Indecisiveness for me, was really self-doubt. A symptom of not understanding who I was in God's eyes. Allowing the world to decide for me. Through God's perfect lens I was "fearfully and wonderfully made in his image", a genuine individual who had a purpose, personality, and capabilities. Loved unconditionally. Through the world's clouded lens I was imperfect, flawed, not skinny enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough, or unique. I was broken. Unwanted. Even when I saw myself through the lens of those who loved me, like my parents, siblings or friends...it was still muddled.
When I was first married, at the tender age of eighteen I allowed my husband to decide who I was. I arrived to college pretty sure of myself. I came from a loving home, not perfect by any means, but my identity although misplaced was moored in love. My spouse had his own distorted identity, he too carried layers of hurt and bitterness. Who he saw through his foggy lens in me, is who I accepted I was. And I didn't realize till recently I might still see myself in that way. Even worse, maybe I believed the lies for so long that they became truth. And even though he no longer has the power to speak into my life, I have held onto that layer of dead epidermis and carried it with me refusing to shed it off...refusing to let it go. Talk about self sabotage.
For a long time I really struggled with why I couldn't just accept what Sully see's in me. Why was it so easy to mirror the negative identity that my ex anchored me with, and so utterly hard to accept the rose colored lens that Sully offered me. Because lets be honest, my amazing husband see's me far better than I truly am. Over this past couple years I too have grappled with my faith, and floundered for the meaning of my existence in the wake of losing my mother. As I wrote before in my last blog entry it has been a very painful experience, but one that has produced a tremendous amount of growth. And I had made some impressive headway into the whole "Who Am I?" investigation. Unfortunately in trying to help this precious child not make the same mistakes I did...I realized I hadn't quite fully dealt with my demons. Once again I had to put into practice what I was preaching.
For years I have struggled on and off with depression. I pause to even use the word depression, maybe a better term would be an identity crisis. Because I have allowed it to plague me for so long, and because I sought out my solutions in all the wrong places I have ended up in a very precarious place. Thankfully I have discernment to know that although I am currently laboring against certain bad habits that have amassed. They do not define who I am.
Knowledge is two parts. First it is admission. Second it is action. I have mastered the first part, unfortunately my follow through on the action is lacking. But this sweet girl who entrusted me with her voyage into self discovery has inspired me. I no longer want dysecdysis (abnormal or difficult shedding) to weigh me down. I want to grow, to shine, to accept the freedom that is only found in Christ. And it is really only in Him we can find our true identity. He can "heal our broken hearts and bandage our wounds" (Psalms 147:2) To effectively shed our past, we have to entrust Him with our future. For me depression wasn't something a pill could treat. Or something I could will away. Depression was the thread that unraveled an elaborate cover up I had intricately tried to weave over my life to hide just how utterly lost and broken I truly was.
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