“What if I stumble; what if I fall?
What if I lose my step & I make fools of us all?
Will the love continue if the walk becomes a crawl?
What if I stumble…and what if I fall?”
–DCTalk, “What if I Stumble,” 1997-ish
I grew up in a home that banned “secular” music. I still remember when my mom threw out my “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” cassette tape (I cried). I mean, c’mon—I cut my teeth on The Gatlin Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, Madonna (True Blue was THE BUSINESS, for real), Cyndi Lauper, you name it. But when my mom married my stepdad, it came with a recommitment to the Lord & our household got purged. My sister kept her “stash” hidden—Guns & Roses were intertwined with Stryper when she’d play drums, & she made sure I had exposure to Lynyrd Skynyrd, Def Leppard, Styx, and a plethora of rock artists. It was somewhere around this time that little country-girl Cassidy realized that I. LOVE. RAP. MUSIC. I found artists like DC Talk, ETW, Michael Peace, T-Bone, Gritz, Stephen Wiley—my mom had a FIT, but I found my people. I’d dance & try to rap (I still do, DJC2 in the hizz-owse, yeah, boyeeee!); I loved it. I tried to keep up with the lyrics & as a wannabe-writer, marveled at how these artists could turn a phrase.
DC Talk is unequivocally my favorite Christian band (& probably my favorite band of all time. I’m not embarrassed to say that). Kevin Maxwell Smith was my teenage crush (“Jen, pause the video right THERE—his eyes!!!! Sigh!!!!!”; Michael Tait was who I learned to sing gospel riffs from; and Toby McKeehan was the coolest guy I’d never met.
I’ve never had the opportunity to see DC Talk in concert…and it looks like I never will (although I’ve seen TobyMac)…when Michael Tait was announced to be the leader of another group I loved, the Newsboys, I was stoked. Kevin took on Audio Adrenaline, Toby was solo and being amazing—I grew up with these guys in my ears, and it was awesome to see them move forward with their faith in such focus.
When John James left the Newsboys, there were allegations of inappropriate behaviors. I still loved their music, & I still listen to Take Me to Your Leader, Shine, & all of their albums (“Breakfast” is a favorite song. It’s totally frickin’ creative!). I’ve seen them in concert a few times (I actually got to sing, “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes with Duncan Phillips back in the day while I was helping them set up their stage—the perks of going to a “mega” church!) & their high-energy shows were phenomenal. The members picked up the reins, the shows went on, & their ability to perform & reach out to millions continued…
But I think, as The Doors’ said, “this is the end, my only friend.”
Allegations regarding inappropriate sexual behaviors and drug use have come out from The Roys Report (which is generally pretty reputable) concerning Michael Tait. Although he’s most definitely not the first lead singer of a Christian band that’s had allegations made against them (and we as a society are taught that someone is “innocent until proven guilty”) at some point, those accusations have teeth. Michael published a confession of his truth (I’m sure it’s not complete but it’s more than I’ve seen 99% of others who have “fallen from grace”) & has admitted to inappropriate behaviors.
I feel like the confession is just the tip of the iceberg, not only for Tait’s behaviors, but for the Christian music industry as a whole.
I’ve now sat through 2 congregations in my 47 years that have fallen apart due to the sexual inappropriateness of their leaders, and 2 major global ministries that have fallen apart from it (& that’s just the ones that directly affected me). The foothold that the enemy has regarding sexual misconduct in ministries is massive, & the Church is about to, as the kids say, “F.A.F.O.” (I shouldn’t use that acronym but it’s happening. People are fooling around and getting found out. If you are doing this, you. Will. Be. Found. Out. Period. The days of getting away with sexual abuse and power plays in the Church are OVER).
I have so many issues and complications with the Michael Tait case…part of me feels like if he could just be authentic with who he is and what he is struggling with, and if the Church could provide him with a truly safe place to love Jesus from where he is or who he is, then the abuse of power would have never taken place. If he’s gay (he admits to “touching men in an unwanted sensual way”), if he’s straight, if he’s struggling with purity, LOVE HIM and give him a place to heal in authenticity. The Holy Spirit brings loving conviction, not condemnation, and that’s Who we go to in our broken struggles…but the Church has forgotten that they’re supposed to be the hospital for the broken. We only want to look at what’s shiny & pretty on Sunday mornings…we don’t want to see each other in our darkest places, in our struggles and wounds…
If the Church treated people like they were a place where we could all fall further in love with a God Who is continually making us in His image, we would have the corner on the identity crisis in the world.
Controversial Statement #1: SEXUALITY IS NOT IDENTITY.
This may seem like a pivot off-topic, but I think it’s a foundational argument that if the Church would have been a safe place for Michael Tait to express the sexual struggles he was having, I don’t think these abuses of power would have ever happened. The Church’s persecution of the LGBTQIA+ community is misguided at best, and criminal at worst. Bobby Berk from Queer Eye comes to mind as an example I’ve heard 100x over: The church kicked me out. WHAT?!?
We are created in the image of a God Whose Word says we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” My identity isn’t in who I am attracted to or in my gender. These things are a part of my physical identity, but they are not my identity in whole. My identity is in who Jesus is making me to be, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, & physically (Matthew 6). Hayley Williams from Paramore said in response to this story that “Being gay is not the problem.” I agree with her. Sexual “identity” issues are not the problem, but finding the root of what’s going on? That’s the problem. The abuse of power? That’s the problem. The secrets, the coercion? That’s the problem. Non-consensual activities? That’s the problem. The sexual issues & substance abuses are the consequences of a whole lot of hidden issues & secrets that Tait himself admits to…when you’re carrying the weight of all of that? Alone? Couple that with actual conviction (he knew he was on a downward spiral but at some point, he was trapped)…You’re going to crumble.
I realize this opens the door for a LOT of discussions, but I think the bottom line is that the Church Jesus talks about isn’t some gilded temple of perfection. We’re a house of broken people who want to love Jesus more & who find healing, grace, and restoration in Him and only through Him. If someone can’t be open about the sexual or identity issues they’re working through in the Church of all places, then what are we doing?!? WHAT ARE WE DOING?! Jesus says to “come to Me, all you who are weary & burdened, & I will give you rest”—Matthew 11:28-30. His House should be a place where we lay our burdens & our struggles at His feet…anything less is unacceptable. We should never feel “trapped” in our sins as we walk with God, because He promises us rest in Him and FREEDOM when we give those things over to Him. If we can’t bring our burdens to God’s people & find them to be an extension of His hands & feet? We’re not doing our jobs, Church.
CONTROVERSIAL STATEMENT #2: Sexual identity struggles are not any greater or lesser than any other “issue” anyone else is struggling with. Loving people to Jesus and providing them with a house of healing by meeting them where they are, puts us all on a level playing field and prevents an inequity of position that we were never supposed to have in the first place. This does NOT mean we condone practicing immorality as defined by Scripture (I say that because I 100% do not condone predatory, abusive or non-consensual behaviors—there is no place for such in the Church). I want to say the Church should be a safe place for someone to express that they are struggling with temptation, questions, or sexual identity issues. The struggle isn’t a sin. Acting on it and the intention behind those actions are where you have to make a judgment call with the Holy Spirit. This is a call for transparency in the Church, and a call for us to be a safe place to discuss our real journey. It means we have the courage to correct, counsel, and hold accountable those who are struggling (rather than ignoring it or blacklisting people). We offer resources & an oasis of Hope. If people continue to make choices that are antithetical to the Word as a Code of Conduct, then we move forward with scriptural discipline…but we don’t banish people. We don’t kick them out or stop loving them. In fact, scriptural discipline is a loving part of the process, even though it’s painful. I think Michael Tait is going through some of that right now based on what he wrote, if he was being authentic. We give grace to people as they work out their salvation. Plainly put, we welcome hurting & broken people into our home, our churches, and our lives, because our Jesus is the only Healer & Judge for all of us.
We have all sinned and fallen short—we all need a Savior. We can sit and argue about identity issues until the cows come home, but it doesn’t change the fact that We. Need. Jesus. Why couldn’t Michael Tait come to someone & share that he was struggling? Where were the leaders in his life, the accountability partners? This man and his victims have been failed by every single person who heard a whisper about his actions…by his record label, by his so-called friends, by his bandmates, and by his church. For Cory Asbury to comment that this abuse wasn’t a secret in the CCM (contemporary Christian music) scene is beyond appalling to me—if y’all knew and said nothing, YOU ARE COMPLICIT. You’re just as guilty as the person who committed the acts of abuse.
Controversial Statement #3: WHERE ARE THE ACCOUNTABILITY PARTNERS IN CHRISTIAN MUSIC?!? In fact, where are the accountability partners, period?!?!? We need community, leadership, and accountability. We have to get past this whole, “go to church on Sunday, that’s my duty, move on” line of crap so many of us have grown up with. If who you are isn’t who you are at church, then you’re at the wrong church, because that’s the ONE PLACE you should be able to be nothing less than 100% authentic.
I truly believe the issues Michael Tait has admitted to and been accused of, could have been avoided with proper accountability and godly counsel. They could have been avoided with embracing him in love and in giving him a place to be transparent. People were more interested in making money off of the man pretending to be a godly leader than in investing in him, providing him with accountability, and removing him from his position when the fires got too hot. WE FAILED MICHAEL TAIT and a thousand other ministries/ministers of the Gospel because we are cowards as a church. That doesn’t exonerate them. They’re still responsible for their actions before God…but if we’re One Body, aren’t we also responsible for looking away?
I’d like to say that I don’t see how this could have happened, but I’ve seen it over-&-over again. I’ve done it myself—singing on a stage about how great the love of God is, while struggling with suicidal tendencies, sexual immorality, & harboring intense feelings of anger and even hatred without honesty with leadership or counsel. Granted, I was on a much smaller stage, but the principle is the same: I faked it. I played the game. It doesn’t mean my heart wasn’t truly worshipping God or that I didn’t care about the people I was reaching out to; it means that my heart was broken. I didn’t have any resources in place for how to process my own trauma, & I acted out in secret. I don’t think I learned to live a life of actual authenticity until after I lost my daughter & found myself too broken to fake my way through it anymore (& in the arms of a Church that supported me in love).
I believe there is healing for people who struggle with secret sins, but I believe the first step in that process involves a commitment to authenticity & transparency. When you’re on that big of a platform? I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. Michael Tait has lost everything, & the investigation has just begun…others who have walked this path have done the same, & this world doesn’t allow for an easy “comeback.”
Then again, God never called us to “Easy.”
It’s uncomfortable to walk this road….to feel so exposed by being so open to a trusted network of people. It’s uncomfortable to share the broken, rotted pieces of your soul with an unseen God. It’s uncomfortable to believe we are fearfully & wonderfully made in a world that tells us we’re cosmic accidents, validated only by our feelings.
We’re so much more…
It’s impossible to fight the battle of identity or addictions (drugs, sex, whatever) alone. It takes a village, a congregation, a core group—it takes accountability, compassion, and most of all, the love of Jesus. When we get on our own like some kind of pillar, we crumble in the storms of life….and instead of rallying around someone to help them pick up the pieces, as a Church, we tend to light them up like funeral pyre & watch them burn.
We’re not doing it right…
Our “pillars” in the church are falling like dominoes. We’re not giving them the accountability, compassion, and love it takes to be deeply rooted in the truth of Christ, & they’re crumbling in shallow foundations. They’re pouring themselves out until the drought is all-consuming, but then we sit back and wonder, “what happened?”
WE happened.
The very same duties we have to report failures in the church are the same duties we have to help to bring restoration and healing. It doesn’t mean we put people back in the same positions, but it does mean we help them focus on reconciliation & healing in Christ. We gather around them in support & love, and we walk together in transparency & authenticity in who we are as a Body, who we’re called to be.
Authenticity, transparency, and restoration are messy. We’re a messy people that seem to always be trying to look like we’ve got it together, when in fact, we look like a drag queen in a thunderstorm.
We DON’T have it together.
But when we function in grace & humility, knowing who we truly are and loving like Jesus truly loves, He makes us into a beautiful place where His Spirit can truly revive what’s dead, find what’s been lost, and restore what’s been destroyed. That’s what He does—that’s the Great Exchange. And when we seek His Will, there is no fall from grace that He can’t rescue us through.
Michael Tait has publicly called himself a “horrible representative of Christ.” Authentic? Maybe? We may never know how many actual victims there are, & he may never see on this side of eternity what the consequences of his actions are. One thing I hope he does see and seek, is the truth of Who God made him to be…the forgiveness Jesus offers…and the comfort of a supportive, restoring village or congregation that works with him as he is on this journey of repentance and reflection. There’s a lot of healing for a lot of people that needs to take place, as this is a man with a lot of influence. When you’ve affected that many people and you wipe out so globally, there’s a tidal wave that rolls out.
I’m still going to listen to DCTalk. I’m still going to listen to the Newsboys. Hayley Williams called out the entire CCM industry & said that she hopes it “____ burns.” I don’t share that sentiment, but I get it. I hope the lack of accountability & transparency in CCM burns (& in the Church in general). I hope the desire to make a buck off of artists based on their talent over their ethics burns. I genuinely hope that every single person that knew Tait was abusing people & said NOTHING , faces dire consequences, because they’re complicit. I hope there’s a powder trail from this that leads to an explosion of truth in CCM, & that the abuse ends…
CCM is a huge part of the fabric of my faith. In my 40’s, there’s a great amount of unraveling from the people who spoke certain things over me in my youth, from the principles that those people shared. Broken people are still capable of being used by God, even when they’re in the midst of their shame, and I can’t throw it all out. A pastor that fell from grace still spoke verses of life over me, and those verses were beautiful…he might suck, but the Word holds. We can’t throw it all out, and that’s the beauty of grace. Grace teaches us to separate the fallible from the Perfect, and that’s what sticks, so yeah—I’m still going to sing the songs when my Amazon station plays them.
I truly hope Michael finds restoration…that the victims find healing & forgiveness…and that more than anything, the Church rallies around each of them to be a safe space of transparency, accountability, and growth in Christ….I hope the revelation of these behaviors leads to discussions about how the Church is empowering abusers by turning a blind eye to the tough discussions. I hope it causes us all to step back and reevaluate our “methods” of functioning as one Body (because as it stands, we’re kinda cancerous fam). I hope the Church takes a look at the topic of identity and decides that it’s better to come from a place of Love and Truth, then from judgment…
And I hope more than anything, that the love and grace of Jesus continues to meet each of us where we’re at….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kXJdshVNq0&list=PLy2_hHSlXxiOvFAlVWXR_xgrVtl1Ktlar
therapy
“Where’d You Go?!” AKA, “The Case of the Missing Body”
I’m going to start this blog out by making a statement I never thought I’d make & am terrified to state publicly: I have lost over 100 pounds.
“Where’d you GO?!?” is the question I am most commonly asked, and I generally respond, “I’m right here.” I’m still me. I’m still a giant jerk…still a giant nerd…still a flawed bonehead that loves Jesus & fails every day. I’m just….lighter.
I’m still a “big girl,” & I’m cool with that (even though I look like Shrek in family photos–why is everyone so SHORT?!?). I’ll never be petite–I’ve got hips that could birth a Hereford–& I’m 5’7.” I have feet like Sasquatch (my sister calls me “Casquatch” & I embrace it), so don’t get it twisted–I’m solidly built. I’m as my college “friend” called me, “healthy.”
Body confidence has NEVER been my forte. I dealt with so much body shaming growing up; when you grow up in the Church & you develop early, you’re punished for it. It’s crap. I was 14 and a DD, & my tiny, little Christian school couldn’t handle it. I got dress coded on a regular basis (like I asked for it?!?); my mom always reminded me to “suck it in,” as I had a belly even before I had my babies. I look back at pictures of myself, & I looked AMAZING at 17, but felt like a total freak show. I was taller, curvier, & louder than everyone I knew, and none of those things fit in well with a culture that wants you to be “meek.”
I felt hideous. I was “too much” for society, for church, & even for my family. I was different–I acted differently, and “different” was “bad,” so I tried to be what people wanted. I tried to dress in a way that covered everything up, but that’s hard to do when you’re top-heavy (& I only got more top-heavy as I went through college, leading to some horrific nicknames that I am still embarrassed by). If I could have taken a knife and cut off various parts of my body to relieve how ugly I felt, I would have. Every family picture showed how I didn’t fit in (several of those pictures are still on the walls in my parents’ house). Every group picture in the church youth group with the tiny, petite blue-eyed girls with straight hair, every picture of my vocal group in college where I’m trying to hide beneath suit jackets & scarves, every picture of me from my wedding where there’s industrial-strength tailoring holding me into my dress–every picture has a flaw I can’t help but to see.
These flaws are compounded by Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is a common thing for people with ADHD to struggle with.
I didn’t know I had ADHD until a few years ago. I just thought I was a weirdo, an outcast, the one “odd” personality type in a family that all tested one way while I tested another (side note: Personality tests were not designed for the neurodivergent. Throw them in the trash). I don’t fit in now, and I didn’t fit in then. Being told I was “different” added to the RSD. I looked different. I acted different. I was Built Different.
And therefore, I was BAD.
This voice that tells me I’m a “terrible, awful, horrible, wacky weirdo” has whispered in my ear for decades. It’s robbed me of being at peace with this “strange” mind, this “odd” body…it’s taken away the joy of being “fearfully and wonderfully made” that I should have celebrated, that I should BE celebrating. It’s sent me through cycles of self-harm & suicidal ideations that even though I recognize, I still encounter (sometimes through reasons I can’t control, i.e., medication changes–thank you, family & friends, for loving me through these processes!!!!!). Being weird or different, regardless of the fact that society is trying to preach inclusivity, isn’t welcomed, so I should just check out, right?
WRONG.
We just don’t realize how body image issues carry over into mental health…how it’s a spiritual issue that’s complicated by neurological and hormonal issues. Weight is NEVER the true problem. It’s ALWAYS a symptom, yet our healthcare system is only just starting to realize how true that is. Ask a fat person–we’ll tell you….but because we’re fat, we’re intrinsically stupid, right, doctors? And therefore, our opinion is void….and we pile on the mental health issues.
I’m 47 years old. It wasn’t until my ADHD was diagnosed and properly treated that I started looking over life experiences with a fresh filter & learned just how toxic and damaging my body image issues were. Losing weight has further complicated this retrospect, as I can see how many times health care providers dismissed major problems in the light of my weight. I have carried decades of guilt over my weight, like it defined my worth as a Child of God. I have gaslit myself & ignored root issues that played out in binge-eating & self-harm. I have looked at family pictures and privately sobbed (sometimes not privately) at how disgusting I looked & how I brought shame on our family with my size. I have shed oceans of tears over the combined issues that I now know were rooted in anxiety, depression, neurodiversity, rejection sensitive dysphoria, PTSD, and abandonment issues.
Shame is a heavy, heavy burden to carry. When it’s combined with RSD, it’s soul-crushing. When the burden of untreated ADHD finally began to be lifted, the lies of RSD began to untangle, & I began to get clarity on this skin that I am in, on this body (amongst other things). The ability to focus allowed me to silence the inner static that had me snacking constantly. Getting my ADHD treated led to a healthcare provider that got my diabetes under control through a semiglutide (which is also something I never thought I’d say publicly, but whatever, we’re all friends). I overhauled my healthcare team in 2021 & began the process of what would ultimately lead to losing 110 pounds.
But now what happens? I get shamed for using a semiglutide? That’s the only part of the journey people focus on?!?!? The shot gets all of the credit?!?!?!?!? Um, no–you can shove that. Today, I am refusing to take shame or blame for using an injection to first-&-foremost, get my T2D under control. Did it help me lose weight? Absolutely. Was it the only thing? NO. It’s taken multiple medication changes, getting my ADHD treated, therapy, better food choices, family support, and most importantly, remaining focused on listening to the Holy Spirit to carry the shame & to help me identify triggers. When you brain starts to work properly–when the synapses fire & connect– you can hear the truth of God so much more clearly. My ADHD meds have turned down the static in my brain, & have turned up how I tune in to Him!
There’s more of me to give, even as there’s technically less of me. Life is more….LIFE. That’s not saying things are easy; in fact, if you check my last blog, you’ll find our life has become intensely complicated in the last few months, & it’s been ROUGH. I see God working even in the storms…He is still in control.
And by His grace, so am I, at least, when it comes to my mental health support and my weight loss journey.
Physically, “don’t you feel better since you’ve lost the weight?!” is a misnomer. Losing weight can sometimes a.) Remove being fat as the cause of the problem and b.) Exacerbate the problem. As we speak, I’m in the process of ruling out yet-more autoimmune issues related to my legs & feet (did you know there’s a medical level above a neurologist?? Yep–I now see a “neuroscientist,” & it’s a trip). Testing for another issue means I’m off of my primary ADHD medicine for a couple of weeks, & IT’S NOT FUN. I’ve had a frightening decline in my energy levels (aren’t those supposed to be BETTER once you’ve lost weight?!?) that specialists are trying to identify, but that fatigue has been a cyclical issue that’s followed me for a decade. Now we at least know I’m exhausted not because I’m fat, but because I’m…me. That’s fun.
I’d like to throw up a face-palm for every doctor that missed signs of major issues because I was heavier. YOU. ARE. JERKS. 🙂 Jesus still loves you; I think you can go climb a cactus, for real.
Weight loss is hard, even in the face of perceived successes. I have anxiety every single time I clean out my closet (so bad!!!!!) or go into a store. I STRUGGLE with body image issues. The picture I’m posting below is what set off this blog post…I feel like I should LIKE this picture. I’m like, genuinely laughing in this picture, yet all I can see is the fact that because it was taken by someone who is shorter than I am, my neck looks fat. And fat, in my crazy-wired brain, is BAD. Therefore, even though I’ve lost weight, I’m still fat and ugly and this picture is terrible, right?
I sent this picture to someone who has been on a similar weight-loss journey & said, “I want to like this picture but I don’t.” She told me it was gorgeous (and considering she’s stone-cold STUNNING, I should take her word for it, but I don’t). She understands how I still feel like a heifer even after losing the weight; she struggles with the body image issues as well, even though she’s always had the figure I wish I had. The conversations I’ve had with her on our body image issues validates how I’m feeling, and how I know it’s messed up but can’t fix it.
I have to forcefully remind myself that losing weight does not define me. I’m terrified to gain it back, but if I do, gaining weight does not define me. This body is the shell for Who I Am, and although Who I Am is a definite weirdo, Jesus says I’m frickin’ SPECTACULAR. Whatever it takes for me to embrace that I am Who He Says I Am, that’s the journey I am committing to take, here on out.
My son is inspiring me to make this commitment. He’s on the shorter side of the kids in his class, & was recently tapped to play Napoleon in the school play (he didn’t really want a speaking role; he says that’s why he was cast in the role & I’m taking his word for it, even though a lil’ heathen said it was because he was short. I see her…duly noted, child, with a healthy dose of parental side-eye.)
My son’s body image issues started in the first-or-second grade, when the more athletic boys in the class were comparing muscles. What first grader has defined muscles?!?! Um, not mine–sorry, child, it’s not in the genetic cards. Since then, I try to stay aware of realistic comments like, “yeah, Mom, basketball’s not really my thing, hello?!?” verses shaming comments like, “I’m just fat, Mom.”
No, son, you’re not fat. I hate that you know that word and I hate that I’m the reason why. I’m sorry that your genetics predispose you to being on the thicker side but I also know that you’re on the cusp of a growth spurt & that you’ll lean out. I’m sorrier that he’s picked up on my own issues & struggles, and that being ADHD himself, he has some of the same eating habits that I developed to try & quiet my brain. “Bored eating” is a thing, & all of us fight it. I don’t know that the body image issues will resonate as deeply with him as it did with me at that age…but I also don’t think that body image issues are relegated to gender. Body dysmorphia is more impactful amongst the neurodivergent, so I suspect my son & I will be having this conversation a few times in the coming years. I am praying that he will come to me with these discussions to avoid the decades of pain this has caused me…
It’s very, very strange to see someone I haven’t seen in a long time & have them comment on my weight first-thing. Frankly, it’s rude–don’t do that. Don’t ask the people close to me how I’ve lost weight either–I’m an open book & if you were my friend, you’d know to ask me directly. If you don’t know, we’re not friends. We’re social media acquaintances in good standing. I don’t really want to discuss my weight, and part of the reason for this blog post is to hopefully put an end to the questions. I don’t like talking about weight–what woman does?!?–and if you like to talk about weight, good for you. Do it with someone else. It’s not a topic worth discussing.
Now, if you want to talk about Type 2 Diabetes, ADHD, RSD, or about how Jesus has changed my life, I will have these discussions All. Day. Long. The numbers on the scale, though? NO.
I am still the same person I was at +250 pounds. I am not, however, the same person I was 4 years ago…I look back at that person & I see a wholllllle lot of hurt that’s in the process of being identified and healed by a God Who has NEVER looked at me like anything but a beloved child.
I am listening to Him point out the pain in His gentle way, & love me to His wholeness.
This body will die some day. It will be fertilizer in the ground, or ash, or whatever…it isn’t eternal, so why have I put so much worth into to what people think of it? Why have I allowed it to have so much power over me when I look at it in the mirror? I can dress it up, slim it down, work it out–I can do everything within my power to build a body that doesn’t scream, “YUCK” when I look at it, but none of that will ever do anything more than build a shell for a divine creation of the Most High.
I’m worth dying for–He said so, & He lived-&-died for me. He rose again, & He is still working miracles through people today. All of our pain–all of my pain–& all of our struggles are things He is longing to hold in His hands, not to wipe away, but to walk us through. Weight loss is often seen by the world as a kind of salvation; I can tell you first-hand it is NOT. It’s a tool, however, & it can be used to harm or to help. I’m choosing to use it as a tool to point out what areas are still raw & that need to be given over to Jesus…where my insecurities show that I can further lay things down for Him, & where I realize the idols I’ve put in front of Him…I’m choosing to lose the weight but gain dependence on Jesus to a greater extent, to gain transparency with Him & to stop masking to such a degree that I convince myself that I’m fine. I’m not. I need Him, & I need His work in my mind, body, and soul.
He’s doing new things, and for that, more than anything–ADHD treatment, weight loss, etc.–I am so thankful.
Now you know. Let’s put this topic to bed, ‘k? 🙂 Unless you want me to flip it into a full sermon, because…I will. 🙂
Nashville (Where Else Can I Go?)
I am shaken to my core.
Sandy Hook broke my heart and put a fear in me that I have never truly gotten over. I was pregnant with Jericho at the time, days away from being hospitalized, and was absolutely terrified to bring my child into this world. I remember sitting in my office, bawling my eyes out, typing messages back-&-forth to a coworker that “this is yet another reason why I’m determined to put my kid into a Christian school.”
I haven’t said anything about Nashville because I have to process that yet another protective bubble I’ve put around my child has been shattered.
I’ve Googled bulletproof backpacks. I’ve thought about quitting my job to homeschool more times than I can count. I’ve questioned God, gun laws, gender identity, and why the hell people are so distracted from the truth of these tragedies…I honestly don’t know what to do, or how to protect my child in any other way but to daily fall on my face and beg God to take care of him…to trust Him to watch over his school, his classmates, his teachers and leadership….
When I was pregnant with my son, I knew every day that I was carrying a miracle. I knew that I could keep him safe…I could eat and drink the best things (sorry about the Taco Bell); I could cut way down on my coffee, eliminate the occasional glass of wine, watch the salt, and take my medicine. I took shots every day with a smile on my face, knowing that if this is what I needed to do to bring this child safely into the world, I’d do it. I’d do anything. 30 days of bed rest and twice-daily injections? Absolutely. Daily lab draws and internal ultrasounds? You got it. Lights off, no reading, and no visitors? Sure thing, Doc–you name it. Whatever it took to keep my baby safe, that’s what I’d do.
When he was born, I remember the fear I had on the drive home from the hospital…no nurses? The outside world seemed so big and scary, and everyone was a potential threat. Even David’s driving was under a microscope; every car on the highway was the enemy. I didn’t take my hand off of the car seat until we carried him inside of the house.
I learned to carry him in a Moby wrap, and he’d nestle into my chest, safe and sound. I held him as closely as I could, & I continued wearing him in some kind of carrier until he was 5 years old. I know that sounds ridiculous to some, but when your kiddo is a runner and you’re not, it sure makes it much less panic-inducing to have him in a crowd of people. I remember the last time he was in the carrier; we were at a huge Blues festival, and I knew where he was the entire time. I could have fun, and so could he, and he was safe because he was right with me. Who is possibly safer than an slightly-psychotic mother?!?
In-home daycare and preschools were tolerated because they sent daily photos & I knew I could check on him any time. We loved the people who cared for Jericho, not only because they were so good to him, but because they were so understanding of my anxiety & they responded to me with love and patience (and prayer). We interviewed potential schools for almost 2 years, and finally chose a local Christian school. For me, it was never a question: My child would be in a private Christian school. They put Jesus first, and he would be safe & surrounded by people of faith who would love him.
Kindergarten started, and we had a principal that I’d grown to love…but then he retired. I had to learn to trust new people, which hasn’t been easy, but as Jericho has grown, so has my ability to let others lead him in his life (not without behind-the-scenes questioning and some minimal trouble-making when I’ve been irked). I’ve had lots of questions, and I’m sure at times the school has dreaded seeing my e-mails come through; overall, though, we know he’s in a place where he’s loved and that teaches him the truth of Jesus in love.
School safety is an issue, even for a small Christian school, and I had to get used to seeing security on my child’s campus. Nothing is more heartbreaking than hearing your child say they’ve had to endure active shooter training. What kind of world do we live in, where that’s done on a regular basis? What kind of mentally unstable maniac goes after children?!? In a school? I just don’t understand….I had a very difficult time when I as an adult had to undergo campus shooting safety training; I struggled with panic attacks in the aftermath of my first training (I’m not going to say I’m ashamed to admit that. I think if someone feels like this kind of training is natural, they’re the ones that are crazy, not me). Now that I work on a different campus where there doesn’t seem to be any active shooter training, I almost find that more frightening.
I am struggling today, people. I’d like to say that I sat down to write this blog thinking that I’d end it with some pithy, spiritual, give-it-all-to-Jesus solution, but I don’t have it. My former pastor used to repeatedly sing the phrase, “where else can I go?” Where else can I take this? Where else can I lay my fear, my urge to wrap my kid in packing materials and never let him leave my house? His school sent out a mass e-mail today stating they were re-evaluating security measures, & I had to fight the urge to grab my keys & to go get my son. I can’t live in fear, and I can’t let my kid see that I’m afraid; kids DESERVE to live a life free of this kind of anxiety, and as parents, we can’t show them how deep it runs.
I have no choice but to say on repeat, “where else can I go? ‘For You have been my refuge, a tower of strength against the enemy’.” (Ps. 61:3). I’m going to claim this verse repeatedly until the panic in my spirit settles down. I’m going to trust that God is in control, and that the fear that is plaguing me will not take over my thoughts and actions today. I’m going to do my job, do the laundry, take care of the dog and on the outside, present as a normal suburban mother….I’m going to pray until the panic stops, and crank up the worship music to change the atmosphere in my house.
What I will not do, is:
- Politicize gun control (although I have MUCH to say on this issue)
- Comment on how I feel like weaponizing sexual identity is a terrible approach to any issue (although I have MUCH to say on this issue)
- Focus more on what I have to say than on the spiritual conditions of this nation and the fact that we’re at this level of daily violence (although I have MUCH to say on this issue)
- Embrace the rhetoric that fuels violence and hatred on all sides of any issue these days (although I have MUCH to say on this issue)
- Get caught up on social media comments and the keyboard commandos who can’t seem to filter themselves or to present with any kind of kindness or love in their words (although I have MUCH to say on the issue)
- Tell everyone all of the things I have to say on these issues, as if my words are anything that have an effect on these seemingly never-ending attacks and topics
I think we all have a lot to say on the topics of school shootings, gun control, identity, and violence. Words do nothing. Actions > words. Votes > words. Love > words. “They will know we are Christians by our _________” Um, comments on Facebook? Nope, that’s not it….Tweets? Nope, that’s not it……Protests? Nope….By screaming at people? Wait….um, nope.
“They will know we are Christians by our LOVE,” John 13:35. I John 4:18, “Perfect love casts out fear.”
Today, I am afraid.
Today, I am angry.
Today, I am ready to snatch up my boy and hold him as tightly as I can hold his little 10 year-old self, & never let him go.
Today, I didn’t want to see him leave the house.
Today, I remember that I had to stop myself from going into his room at 3:00am to kiss his head and make sure everything was okay, because I’m still dealing with PTSD that it’s hard to admit I have.
Today, I am finding it difficult to focus, because my spirit is sick at the condition of the world and how it’s creeping in from the East and West Coasts, and is in my so-called safety zone of the Midwest.
Today, I am claiming the mercies of God to breathe.
I’m not having a mental breakdown. I’m just putting all of my feelings as a mother into words, as someone who struggles with anxiety on days where there hasn’t been a mass act of violence against children. I normally function quite well with my mental issues. Things like Nashville can derail me, but I do find that I’m now armed with the things I need to do to stay on track and to not let my anxiety be visible to my child (thank you, therapy and Celebrate Recovery). To be honest, I wrote this blog because the comments on Facebook were causing me to have so much anxiety that I ripped what’s left of my fingernails down to the quick–that’s me being very real. The fighting and politicizing have got me so on edge that I can’t think straight, and I’m about to get rid of Facebook all together. I sat down to blog it out just so I could process and refocus on the grace of God–where else can I go? If you Google that phrase, you’ll find it’s in the Bible multiple times. It’s foundational, especially when the fear is so overwhelming. I know I’m saying it again, but it’s true, and it’s how I’m ending this. We so often think of Psalm 139 for the passage on being “fearfully and wonderfully made,” which is true, but there’s another part of the chapter I am choosing to focus on today:
“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” (Ps. 139: 8-11)
Please join me today in praying for the overwhelming fear, panic, and hatred that has this nation so firmly in its grip. Pray for the mental health of parents and children who struggle with the understanding of the headlines; pray for Nashville and other cities that are triggered by yet another mass shooting. Pray for the people who fund lobbyists that focus more on bottom lines and money, rather than the lives of children. Pray that we all focus on how to love better, and how to love louder than the fear.
Fourteen.
Every year around this time, I sit down to write with a focus on my Hannah Elizabeth Gayle Cooley. Can you believe she’d be 14 this year? This October 30th, my daughter would be turning 14 years old, & I’m sure had she stayed with us, that our social media feeds would be full of the things that mothers and teenagers are both besties and frenemies over. I’d like to think we’d have a great relationship, and that we would be on each other’s last nerve…that she’d be musical and lyrical, and free-spirited and independent, and that above all, she’d love Jesus. That’s my hope for both of my kiddos–that they love Jesus. I think a lot of parents would say that about their children.
Last night, I was perusing Instagram when the Humans of New York page came up:
I don’t need to go into the “whys,” for my breakdown (albeit a brief one) into the Ugly Crys. You know me well enough to understand that when I read the phrase, “we got our miracle,” that it broke me. I’m so grateful that HONY shared this story, because I remember what it was like to see that room full of people who poured their hearts out for days, petitioning to the Lord to save my daughter’s life. We didn’t get our miracle, and I can’t paint that in any kind of redeeming light. I will never understand the whys (on this earth), and even if I did, would that make it any better? No. So we pursue on in faith, trusting that He knows what He’s doing when He makes His choices.
Last week, our daily reading plan (click the link, you won’t be sorry–see my last blog for details) had us reading in both Micah and in 2 Timothy. In 2 Timothy, we see Paul coming to the end of his life, as he writes his final words from prison.
In Micah, we see a prophet trying to prepare his community…trying to get them to wake up and seek the Lord for their redemption…He states the oft-quoted,
Meanwhile, as Paul looks at the approaching end of his life, he states,
We have a mandate to “do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.” Only when we do these things, can we look at the end of our life and say, with confidence (not arrogance) that we have “fought the good fight,” and that we have “kept the faith.”
This is not an easy thing to do…it’s not a small task, and Jesus knows what He is asking us to do.
Trials–deaths, sickness, COVID, poverty, unemployment, crime, whatever–come and go, but Jesus and His love for us are eternal.
That’s the only reason I have any hope for anything.
After I read the HONY story last night, I tripped up over “we got our miracle,” and my mind immediately went to “why?” I’ve blogged about this before; the “whys” range from plaintive cries to flat-out screams, and they’re always there in some respect. The question is do I stay there? Do I keep questioning, knowing the outcome will always be the same, until I’m face-to-face with Him? Or do I take a deep breath (or 50), let the tears fall, and listen to Him remind me that He loves me? That He’s still in control? That I’m heard, and that He understands? I make a choice every time the “why” comes to the forefront of my thoughts. I choose to “walk humbly with my God,” and that means that above all, I trust Him.
No one ever said that was a fun choice.
Sometimes the world smacks us in the face with that reminder….that reminder that we are strangers in a strange land, and that we can’t let ourselves get sucked into the mindgames and emotional traps that are laid for us: “Dear friends, you are foreigners and strangers on this earth. So I beg you not to surrender to those desires that fight against you“–I Pet. 2:11-12, CEV
Those “desires that fight against” us aren’t just people throwing lusts of the flesh in our face. They’re also the “quicksand” that we get trapped into, that make us question His motives and character, and our own faith. It’s cyclical thinking that kicks off our anxiety and leaves us an emotional basket case. I’m not immune to it, but I’d like to think I can spot the traps a bit easier now than I used to. Those first few years after Hannah passed away? Oooh, I got caught UP in some messes.
Grief and loss are pitfalls for so many of us…playing the “why?” game with God is a dangerous dead weight that only serves an enemy that wants to see us destroyed.
It’s a tender time of the year for us–for David as well as for myself, even when we seem like everything is fine. Our daughter is never far from our minds, but as her birthday approaches, memories come back, and I know I find myself looking at her pictures a bit more…remembering tiny hands, and beautiful, red-pink cheeks (like her Daddy), and how she’d snuggle in to the soft robe my mother had made me…how she smelled like Cheerios, and how to this day, I cherish every photo taken of family and friends because I know how much those pictures of her mean to me.
I’m finding myself ready to withdraw from social events, and from social media in general–whether it’s healthy or not, I never know, but I will tell you that I make no apologies. Maybe that sounds rude, but I’ve learned that if I don’t listen to these emotions, they’ll pop out at the most inopportune times, and I have no desire to have another flippin’ sobfest in the middle of a Hobby Lobby, so if I tell you I can’t make it, let me be. 🙂
I started writing a piece last night that I think I will leave unfinished; I feel like it makes a good conclusion, even though it’s not fully written, because “unfinished” feels like a pretty good way to describe how I’m feeling through all of this….
“Breaking Down,” AKA, “How to Hide the Decline of Your Mental Health, for Dummies”
“I hear the subtle hum inside my head as I push the pillow further into my face, trying to stifle the sobs that are trying to escape: ‘You’re crazy. No one is listening. No one can help you. You’re losing it. Give up already. This is where it all falls apart. You can’t do this much longer. Admit that you’re failing. Admit that you’re nothing. You’re dying. You’re drowning. You’re dying. You’re drowning.’
Over and over, the words run through my head, fast, then slow…louder….louder….it’s a tattooed rhythm that, if I don’t stop it, will become a non-stop stranglehold that stops the air from escaping my lungs.
I feel the panic rising, and I try, try, try, TRY to breathe…I try to pray, calling on the Name of Jesus, knowing that He’s there but completely unable to grasp His peace or to hear His voice. I’m failing in this…just another thing that I’m failing at…
The water rises, and I can feel the pressure…my chest hurts, my heartbeat is heavy and erratic, and I wonder if it’s the stress, or the new medication for the never-ending headaches that seem to be beyond my doctor’s diagnostic abilities. Change a medicine. Order a test. Get some bloodwork.
Never tell anyone that your head is about to explode from the weight of all that has been layering up to bury you over the past 6 months…
Don’t tell your mother…
Don’t tell your dad.
Don’t tell your husband; he doesn’t understand and he thinks you just “love” going to the doctor…
Don’t tell your boss…you need this job, you can’t go anywhere else, and you have to make them think you’re on top of your game…
Don’t tell your friends…they’re sick of hearing about one health issue after another.
Don’t tell your pastors, because you can’t seem to pray this away…
Don’t tell your sisters…don’t tell your brother…
Surely taking it all to God is enough….
But I can’t sleep, and no matter how much worship music I pray, how hard I cry out, or what I say, there’s no miracle cure for this….
Five days…two weeks….three weeks….
How long have I been like this?
The inside of my cheeks are raw from chewing the sides of them….my skin is a disaster, and for whatever reason, I’m in constant, unrelenting pain in my wrists, feet, back, shoulders, and fingers. It might ebb or secede, but it’s always there…”
These words…my words…were written last week. Last week…it seems like a lifetime ago. I’m not going to say that I’m not struggling, even now, but last week? I LOST IT. We’re talking, hide in my room, cry into a pillow, have to explain myself because my kid saw me lose it, Lost It. I’m still fighting through this, and I don’t say that in some way that says I’m some kind of a warrior or something dramatic. I say it because that wave of overwhelming anxiety is standing on the brink of my sanity for whatever reason, and I know I’m one wrong comment away from falling back into it. Just acknowledging my own fragility makes my chest tighten…I don’t want to go there again. I never did call my doctor…I should have, but I did a Google search on a medication I was trying to get off of, and figured out that panic attacks, massive depression, and suicidal tendencies are side effects of not tapering off of this medication correctly.
That’s not saying that I wasn’t tapering off of the medication–and yes, it was with a doctor’s supervision. I must have gotten confused on the specifics of the tapering, because it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I swear to you, I will deal with migraines until I’m blind before I go back on that medication again. My anxiety is usually manageable, but for the past 3-4 weeks, it’s gotten out of control, and last week nearly did me in. I know that sounds awfully final, but I was not in a good place.
Fortunately for me, God broke through and very lovingly, in His way, reminded me of two things: He loves me, unequivocally. Also, He gave me people in church leadership who know me and love me well, and can handle my frantic text of, “I can’t talk. Pray for me.” They know me well enough to know that I don’t say things like that, and that something is seriously wrong. They checked on me later on, and made sure I was okay…I also had a friend that knew the details of what was up, and listened–sometimes, that’s the biggest thing.
I have such a blind eye sometimes to toxic relationships…like, I’m just used to putting up with so much crap from certain people, that I haven’t even noticed what a blister they’ve rubbed on my heart, until it’s abscessed. I have forgotten to protect my heart, even though I know that when I don’t, it trickles down to my family. When chemistry goes bad (you know, all of those neurotransmitters in your brain that need to stay level or else you go off the goofy-crap-o-meter), coupled with the damages of stress and toxic relationships, it’s the kind of combination that results in only one thing: A CATASTROPHIC EARTH-SHATTERING KA-BOOM.
You know what I told my son last week, when he heard me crying in my bedroom?
I said (after I had pulled myself together), “You know what, Buddy? Everyone’s brain is a little different, and sometimes…
Sometimes, Mommy’s brain is kind of broken.
It gets overwhelmed, and it gets hurt, and then Mommy sort of crumbles and breaks down.
But it’s going to be okay…and I always know that. I just sort of have to reset sometimes, and crying, and getting all of my hurt out, does that; sometimes, Mommy’s medicines make things a little weird, too. I just have to process a whole bunch of stuff, and I will figure it out. Jesus knows what hurts, and what’s in my heart and in my brain, and He will sort it all out.”
How do you explain mental health to a seven-year old?
I have no idea, but I’ll tell you one thing: I’m always going to try.
Maybe if at 7, I had understood any concept of mental health, I would have been able to understand when mental health was good, and when it was challenging. Maybe if at 7, I had understood mental health, I would have developed the language I needed as a teenager, as a college student, as a young adult, as a grown woman, to understand that mental health challenges are NORMAL, and are just as treatable and as common as a headache, once you begin the conversation with the right people. Maybe if at 7, I had understood mental health, I would be aware that you can’t process spiritual concepts like prayer and healing, when your brain is so affected that you can’t sleep, or your eating habits are jacked up, or you’re so anxious that you can’t focus on beginning to get the Word of God into your mind. Maybe if at 7, I understood mental health, I would have understood that things like sadness, anger, stress, pressure, anxiety–NONE of these struggles mean you are a bad person, or that God loves you any differently or any less.
So, for better or for worse, I am always going to be honest with my kiddo about my broken brain.
There are physical, chemical reasons for emotional/mental imbalances…there are also spiritual reasons, and there is healing that needs to be done on multiple levels. I’m grateful for medical health…prescription medication is very helpful, even though getting the right balance of the right medication is tricky (if you’re going through this, please give yourself grace, and be candid with your doctor and with your family! It’s so, so hard, and I don’t think I’m there yet…I thought I was, and then these last few weeks hit). Spiritual health and support is KEY–please talk to your church leadership, and if they’re not the type that will respond to your text or your call for help, FIND A NEW CHURCH. There is no place in the Body of Christ for the pastor that will not shepherd his flock, and I speak from experience. I’m talking pastors, elders, home group leaders–you have to have someone in the church that will help you when you’re hurting. It’s biblical. We’re not made to go through these battles alone.
I’m still working my way through this storm. I’m not on the other side yet, even though I probably seem almost normal (whatever my “normal”) is. I’m waiting on some test results, and I’m probably going to look back into therapy. I still find myself getting caught up in the whole, “it’s expensive, and I don’t have time!!” but then I find myself making time for other things, so I need to figure this out. Stress is INTENSE, especially right now, as we’re one of many families that’s been impacted financially from COVID-19. My stresses and my mental struggles are so miniscule compared to some that I’ve heard about; I know I can’t compare myself to others, and sometimes it works against me (most of the time), but still. These are not the best of times. I’ll be glad to wave goodbye to 2020…and these past few weeks are burned into my brain as the pinnacle of the worst times I’ve had since all of this began (even worse than the spike of depression I dealt with in May).
There’s always, always, ALWAYS hope on the horizon, though, and I will not stop praying that I have my eyes open to the beauty in all of this. There are some amazing experiences that we’ve got to do and to witness through all of this. There have been blessings, there has been laughter, and there has been much to be grateful for. My biggest struggles have been in my own head, and regardless of the reason, I am so grateful that God does not abandon His own, even when they’re stuck in their own headspace. He breaks through in ways we may not even realize…we can’t give up. This world is quicksand, and it’s only getting thicker….I’ve had a recurring theme in this blog over the past year, though, and that’s how He is our Rescuer…He is our Anchor, and He’s also our Life Raft…
So, now that a week has gone by, I look back at the words that I wrote and the heaviness, though still tangible, is fading. I know it’s close by, and can lay back down at any second, so I’ve been doing some things that I know are preemptive…They’re not cure-alls, but they definitely help:
- I have some kind of worship music playing in the background all day long at work. Right now, I’m into Maverick City Music and I’m always into Bethel. I also like just about anything by Forerunner Music (International House of Prayer).
- I stopped looking at the news for more than a few minutes a day. I can’t deal with the state of this nation anymore, and I can’t handle the anxiety it induces, particularly during this election year, so I’m just checking basic headlines and I’m leaving it alone. Also, I DO NOT ENGAGE IN ARGUING WITH PEOPLE ON SOCIAL MEDIA. I also don’t tolerate people arguing on my pages. It’s nothing but a waste of time that does more to harm the body of Christ and further the thought pattern that Christians are nothing but argumentative, arrogant fools, and I won’t be a part of it. I Peter 3:15-16–I’ve quoted it enough on this blog that I’d better live it out, right? See an opinion you disagree with? Scroll on by. There–didn’t hurt, right? 🙂
- I’m sticking to a routine, which is easier since my son is back to in-person school (glory to GOD, y’all!). This includes getting in daily Bible readings or listening to a daily reading. Here’s the plan I’m using: https://thewaystlouis.com/bible-reading-plan/
- I’ve explained that certain messes in the house absolutely must be cleaned up, and need to stay clean, because I can’t handle it–messes aren’t peaceful, and I need peace. Since only one of us is working right now, that falls on the other to take care of. This mandate doesn’t win anyone any friends, but neither does having a mental breakdown at 4:30 in the afternoon. I’ve found this image helpful, as it explains things I didn’t realize (and if you’re the one in charge of cleaning, don’t take this as any kind of shade or guilt–that’s how I initially took it, and I started getting worked up over it, and then I realized that hey–I can only do so much. This is just the psychology behind it, and dang it, I’m gonna give myself some grace!!):
5. Deep breaths. I’m absolutely serious about this. I’ve botched a few presentations lately, and I’ve botched a few personal conversations lately, because I get so anxious and nervous that IJustStartTalkingAndICantShutUpAndBeforeIKnowItISaidWHAT?!? And, like toothpaste, you just can’t put those words back in the tube. It stinks. So I’m making myself breathe, deeply, and close my eyes, and refocus–sometimes in front of people, which leads to #6:
6. I’m being brutally, painfully honest. Posting this blog isn’t easy. Admitting my mental state from last week isn’t easy. Telling my husband that I’m cuckoo-crazy-pants isn’t easy. Watching him stomp up the stairs because I’ve unnecessarily snapped at him isn’t easy…and neither is apologizing a few seconds later, when he’s reemerged to find out if the weather’s changed. Admitting that I can be tumultuous (I’m being nice) isn’t easy. None of this is easy. Realizing that one tiny pill can upset this apple cart of a crap brain isn’t easy (and it’s incredibly, incredibly frustrating…not only to deal with, but to get doctors to understand). Having to make myself visibly stop and breathe/blink when in a conversation with a co-worker so that I don’t start bawling, isn’t easy, and neither is looking them dead-in-the-eye and admitting that, “hey, I’m sorry–I’m a mess right now while we adjust some medications” is NOT EASY, and I have to wonder what the professional impact will be. I’m not afraid to ask for kindness if I need to, I don’t think….but–
#7. I am worth it. My mental health is worth sorting out and worth paying attention to. My stability is worth fighting for, especially for my family’s sake, because being a wife & a parent is everything I’ve ever wanted in my life, and dang it, I’m not going to watch that relationship be affected or lost because I didn’t put the time, the education, the prayer, the help, into it.
If you’re still reading, please know that above all, YOU ARE WORTH IT, too. Jesus says so, and He’s said it from the beginning of time. You–not some ambiguous people group. You, as an individual, YOU are so loved, and you are so worth PEACE….I think that’s what mental, and spiritual health, all tie into–peace. We can’t have peace in our hearts when we’re fighting so hard, but we can’t give the battle over to the Lord when our brains are imbalanced. It’s a battle against flesh (the brain) and blood (the spiritual), and it’s one that starts with Him. He uses all sorts of things–meds, prayer, health and mental care providers–He has endless resources, and He loves you so much that He’s in this fight even more than you are.
You’re loved. Keep fighting. We’re in this together—I’m not saying that to be trite; I’m saying it because it’s true. ❤
Additional Resources:
https://www.aloveworthlivingfor.com/blog/verses-for-social-anxiety
https://themighty.com/2019/02/bible-verses-mental-health-depression-anxiety/
Cassidy's Commentary 