I asked on Instagram and Facebook for your questions about faith and mental illness and am so honored by the questions and the response you gave me! I will do my best to answer them one by one. If you have a question, please send me a message or write it in the comments! I love hearing them!
What have you done for yourself over the years to become more secure with your identity as someone who battles mental illness?-Katie
I remember sitting in health class in seventh grade and learning about self-esteem. A person who is healthy, I was taught, has good self-esteem. Being the achiever I am, I thought to myself, “Well, then I must have good self-esteem.” But I didn’t really know what it was. I didn’t know how to get it. I didn’t particularly struggle with it at the time, so I took pride that I was healthy and that was that.
Fast forward three years and I am sitting by myself outside at the camp where I am volunteering for two weeks. I have been assigned to work at the horse corral. Most of my work is done alone. I shovel manure, water the over-dry horse ring, fork hay, sweat buckets, and cry to myself that I have been cast aside while the rest of the camp is frolicking and enjoying time together. Not only is the work hard, but I split two pairs of pants down the crotch that I repair with duct tape. My humiliation complete.
I don’t know how to express my sadness and sense of rejection with anyone — after all, I hardly know anyone there. At the end I am given a review, but it feels more like criticism as I am marked for the things I didn’t do well as well as a few things that were fine. I look back at that week and recognize the beginnings of my experience with social anxiety disorder. Constant shame. Constant feelings of inadequacy and fear of social situations.
High school in general was a horror. Anxiety bred shame. Shame, depression. Depression, suicidal thoughts. I eventually got the treatment I needed — medications and therapy — but shame remained for years. My sense of security, my sense of self, did not come until I had battled the shame.
Three Ways I Battle Shame in Mental Illness
First, I seek help. One evening in high school I brought my Psychology textbook to my mom and revealed to her that I had all of the symptoms of social anxiety disorder and depression. I could not get the help I needed alone. She and my dad got me in to see a doctor, psychiatrist and counselor.
I continue to seek help. I continue to go to counseling as needed as an adult. One therapist was particularly helpful. I shared some of my most embarrassing thoughts and feelings with her and she — God, bless her — did not judge me. She normalized my experiences and helped me recognize that I was not more flawed than anyone else. More than that, she gave me an understanding of myself as one of many feeling this way. She affirmed me where I needed it most. She was a gift.
Second, I asked God questions. I asked him why I struggle. I was pretty up front and accusatory at times. I prayed like the psalmists do in the lament psalms.
- “How long oh Lord, will you forget me forever?” – Psalm 13:1
- “I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.” – Psalm 6:6
- “When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands, and I would not be comforted.” -Psalm 77:2
I aired my grievances with God. I voiced all of my insecurities. Again, I was met with acceptance and love. God began to speak, “I have redeemed you and called you by name. You are mine” (Isaiah 43:1). For me, knowing I was called — wanted even — was the most important thing. My shame tells me I am not good enough unless I achieve or prove I am worth it. God tells me I am desired. I am good enough because He loves me. There are times when I don’t hear or feel that affirmation. In those times I continued to cry out and trust He hears me (Psalm 55:7). Sometimes being heard and received is enough.
Finally, I have owned my story and cared for myself through depressive episodes. I’ll never forget when I recognized symptoms of depression while I was pregnant with my second child. I had horrendous postpartum depression with my first and I was determined not to put us all through that again. So I immediately called my midwife and asked to be put on an antidepressant. Medication has been the only thing that has worked for me to cope and I knew I needed it. That action, that recognition of my need, combined with my care for my own needs marked a tremendous change in my attitudes about my experiences of anxiety and depression. It is not my fault, I recognized. It is something that is happening to me. I must do what I need to do to get through it. (I can talk more about what those things are another time.)
This is not to say I don’t ever struggle with shame — it is still easier for me to talk about my anxiety than it is my depression — but through these three things: help from others, affirmation from God, and self-advocacy, shame has no place with me. My mental illness does not define me, it is not who I am. It is something I endure. I am loved and worth caring for. You are too.
What have you done to overcome shame from mental illness? How have you been received when you tell your story?
What are your questions about faith and mental illness?
I look forward to hearing from you!
No Comments Yet