Relating
It's raining again.
I'm stuck at Cafe Dabar (I walked) waiting for the rain to subside, feeling rather reflective. I'm taking a break from the crossword that Erika and I have been cheating on because I've hit an impass. Maybe I will have some insight after some bloggy goodness.
I spent some time at post secret today catching up on this week's secrets and I read one that really resonated with me. Here it is:
***Sometimes I wonder if I have a mental illness, but I don't want to tell anybody because I am scared that my fears would be confirmed. So I don't tell people what is going on in my head, and I just pretend to be as normal as possible***
I wonder how common this thought is. This is directly tied into my thoughts on depression. I have definately been wrestling with this concept this past year, for a number of reasons. Partly due to blogging, I have come into contact with so many people who are SO unhappy. They write about the anti-depressants they are taking, and the doctors who don't listen, the family who doesn't understand, and the world in general that is against them. Each and every one of these people break my heart. And yet, something with in my psyche links my experience with theirs, though on a completely different level. I wonder if depression, or perhaps unhappiness, is a product of indulgence or an actual physical reaction to stress or chemical imbalances and the like. I wonder if there is a solution that we can find within our wills if we search hard enough. I wonder if there is a difference between unhappiness and a lack of joy. For although my level of surface-y happiness has been considerably reduced this year, it has only been in the rare moments lacking joy that I have known true despair. And these, while often fleeting, are truly indescribeable.
I have come to know that the body physically reacts to stress and anxiety. I see more rashes, breakouts, and I get sick to my stomach. Emotionally I get tired, clingy, and panicky. And yet I wonder if it's a choice that I'm making to experience such things. Could I pull myself from this state when it washes over me? Or am I the victim of unchangeable circumstance? Causality.
I suppose the point in question that I am ever-so-slowly coming too is *Do we, as people of faith, have a choice in how we deal with our emotions? Are we given extra "something" that allows us to bypass these feelings?* On first thought I think no. Just as we are not immune to the common cold we are not immune to anxiety or unhappiness. However that response is based on the assumption that unhappiness or lack of joy is actually a sickness and not strictly a refusal of a gift given by Christ.
But I HAVE to believe it's a sickness because I can't bring myself to admit that having an emotional breakdown is the same as turning away the provisions of Christ. That's like telling somebody that they are dying of cancer because of a lack of faith, or because there is unconfessed sin in their lives. It's such a load of crap. I feel as though I have received the better end of the deal in this sense compared to the above blogging friends that I've met, because although I struggle with anxiety from time to time, it does not consume me. I can laugh, I can feel, I can be content. I have a boyfriend who loves me, gets me, and lets me call him late at night to say "hi, how are you, I'm lonely", a family that supports me and understands me, and friends who have encircled me with more care and compassion than I thought possible. I have no desire to turn my back on my faith, in fact, my desire to grow has only been building. These things make me think that although I resonate with the secret above, I am ok. Really, ok.
Maybe I'm just struggling with the immense number of people that are dealing with depression or emotional breakdowns in our world, and feel as though they are totally alone, when really, they are more of a majority than you would even believe. I'm slightly frustrated as I write this because my thoughts are not coming out nearly as eloquently as I would hope, and I can't seem to get my ideas in the proper form, without sounding like an ignorant judgemental fool. Psycho babble to the enth degree. Maybe I just really don't want to go to work tomorrow....
It's not raining anymore, but due to the intense scariness of the prowling drunk student with the roving eyes who just screamed [literally] his presence into Dabar, I shall wait for a ride instead of attempting to walk home alone. I hope my Mom is reading this, she'd be so proud!
I'm stuck at Cafe Dabar (I walked) waiting for the rain to subside, feeling rather reflective. I'm taking a break from the crossword that Erika and I have been cheating on because I've hit an impass. Maybe I will have some insight after some bloggy goodness.
I spent some time at post secret today catching up on this week's secrets and I read one that really resonated with me. Here it is:
***Sometimes I wonder if I have a mental illness, but I don't want to tell anybody because I am scared that my fears would be confirmed. So I don't tell people what is going on in my head, and I just pretend to be as normal as possible***
I wonder how common this thought is. This is directly tied into my thoughts on depression. I have definately been wrestling with this concept this past year, for a number of reasons. Partly due to blogging, I have come into contact with so many people who are SO unhappy. They write about the anti-depressants they are taking, and the doctors who don't listen, the family who doesn't understand, and the world in general that is against them. Each and every one of these people break my heart. And yet, something with in my psyche links my experience with theirs, though on a completely different level. I wonder if depression, or perhaps unhappiness, is a product of indulgence or an actual physical reaction to stress or chemical imbalances and the like. I wonder if there is a solution that we can find within our wills if we search hard enough. I wonder if there is a difference between unhappiness and a lack of joy. For although my level of surface-y happiness has been considerably reduced this year, it has only been in the rare moments lacking joy that I have known true despair. And these, while often fleeting, are truly indescribeable.
I have come to know that the body physically reacts to stress and anxiety. I see more rashes, breakouts, and I get sick to my stomach. Emotionally I get tired, clingy, and panicky. And yet I wonder if it's a choice that I'm making to experience such things. Could I pull myself from this state when it washes over me? Or am I the victim of unchangeable circumstance? Causality.
I suppose the point in question that I am ever-so-slowly coming too is *Do we, as people of faith, have a choice in how we deal with our emotions? Are we given extra "something" that allows us to bypass these feelings?* On first thought I think no. Just as we are not immune to the common cold we are not immune to anxiety or unhappiness. However that response is based on the assumption that unhappiness or lack of joy is actually a sickness and not strictly a refusal of a gift given by Christ.
But I HAVE to believe it's a sickness because I can't bring myself to admit that having an emotional breakdown is the same as turning away the provisions of Christ. That's like telling somebody that they are dying of cancer because of a lack of faith, or because there is unconfessed sin in their lives. It's such a load of crap. I feel as though I have received the better end of the deal in this sense compared to the above blogging friends that I've met, because although I struggle with anxiety from time to time, it does not consume me. I can laugh, I can feel, I can be content. I have a boyfriend who loves me, gets me, and lets me call him late at night to say "hi, how are you, I'm lonely", a family that supports me and understands me, and friends who have encircled me with more care and compassion than I thought possible. I have no desire to turn my back on my faith, in fact, my desire to grow has only been building. These things make me think that although I resonate with the secret above, I am ok. Really, ok.
Maybe I'm just struggling with the immense number of people that are dealing with depression or emotional breakdowns in our world, and feel as though they are totally alone, when really, they are more of a majority than you would even believe. I'm slightly frustrated as I write this because my thoughts are not coming out nearly as eloquently as I would hope, and I can't seem to get my ideas in the proper form, without sounding like an ignorant judgemental fool. Psycho babble to the enth degree. Maybe I just really don't want to go to work tomorrow....
It's not raining anymore, but due to the intense scariness of the prowling drunk student with the roving eyes who just screamed [literally] his presence into Dabar, I shall wait for a ride instead of attempting to walk home alone. I hope my Mom is reading this, she'd be so proud!
posted by Rach at 9:21 PM
1 Comments:
I think you can be assured that we of faith are not immune to these feelings by the fact that Christ was not while He was here. He struggled just as much as we do, utherwise He wasn't full man. I think the difference is that we of faith realize that our trust, strength, worth, purpose, and lives are not our own, but come from God. I realize how cliche and trite this sounds, "When you're sad just think of God and you'll be happy," but part of the reason that it's cliche is because it has some truth. When some stumbling drunk fool hits on you or a salesperson treats you like **** (just in case your mom reads this) it's okay because they're wrong not you.
Make no mistake, no one has reached the point of utter security in God, not this side of the grave anyway, but it's a process, right?
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