Category Archives: family

book reviews, depression, family

One of Two Books I've Read on Depression: Speaking of Sadness

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Over the last year or more I’ve read a number of books on or about depression in different ways. When I could concentrate enough to read. Two books I read early on I’ve mean to write about for some time. Here is the first one. The second will follow:

Speaking of Sadness
By David A. Karp

Karp is a sociology professor at Boston College. He is not a Christian (neither is the other writer). However, Dr. Karp’s book is profound. He has suffered from depression himself, and so the book is part auto-biographical, part sociology, and part explanation of what is happening to you and how others around you are reacting to it.

Some of the topics he discusses are disconnection, illness as identity, medication, coping, family, and depression’s impact on our society. It was probably the sections on disconnection and illness as identity that were the most useful to me. Depression forces one to withdraw into yourself. You shrink, so that you feel like you are in a deep dark hole and can only barely see out at all. Friends fall by the wayside, family even. Many a divorce has had depression as one of the chief causes. So to understand how and why this disconnection is happening is quite important.

Perhaps equally important is the concept of illness as identity. I remember having a conversation with my wife’s brother once. He said that he hated being called a diabetic. He had diabetes. In his mind, the illness did not define him, and so he wanted to create separation between himself and the illness. That can be done with physical diseases and illnesses to some degree. No one says “I am a flu-er”, you say you have the flu. Even this has it’s limits. Paraplegic. Diabetic. These are but a couple examples of where the illness is incorporated socially into the identity of a person.

But with mental illness it is different. Because depression and mental illness are so invasive, because we can’t seem to separate our minds from ourselves, depression quickly gloms itself on to the identity. You are marked as unclean or not quite right in the head. There is a social stigma that goes along with depression. Are you trustworthy, or will you just crash? Jobs, family, church, all of these areas an more can make depression become a part of you. I am surprised that no one has coined a term like “I am a depressionic” or something to that effect. Karp addresses this phenomenon with a great deal of insight.

Now where is the Gospel in a secular book like this? There isn’t any, directly. He goes through the journey down into the valley and back up again. It is descriptive, with many helpful insights along the way. I would highly recommend this book, for example, to anyone suffering from depression and especially to their family. It is very good for understanding this. What he doesn’t do (and I have yet to find) is a real treatment of the relationship between mental illness and faith. How is it that I can cry, “I trust when dark my road” and yet mentally not believe there is a future for me? Is the mind the sole place for faith, so that if my mind isn’t right, it must mean my faith isn’t right?

God forbid. Faith is a gift, not an achievement. It is a gift that God continues to give, no matter how difficult the circumstances. In fact, the harder it is, the sweeter God’s gift will become. Even if you don’t feel it. Even if you can’t see past the next fifteen minutes. That doesn’t mean God abandons you. It means that he is hidden for a time so that He may reveal Himself more fully to us at the proper time. There is hope. There is a future. There is a Messiah who comes.

-DMR

children, depression, Disability, Pastoral Office

On Chase, Preaching and Other Signs of Light

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As I continue on the road to recovery, there have been a couple bright spots that I thought would be worth mentioning here. You never can tell what is really going to be important to you somehow.

Chase
For my children, the mark of my illness and recovery is very simple. Chase. If I can play chase, I must be getting better. If I can’t play chase, then I’m still sick in the head (or something to that effect). Because right now the hardest thing for me to handle is my children, chase sort of represents a reentry into my family’s regular life schedule.

Chase is hard. I know, I know. It’s just running around like a crazy person with a few kids. But for the person suffering from depression, that kind of unwanton abandon, noise, suddon movement and general insanity is way outside of the normal comfort zone. It requires energy, excitement, the ability to say BOO at just the right time, etc.

In other words, just about everything that is difficult, all wrapped up in something that is so easy that most people do it even without thinking. But that is so often the case with depression. Things that you believe should be easy can become difficult on the way to impossible.

I think I’ve played chase once in the last year. This is down from at least once a day, maybe more. The once was last week. If we can move to once a week, that will be a huge step in the right direction

Preaching and Preparation
I’ve been preaching more and more the last couple months. Right now I’m pretty close to every week. Most of the sermons have been reruns, or last-minute throw together jobs. They were not my best were, or if they were, they were my best work from 2-5 years ago.

But last week was the first week that I had “normal” preparation for my sermon. Look at the text early in the week, read patristic and Luther sermons, see if there’s anything worthwhile that’s modern, and then write it down early enough in the week so I have time to edit it. Something like that. This happened last week. I don’t really even know why, it just did. So my Sermon on Sunday was much more relaxed, more “normal” for me. The congregation probably couldn’t tell the difference, but I could. It was a good sign.

Here are some questions for you:
1) What have you found the most difficult thing to come back to doing?
2) What made or is making it the most difficult?
3) What has been the easiest part of your life to return to “normal” and why?
4) What will never be the same?

Food for thought,
-DMR

children, depression, Disability, Pastoral Office

On Chase, Preaching and Other Signs of Light

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As I continue on the road to recovery, there have been a couple bright spots that I thought would be worth mentioning here. You never can tell what is really going to be important to you somehow.

Chase
For my children, the mark of my illness and recovery is very simple. Chase. If I can play chase, I must be getting better. If I can’t play chase, then I’m still sick in the head (or something to that effect). Because right now the hardest thing for me to handle is my children, chase sort of represents a reentry into my family’s regular life schedule.

Chase is hard. I know, I know. It’s just running around like a crazy person with a few kids. But for the person suffering from depression, that kind of unwanton abandon, noise, suddon movement and general insanity is way outside of the normal comfort zone. It requires energy, excitement, the ability to say BOO at just the right time, etc.

In other words, just about everything that is difficult, all wrapped up in something that is so easy that most people do it even without thinking. But that is so often the case with depression. Things that you believe should be easy can become difficult on the way to impossible.

I think I’ve played chase once in the last year. This is down from at least once a day, maybe more. The once was last week. If we can move to once a week, that will be a huge step in the right direction

Preaching and Preparation
I’ve been preaching more and more the last couple months. Right now I’m pretty close to every week. Most of the sermons have been reruns, or last-minute throw together jobs. They were not my best were, or if they were, they were my best work from 2-5 years ago.

But last week was the first week that I had “normal” preparation for my sermon. Look at the text early in the week, read patristic and Luther sermons, see if there’s anything worthwhile that’s modern, and then write it down early enough in the week so I have time to edit it. Something like that. This happened last week. I don’t really even know why, it just did. So my Sermon on Sunday was much more relaxed, more “normal” for me. The congregation probably couldn’t tell the difference, but I could. It was a good sign.

Here are some questions for you:
1) What have you found the most difficult thing to come back to doing?
2) What made or is making it the most difficult?
3) What has been the easiest part of your life to return to “normal” and why?
4) What will never be the same?

Food for thought,
-DMR

children, family, stimulation

The Din (Children and Depression)

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In my process of healing, I have reached the point where church things generally are coming easier. Thank God. It’s been a long road. I can handle being around my parishioners again, greeting people, even teaching bible class and preaching (although not weekly). This is all good, and a sign from all of you pastors, etc., who fear things can never change. They can, and with God’s mercy, they will. Don’t lose hope.

But this is my cross right now. I (and my therapist) call it “The Din”. My wife and I have several children under ten years old in our household. I love them all deeply, as well as my wife.

The problem is that being around then for any length of time is the hardest thing I do.

How can this be? How can it be that the very ones whom I love the most (other than my wife) are the very ones that are the barrier and roadblock in my recovery?

Well, this is how I think it works. The biggest thing for me right now is stimulation and energy. The more stimulation I have (noise particularly), the more my energy is sapped, and the more, uh, zombie-like I become. It used to be that any interaction with anyone would do this. Even a conversation in a car could lay me flat for hours. But now it has focused down to my children.

I’m not very happy about this. I love my children, and if I had my way, I would be able to “handle” them before anything else. But I am not in control, so things don’t work the way I want them to work. (This should not come as a surprise to anyone.)

It’ll take time, I know. It will come, I hope and expect. But it will not be according to my calendar.

What’s the lesson in all of this? I’m glad you asked:

  • You are not alone. Even if your children (or whomever) don’t understand what’s going on, they still love you and want you to get better. Sometimes we must give up what we love the most in order to receive later on. (That’s probably in the Bible somewhere.) Furthermore, there are pastors and others who suffer with you, even if you don’t know them. Trust me on that one.
  • The mind is not always predictable. Some things are going to be more difficult for one over another. In my case it’s my children. In someone else’s case it may be greeting after church, eating in restaurants, or dealing with class. This is not a judgment of any sort on how much you love your family, church, Panera, or whatever. It is the reality of this illness we call depression.
  • God is merciful. Along the way, for everything you can’t do, there will be two more you can. It comes. Medication, therapy, prayer, the support of a good pastor, your spouse and family, all of these things contribute. God has given us these things for our benefit, and He will use them as He sees fit to bring about healing and hope.

Be well, my friends.

In Christ,
-DMR

family

The Love of a Woman

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I am blessed beyond measure to be married to the greatest wife in the world. Okay, I’m obviously bias, but it is the love of a woman that has kept my grip on reality, stayed with me through thick and thin, virtually been a single mom during my darkest hours, and has shown patience and steadfastness when many would have left. She is a gift beyond price and a treasure I do not deserve.

As I look at my illness and ongoing recovery, this is one piece of the puzzle I have not blogged about. I don’t know. It’s almost too private even for an anonymous blog. But I believe a little introspection might be in order.

People who suffer from depression or other mental illnesses are what in our day we would call “high maintenence.” That may not even be strong enough. When you can’t move, can’t get out of bed or bother to eat, it requires help from others. Serious help. That help may come from lots of sources (doctors, counselors, pastors, friends, etc.), but the rubber really hits the road with the ones you live with every day.

For many (though not all) that will mean a spouse. I’m going to speak as a husband and a father, because that’s what I know best. Most households are a hodgepodge of shared responsibilities, bearing one another’s burdens, centered in Christ and in the family that He has created. This is good, right and salutary. In the “normal” phases of our marriage, that has been the case.

But when I have been on the dark road, she has often been alone. Family and friends don’t understand, and she has been left holding the bag on everything from breakfast to bills to mowing the lawn or whatever else there may be. I truly don’t know how single moms do it. Then on top of all of the household matters, there is our children and me.

I don’t write this to hold her up as the model wife or to demonstrate how God has blessed me. My point is that the pressure put on the family during a mental illness is staggering. Many families don’t survive. I can understand that, as tragic as it is.

But time and time again, I hear stories of the strength and faith that wives have shown to their husbands who are sick, even sick in the head. I am always in amazement and wonder that God gives such strength, and that we are taken care of day in and day out.

I don’t know how to thank her other than work on getting better. I don’t know how to recognize her. I want to throw her a parade, give her a gold medal or something spectacular. But right now all I can do is keep moving along, a day at a time, praying that God will grant me healing so that I can always be there for her as she has been there for me.

For those of you who suffer as I do, don’t forget those whom God has placed in your path. They are your lifeline and will give you strength when it seems impossible. For those of you whose husband is a pastor (or some other vocation) who suffers from depression and anxiety, I salute you. You are all my heroes.

Finally, to the love of my life (you know who you are), you are God’s greatest gift to me outside of His dear Son. Even if I don’t show it as I ought, it is always true. Te amo.

family

The Love of a Woman

1 Comment

I am blessed beyond measure to be married to the greatest wife in the world. Okay, I’m obviously bias, but it is the love of a woman that has kept my grip on reality, stayed with me through thick and thin, virtually been a single mom during my darkest hours, and has shown patience and steadfastness when many would have left. She is a gift beyond price and a treasure I do not deserve.

As I look at my illness and ongoing recovery, this is one piece of the puzzle I have not blogged about. I don’t know. It’s almost too private even for an anonymous blog. But I believe a little introspection might be in order.

People who suffer from depression or other mental illnesses are what in our day we would call “high maintenence.” That may not even be strong enough. When you can’t move, can’t get out of bed or bother to eat, it requires help from others. Serious help. That help may come from lots of sources (doctors, counselors, pastors, friends, etc.), but the rubber really hits the road with the ones you live with every day.

For many (though not all) that will mean a spouse. I’m going to speak as a husband and a father, because that’s what I know best. Most households are a hodgepodge of shared responsibilities, bearing one another’s burdens, centered in Christ and in the family that He has created. This is good, right and salutary. In the “normal” phases of our marriage, that has been the case.

But when I have been on the dark road, she has often been alone. Family and friends don’t understand, and she has been left holding the bag on everything from breakfast to bills to mowing the lawn or whatever else there may be. I truly don’t know how single moms do it. Then on top of all of the household matters, there is our children and me.

I don’t write this to hold her up as the model wife or to demonstrate how God has blessed me. My point is that the pressure put on the family during a mental illness is staggering. Many families don’t survive. I can understand that, as tragic as it is.

But time and time again, I hear stories of the strength and faith that wives have shown to their husbands who are sick, even sick in the head. I am always in amazement and wonder that God gives such strength, and that we are taken care of day in and day out.

I don’t know how to thank her other than work on getting better. I don’t know how to recognize her. I want to throw her a parade, give her a gold medal or something spectacular. But right now all I can do is keep moving along, a day at a time, praying that God will grant me healing so that I can always be there for her as she has been there for me.

For those of you who suffer as I do, don’t forget those whom God has placed in your path. They are your lifeline and will give you strength when it seems impossible. For those of you whose husband is a pastor (or some other vocation) who suffers from depression and anxiety, I salute you. You are all my heroes.

Finally, to the love of my life (you know who you are), you are God’s greatest gift to me outside of His dear Son. Even if I don’t show it as I ought, it is always true. Te amo.