Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Remembering the Good and Bad Times

 Remembering David today. He would have been 39. Hard to believe it's been over 10 years since his passing. Remembering his goofyness, his compassion for others even when he was in his deepest days of his mental illness and addictions. Remembering his hugs, his love of God's creation, and how much he taught me about people that are marganalized, (homeless, prisoner, addict....), by society. 

He was gregarious yet anxious about life. He loved adventure and was a bit of a daredevil yet was happy to also lay in a field and watch the stars at night. His favorite book of the Bible was Ecclesiastes. He was fun to be around when Mental illness or addictions weren't getting in the way.  He loved people but had difficulty showing it when he was struggling himself. He looked out for others even when he had little for himself. 

He had the strangest things that he'd ponder or say. One day he said, "If I wasn't real, I'd be real." What does that even mean? He often would say that he always thought his brain worked differently than others even when he was a little kid. Borderline Personality Disorder will do that to you. He was so hard on himself. He knew what to do or not do in life, but for various reasons BPD would gets its way more often then not in the end. Self-medication would follow. It was a vicious cycle that slowly became more BPD and less David. He also had an anxiety disorder and an addictive personality. 

Slowly watching your loved die from mental illness is a hard thing. Oh how you wish they would be one of those that goes into "remission" per say or are able to manage their diagnosis. It just wasn't in the cards for him. And just like when someone you love dies from some other illness that slowly takes everything from them over a very long period of time, there is a sense of relief. There's no more pain for them, and for David there's no more worry that he might harm himself or someone else while getting in a car and being under the influence or other things like that. 

I miss him immensely. One more hug, one more "I love you," one more of his shenanigans, one more seeing the wonder of nature through his eyes, one more time talking about the meaning of life in Ecclesiastes with him, one more seeing him take the last of the money he had and buying groceries for a neighbor, one more...

I will remember all of the good times but I'll also remember the bad times. Some of those bad times were his doing just like anyone that makes bad choices from time to time, but many were mental illness rearing its ugly head. The bad times taught me much about loving God and loving others, even more than the good times. And so, I'll remember all of it until I see him again.

Thursday, November 19, 2020

Is Loneliness your Friend or Your Friend's Friend?


I have much to be thankful for this year.  But as you and I approach Thanksgiving some of us may not feel or be all that thankful. The Pandemic, murder hornets, fires, hurricanes divisiveness around everything from racism, masks, police officers, politics, abortion, immigration, social media, and a long list of other things going on in the world today is good reason to feel this way. No matter how you voted or what you believe, this year has probably hit you hard. Sometimes, when we can’t see an end in sight, we get stuck in that “woe is me” place. Sometimes, or even often, we start getting into a bad but comfortable place of isolation. It takes effort and creativity to not stay in that place and frankly it’s hard at times.

In the beginning of this pandemic I was a trooper with creative ways to interact with others. But as time went on I got weary of it all. The summer gave a bit of a reprieve as we could at least hang out with others outside. But now the cold is coming again and I am dreading what the new normal is going to look like for the foreseeable future. While some of my friends and relatives are doing life as usual with few exceptions, I am not. It’s not that I’m afraid; it’s just I see it differently. So going into Thanksgiving is just another thing that we had to evaluate and decide what we were going to do.

Whether your Thanksgiving is going to be with you or several others, isolation may be a part of it, especially if it’s going to look and be different than in years past. So what are we to do to keep loneliness at bay whether this is a new thing or has been a part of our life for some time? Of course theirs the usual answers to this question like acknowledge it, pray, stay connected, etc. But what does that really look like? We can all get ideas off the internet and think of them ourselves too. The trick is doing them.

For me it has been helpful to keep in mind one word. A few years ago a friend of mine told me how she picked a word each year. Almost everything was filtered through that word. I took her word and made it my life word. This year it has been especially helpful. My word is intentional. When I’m not intentional I can get into that rut of sitting around doing things like binge watching a show or you fill in the blank. Granted sometimes we need a break. When I’m intentional I’ll stay on my schedule of reading my Bible, praying, sending encouraging notes to others, dropping off a small package at friends, calling them, sending them a package in the mail, sending a text, video chat, or other things that let them know they aren’t alone. I know it’s one word and you might be thinking that keeping it at the forefront every day isn’t really going to do much and maybe it won’t. All I can say is that it has really helped me. It’s worth a shot at least.

My challenge to you whether you’re not lonely, you’ve been feeling lonely for years, or if this is a relatively new thing is to be intentional about letting others know they’re not alone.

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

When Empathy Grew

Isolation, Anxiety, Grief, Lonliness, Fatigue, and Sadness are all words common to someone living with chronic depression day in and day out. Thankfully I don't live with chronic depression but I've had my fair share of living with situational depression. Even then I don't have to deal with chronic depression to try and keep it in-check every day. I don't need meds for it and only need to seek wise counsel from a professional on an occasional basis. 

The year 2020 has brought a new level of understanding to many people of what living with depression can be like. Sometimes we feed the depression and sometimes it just takes over and we can't control it. Depression is this big cloud over everything. 
The nice thing for us is we will break free over time and the cloud will dissipate but for those that have to deal with it all the time it's way more complicated. 

They can have a marked level of stability but it's always lurking there ready to pounce when something in life throws a curve ball or randomly for no apparent reason at all. Depression is like that. 
They can become isolated because they can't bring themselves to get out and do things. Depression is like that.
They'll have anxiety about random things that really don't seem to be a big deal to others. Depression is like that.
They grieve lost dreams and missed events along with what seem to be unattainable goals. Depression is like that.
Lonliness can sometimes be their constant friend. Depression is like that.
They get fatigued even when they don't appear to be doing anything. Depression is like that.
And sadness may be an everyday term for them. Depression is like that.

Hopefully whatever you've tasted of depression this year will help you be more understanding and empathetic to those that live with this year round. And just maybe you and I will see the strentgh they have to live each day. 

Wednesday, March 27, 2019

When God's Answers Hurt

As a friend or family member of someone struggling with mental illness, prayers for healing are uttered time and time again. They come from a place of love, desperation, hope, and trust. Without the work of the Great Physician, your loved one doesn’t stand a chance against the brokenness they battle each day.

“God, heal his mind and body.”
“Heavenly Father, bring him peace.”
“Lord, release him from this pain.”

I have personally prayed these words for my brother. His life became a struggle: fighting against addiction, loosing pieces of himself to mental illness, and hurting others in the process. I wanted nothing more than to have my brother back and to see him in a state of rest, instead of conflict (both internal and external).

But when we pray, what do we expect from God? What does healing, peace, and release from pain look like? Revelation 21 says that God will “wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

My brother’s battle with addiction ended up taking his life and I felt like my cries to God for healing went unanswered. Sadness led to bitterness and bitterness led to anger. I had more questions than answers and my questions turned into accusations. Why would God choose to let him suffer? Why would God choose to take my brother from me? I trusted fully that God could have healed him in an instant, but in that time, I did not trust in His goodness.

“Why didn’t you heal him?” I asked, from the depths of my aching heart. I felt so clearly God answer me, “I did.” Those two simple words shook me. I wanted my brother back, but He wanted my brother to be whole. My prayer for healing was not answered in the way I expected. God’s word tells us in 1 Corinthians 15, “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel… It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.”

Though I still long for my brother to be here, to be healed in this life, I can now trust in God’s goodness as well as His power to heal. I continue to pray for the healing of those afflicted around me, and I know that God can heal them if He chooses, but I pray knowing that their healing may not come in this life. So I also pray for strength to endure, for hearts to be turned to Christ, and for God’s will to be done.

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God."
Romans 8:26-27 ESV
Guest Blog by: Amanda Combs

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Our Crooked Tree Of Life

Tom and Barb’s Christmas tree was awesome!

It stood a full fourteen feet tall under the cathedral ceiling, the perfectly-shaped body donning a thousand white lights that glowed with a subtle bluish hue like that of a crescent moon on a clear winter’s night.  Ornaments from odd parts of Europe and generations long passed filled the spaces between the strings of lights and hung from the branches even deep inside where the lights didn’t dare to go.  A sparse amount of expertly-placed tinsel and just a few candy canes complemented the more striking hand-made glass ornaments.

As a Christmas tree, stunning, glorious, Hollywood-perfect!

As a metaphor for life, so desirable, representing a blessed journey.

But, at least for me and Ann, unrealistic and unattainable.  So, too, for many others raising special needs kids or caring for a mentally-ill loved one.

Our Christmas tree is much different.  Always has been.  Still blessed, but different.

For over thirty years, one of our six kids picked out our Christmas tree.  As a family, we would pile into the minivan after lunch on Black Friday and drive to one of the county’s few tree farms to cut down our perfect tree.

Some years the tree was tall and full.  In other years, it was skinny with a lot of space between its branches.  Rachel would often choose a “Dr. Seuss” tree, and David always picked one that wouldn’t fit in our living room.  One year, we harvested a ‘Hershey’s Kiss’ tree!  And since Ann did most of the decorating, she made sure it wasn’t a “pokey” blue sprucewhite pines or Douglas firs are her favorites.

This year, the last four of us still at home went and found the ‘perfect’ tree.  Ann decorated it within a couple days, using far fewer lights and ornaments than in years past, making sure the prominent bare spot faced the window.

Soon after, I turned off all the lights in the living room except for the ones on the Christmas tree, and invited Ann to come snuggle with me on the couch.  We sat in the dark for quite a while appreciating the glow of the tree, the quiet of the house, and the warmth of each other’s company.

Then Ann spoke six simple words that I know came from deep within her heart and reflected what she really thought of the more than forty years of life we’ve spent together.

She said: “That tree's like our life.  Crooked.”

I didn't say anything.  Didn’t need to.  I knew exactly what she meant.  I just squeezed her hand, then pulled her a little bit closer.

Yes, crooked.  Not picture-perfect as some have and many wish, but curving here and there as it stretched from floor to ceiling.  Not necessarily ‘bad’, but definitely ‘crooked’...

Like our faith.  Rooted deep in our parents’ religion, then choosing one that we believe God called us to live out.

Like our parents.  Shining examples of love and decades-long commitment, but two passing much too early.

Like our marriage.  Strong and bright and full, yet dark in spots.  Often the highest of joys and closeness, but also the lowest of pain and strife, especially when mental illness showed its ugly face.

Like our family.  Five pre-borns forever absent from around our table.  Our oldest now with Jesus after losing his fight with mental illness.

Like our friendships.  Some deep and long-lasting, while others, including those we cherish, faded as life sent us down different paths.

Like our health.  Nearly sixty-year-old bodies forever bent under the weight of life and love and work and sacrifice.

Like our finances.  Sparse here and there, but never barren.  Not a full storehouse, but always provisions for today.

Like our calling.  From investing in the lives of our kids as they grew into their own, to ministering to others who, too, decorate a crooked tree.

Crooked.  And thin.  And bare in places.  And lit with just a few lights.

But uniquely ours, adorned with ornaments that represent our special life…
A pink and red candy cane built with a child’s plastic craft pieces.
A tiny birdhouse from the workshop of the world’s greatest woodworker.
Berry-laden mistletoe, made from the plaster casting of a grandchild’s small feet.
One hand-sewn, three-inch square red pillow given to our oldest on his first Christmas Eve.
Five miniature figurines—one for each child who never shared the fun of decorating.
An unusual, dark blue Dr. Seuss-y star hanging off the side near the top.  Just because.

We wonder at, celebrate, and give thanks for our Crooked Tree Of Life.

You owe it to yourself to do the same.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

That Four Letter Word

"When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, the results are very clear: sexual immorality, impurity, lustful pleasures, idolatry, ...dissension, division, ENVY, drunkenness, wild parties, and other sins like these."  Gal. 5:19-21a NLT

"Those who belong to Christ Jesus have nailed the passions and desires of their sinful nature to his cross and crucified them there.  Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit's leading in every part of our lives."  Gal. 5: 24 NLT

Boy, do theses verses really smack me in the face. With Christmas just around the corner, I find myself slipping into my flesh and losing my focus on my Lord. It's not like I'm going to keep Christ out of Christmas or give into drunkenness or go to wild parties, which another version calls orgies. But that four letter word, "envy", comes creeping in.

After all, we all know when you have a loved one with a severe or sometimes even not so severe mental health concern that your family isn't "normal". I’d sometimes get sick of making special accomodations for my family member or missing a party because it was too difficult for him, her, or someone else in the family to be there. I didn't want to hear it again, "Just make them come". Don't get me wrong.  Sometimes I had to "make them come." But other times, it's a bad idea to force a situation on my family.  It even gets harder when they’re in the throws of a psychological episode that coincides with a holiday and out of touch with reality for a time. I longed for "normal" or even some semblance of "normal".

When I think of one particular Christmas several years ago, while one of my son's was living at a halfway house, I remember making cookies for the guys and how some of them didn't have anywhere to go for Christmas. My not so normal Christmas was looking pretty good from their perspective. I was fretting over not seeing all of my kids at the same time while they were not seeing anyone. I always get myself into trouble when I play the comparison game with those that I think have a happy, well adjusted, Christmas card kind of family. I focus on those that have what looks like the "perfect" family. So while I'm focusing on them, I can't focus on God and there in is the problem.  

Then, I read that last verse about how, if I belong to Christ Jesus, I've nailed this sin to the cross. Whenever I am letting envy get even the tiniest foothold I am blocking the Holy Spirit from leading that part of my life. Can I say, OUCH? Over the past few years I’ve gotten better at not focusing on envy and keeping my focus on what this holiday season is all about. I know I’ve got a ways to go, but when I let go of those pie in the sky unrealistic dreams of my perfect family and let the Spirit lead me my Thanksgiving, Christmas, and every other day, it’s so much better. I’m sure it will be better for you too. We all just need to stop trying to lead our lives and let the Holy Spirit lead us. Then Envy has no power.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

We’re all mentally ill

That’s my theory, anyway.  Before you say I’m crazy, read this whole post, then tell me what you think.  Am I right, am I wrong, or might I be on to something regardless?

So, what makes me think that we’re all mentally ill?  The combination of a few things.

First, facts about people:
We’re comprised of at least two components: physical and mental.
As we age, these components change—our bodies and minds morph.
Everyone’s flawed.  We each have stains, blemishes, quirks, and anomalies.  (Since we’re each ‘physically’ flawed, why would we ever think we’re not also ‘mentally’ flawed?)
Some imperfections vary over time.  Some eventually get worse, much worse.

Next, facts about diseases:
Some diseases lie dormant for years before their symptoms appear.  (We may have the illness, but not exhibit any symptoms.)
Some diseases can’t be diagnosed until after their symptoms flare up.  (Being symptom-free doesn’t mean we don’t have the illness.)
Each disease affects each person differently—some to a small degree, others more significantly.
The affects or symptoms of a disease don’t jump from “none” to “maximum” in a fraction of a second.  They progress from one degree to another over time—maybe weeks, maybe months, even years, but almost never instantaneously.

Finally, facts about me and some of my kids:
I haven’t been diagnosed with a mental illness nor been told by anyone that they think I have one.
Professionals have diagnosed many of my kids with at least one mental illness.
I demonstrate many of the same behaviors some of my diagnosed kids do, but often to a much lesser degree.

When I look in the mirror, when I consider the above, I draw the conclusion that I have at least one mental illness, and probably three.  As of today, though, my symptoms haven’t risen to the level of needing professional help.  (Again, ‘as of today’.)

All this leads me to believe that I, a human—and, by extension, you, also a human—have a mental illness.  We might not yet see it, others might not discern it, and it might not ever rise to a professionally-diagnosable level.  Nonetheless, I’m willing to accept that I’m mentally ill.

And I’m okay with that.


Because I admire my kids and others who not only wrestle everyday with symptoms far beyond mine and far beyond what I can imagine, but also deal with society’s stares and statements, hand-delivered on ice-cold platters.

Because I know that if I differ only by degree and not by type from everyone who’s been diagnosed, I’m less likely to judge them, to avoid them, or demean them.

Because if “I’m not okay, you mustn’t be okay”, meaning it’s just possible that we could live in a much different world.

In the end, I might be wrong.  But, then again, what if I’m right?  Either way, imagine the kind of world this would be if we at least considered the prospect that we’re all mentally ill: A world without stigma around mental illness, without judgment or guilt or shame.

As someone who’s lived alongside mental illness for decades, I’d enjoy a world like that.

A note from the author…

I know some of you reading this are thinking “You don’t understand.  You don’t know what the mentally ill deal with!  You demean everyone who has a mental illness when you refer to yourself as if you were one of them.”

I’m sorry you feel that way, that’s not what I’m saying, but that’s exactly my point.  As long as we focus on our differences, as long as we view ‘them’ as a diseased version of ‘us’, this all continues: judgment and guilt and pity and shame and ignorance and disbelief and stigma.

But if we saw and heard and treated people who display symptoms of mental illness as no different than us in nature and in worth—and if we viewed ourselves as people fortunate to not be as affected as they are—we could maybe, just maybe begin to empathize, to inquire, to discover, to learn, to soften, to love, and to advocate.

In a nutshell, this is what I’m saying: We as a society need to do these things to have even a hope of creating a world full of compassion and understanding, full of respect and support, full of grace and mercy and love.

And I do hope we create that kind of world, because the current one’s not really helping those who many call "the mentally ill".