Tuesday, May 28, 2013

The Search for Change

Because we are the Body of the Wounded Healer and we are the people who believe the impossible— that wounds can be openings to the beauty in us.  We’re the people who say: there’s no shame saying that your heart and head are broken because there’s a Doctor in the house. It’s the wisest and the bravest who cry for help when lost.  There’s no stigma in saying you’re sick because there’s a wounded Healer who uses nails to buy freedom and crosses to resurrect hope and medicine to make miracles.  There’s no guilt in mental illness because depression is a kind of cancer that attacks the mind. You don’t shame cancer, you treat cancer. You don’t treat those with hurting insides as less than. You get them the most treatment.-Ann Voskamp


May is Mental Health Awareness Month.   Can I get WOO HOO?  Yea, not so much, right?   Who wants to bring to attention those ugly things that attack our minds?   Too often we turn away from people, and sometimes even ourselves, who are plagued with mental illness.  We would never say to a man with a broken leg, "Hey, you.  I want you to run" and then criticize him because he didn't  run fast enough, balanced enough, or well enough.  And yet we say to others whose minds are just as broken, "Hey, don't feel that way" or "just count your blessings" or worse yet "You are a Christian, you're not supposed to be this way."    Oh, I think we mean well, we just don't necessarily want to get our hands dirty.  I'm certainly not suggesting that everyone get involved in helping people who suffer with mental illness.   Not everyone is cut out for that.  What I am suggesting is that we, as a society, and especially as those who are believers in Christ, stop drawing our own conclusions and sitting in judgement of things we just don't understand.   And maybe extend a little grace and kindness to those who are suffering, rather than more blame and shame on them for a condition they can't control.

On my way home from a Dr. appointment, in utter frustration, I called my sister.  I cried and yelled and told her how it wasn't fair, how I didn't want to take medicine my whole life long because I couldn't control my mind.  I told her I don't mind taking medicine for my stomach, because that's physical, but this...this is because I'm crazy?!   Why can't I just be better, just make myself not go up and down like a yo-yo,  Just not have panic attacks,  just go places and live my life without this constant inner turmoil and struggle to live??   Everyone's going to see that I'm different.  They are going to say it's all my fault that I'm like this"   And She, being her, said "SO WHAT!  They don't know you, it doesn't matter what they think.  And just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not broken."    Yes.  She's right.    Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not broken.

Some days are hard and I wish I were anyone but me.  I wish I were strong and brave and free.  I down right wish myself away and pray for a better girl, a better wife, a better friend, and a better mother to come in and take my place.   I wrote this down one day when I was searching for change, desperate to rid myself of some of the yuck-that is me.   Instead, I found a grace large enough to cover all of who I am.   I believe in a God who heals, and I believe in a God who covers us with grace while He does the healing in His time.  And in the meantime...His grace is sufficient for me and His strength is made perfect in my weakness, so I'm going to fly my freak flag high and proud about my weakness, because it's then that His power rests on me. (2 Corinthians 12:9-paraphrased-pretty sure 'flying my freak flag' isn't in any version...yet).  Let us be aware of those who are buckling under the weight of a broken mind, and offer them the One who heals our wounds with His own. 

The Search for Change

I went and stood outside in the sun
Hoping to quench the darkness
Hoping its rays would warm the chill
I stood there awhile
But the darkness was too deep
The chill was too cold
I stood in the sun unchanged

I went and stood outside in the wind
Hoping to rid myself of the gnawing guilt
Hoping its gale would blow away my failings
I stood there awhile
But the guilt was too heavy
My failings too many
I stood in the wind unchanged

I went and stood outside in the rain
Hoping to drowned  the shame
Hoping the downpour would wash away who I am
I stood there awhile
But the torrent wasn't enough to loosen the grip
Shame had attached itself too tightly
I stood in the rain unchanged

I went and stood under a tree on a hill
Hoping it would illuminate the darkness
Hoping it would take away the guilt and shame
I stood there awhile
Grace poured down and saturated the darkness, guilt and shame
Grace that was brighter, stronger and heavier than all I had become
I stood at the cross forever changed.

Thanks for reading.

6 comments:

  1. Great post! I am so glad that we all have that grace available to cover the "weaknesses" in us all! May God bless you! ~Jennifer Bartley

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  2. "Broken"?

    Do you truly consider yourself "broken"?

    Cousin, I disagree.

    "Flawed" fits...it fits 100% of the happy-crappy which we call the human race. Whether you think in politically correct terms, or just look at things in a realistic light, we're all "flawed".

    Ah, Kimba, I find myself in the exact circumstance you described, and I find myself there frequently. "...some of the yuck that is me" is pretty apropos, and very descriptive. Can I get an "Amen" for things like "self-loathing" and "fear of the future"...? All too often I feel like, despite my best efforts, I'll never be the husband my wife wants me to be, nor the son my mom deserves.

    But you know what, sweet lady? That's just one side of the coin that we call Life in the Big City. I've learned that there are also days where life is like a big cocaine high (yes, Kim, I spent many years embedded in that particular milieu, so I know what it means to be manically high and then come down to the Post-Coke Blues in about 12.7 minutes) - - you're On Top Of The World, feeling pretty smug about things, pretty much King Poop of Turd Mountain.

    The trick, I'm finding out, is to last through the lows to reach the highs...and for myself, to do it without chemical enhancements (re the old cocaine days) or other crutches that always seem to, ultimately, let me down.

    I do it without drugs of any kind...I do it without philosophies like Zen or yoga or tantric meditation, no 12-step programs or ANYthing else.

    Suicide? Been pretty close (ask me sometime about the night I stood on a cliff overlooking the vast Pacific and pondered jumping)...and for someone who keeps many firearms close at hand, suicide is readily available.

    But think about something: Look at your father (your earthly father, my Uncle John). He's pretty much the closest genetic link I have, other than my own Pop, whom I have little resemblance to.
    Look at John Jones. He's a tough old bird, a stubborn hickerbilly of the first water, a man who's temperamentally opposed to admitting defeat from something as fleeting as a Life Problem.

    He's my MAN. When I feel like life is dealing me lemons, I look at him - bald since earliest youth, poorer than the church mouse's impoverished cousin, slightly built, a target of all the jokes and malice the world has to dish out.....and yet, tough, stubborn, a man who has risen above everything life has thrown at him (and quite a few tribulations he has brought upon himself), survived heart disease, two cancers, and a plethora of other afflictions - - and he does it with more grace than I can muster on my best day.

    And THAT, dear heart, is YOUR legacy as well. He's YOUR Pop.

    Oh, I know it might seem like I'm trivializing your plight; please don't think that, not at all. And I'm not trying to tell you "Cheer up, it'll get better!" or any of the other inanities you mentioned earlier. I'm simply pointing out that A, he's been quite an inspiration to me, B, I consider myself fortunate to share chromosomes with him, and C, you are even closer to him genetically than I am.

    I'm grateful that you have the sense to talk to your doctor about your panics, your anxieties and your problems, and I'm glad the medications he prescribes for you are effective. "If It Works, Don't Fix It".

    But I'm also glad you have the comfort of your faith to help you through the gaps where Modern Medicine can let you down. Faith, the evidence of things not seen, faith that can move mountains, Faith that keeps my cousin in the Hollow of His Hand.

    Love you, Kim.

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  3. Wow, cuz. You DA MAN!! ;) I love your style, your honesty and your grit. Thank you SO much for sharing your kind words of encouragement with me. It means more to me than I could describe. I'm Staying in that mountain moving faith day by day. Love you, Wayne. <3

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  4. I love you blog Kimmy! It is so articulate and well thought out. I feel the same way sometimes, depression sometimes gets the better of me, and I wonder if I am supposed to give up the medication and trust God's grace to heal me. Sometimes that is what I am told/read, other times it is like "wait a minute", I'm not turning my back on God or my faith in him because I take pills, so stop trying to make me feel that way. I do wonder why more and more of our society seems to be plagued with mental health issues. I know some of it is a change in our mindset which makes it more acceptable to talk about, but I also wonder how many people are being medicated when talking with someone or turning to God would do. God does not guarantee a problem free life, only a life in which he walks with us and allows us to lean on his or simply ask him to carry us. Yes it is a form of suffering to deal with mental illness but for those of us lucky enough to be able to function and live with the help of therapy and medication, think how much more we are sensitive to others and their challenges. How much more acutely aware are you of the feeling, challenges and frustration the residents you work with who are facing dementia etc. You are more tender, compassionate and empathetic, and they are the beneficiaries of your struggle. They are on the receiving end of the grace that gets you through the day. Keep on keepin' on. We don't talk much, but I think about you often.

    Pam James (pammy)

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    1. Thank you, Pammy, for your perspective. I'm feelin' ya for sure on the points you've made. And It's SO good to hear from you. I think about you lots too, especially when I hear Mrs. Robinson. ;) Thanks for stopping by and commenting. Blessings to you, Pammy.

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