On this depression…

I have depression. 

For years I have only talked to family and close friends about my depression.  For the most part, I keep my depression private.  However, within the last few days someone I love has been hit with depression.  So now – I am out.  I plan on staying out.

My depression hit when I was in 8^th grade.  My mother found me hiding underneath a counter in our bathroom.  I still do not know why, but I could not move.  My mother had to coax me out.  Two weeks later, I was seeing a counselor for major depression.  I had a good home life.  No one had hurt me.  I had depression.  In 8^th grade, I began taking anti-depressants.  It was hard on my family.

When I was a freshman in college, I tried to kill myself.  I swallowed a bunch of pills with a bottle of vodka.  My friend (thanks Shane) found me and carried me to the hospital.  Because I tried to kill myself I had to spend three days in a mental hospital where I received a TON of medicine and a TON of therapy.  I tried to kill myself because I felt alone and like I had no support.  My father called me crying and asked me, “Stephanie, can you please never do this again?”  My suicide attempt hit my father the hardest.

Two years ago depression hit me again.  I was in a rough marriage and again felt alone.  One day I sat on my bathroom floor and cut my legs again and again until the blood ran over the bathroom floor.  I decided to see a counselor.  I started taking medicine again.  This is the first time I have ever admitted to cutting.

Depression is like alcoholism.  It is real.  It is hard.  And when it hits – it hits hard.  I, most likely, have a chemical imbalance.  Due to that imbalance, if I do not monitor how I am doing I am susceptible to bouts of depression.

However, I am still alive.  Frankly, there is no reason I should still be here today.  I should have died my freshman year of college.  But by the grace of God – and because of the love of family and friends – I am here today.

So what do I do?  What do I do to live with this?

First, I admit that this is a problem for me.  If an eighth grader has depression but has a good home life – odds are they are not a miserable sinner being punishing by Satan. Thinking that mental illness is caused only by sin is STUPID, and does nothing to address the problem.  My depression is difficult, but it is not more than me.  It is a part of me, but it is not all of me.  I am bigger than this. 

Second, I accept help.  I see a counselor if I need to.  I take medicine if I have to (by God’s grace I have been off medicine for over a year!!!).  I let my friends (thanks Bri) or family (thanks Mom) call me every day if I need it.

Third, I understand that I cannot do this alone.  I talk to God.  I talk to friends.  I talk to family.  I have a great group of people who are here for me.  It is really hard sometimes, but when I need help – I have learned to ask.

I hope for two things when it comes to depression.

First, I hope that people stop being such judgmental jerk faces about it.  Less than a month ago I heard a co-worker bash counseling and say that going to a counselor makes you “Weak.”  That mentality, in my opinion, is what pushes people toward suicide.  Depression is real.  It is a problem.  People need to see that.

Second, I hope that people can find ways to live with depression as I have.  It is manageable.  People will help.  God is there and will always be there.  Depression is big, but it does not have to be bigger than any person. 

If you have been judging people with depression – stop.  Depression is real.  And people with depression often feel alone.

If you have depression – stop.  Find help.  Depression is real.  And you do not have to do this alone.

Thanks to all of my family and friends who have been with me over the years.  And of course, thanks to God.  For grace.  For life.  For second chances.

On quitting…

I am a lot of different things to a lot of different people.  Some of those things are good – like daughter, kind, smart.  Some of those things are less good – like sarcastic, cold to strangers, and I have no tolerance for stupid people.

The one thing that I can tell myself that I am not – is a quitter.  In my life, I can think of three things that I quit or walked out on.  I quit taking piano lessons when I was in eighth grade.  I quit a marriage that was killing me.  I quit a job that I was not satisfied with.  Otherwise, everything else I have said I would do – I have done.  I cannot say that I have started a task and left it unfinished.  The vast majority of the time, if I say I will do something - I will do it.  If I do not say I will do something – it means I have no interest and will not do it.

When I was young someone once promised something big to me – a trip.  That person promised me that they would take me to Six Flags.  They promised not once, but three times.  That trip never happened.  Through this I learned the pain of making promises and not keeping them.

When I was sixteen I went to Australia.  Before I left all of my friends said they would write and send letters.  I wrote hundreds (yes hundreds) of postcards to my friends and family.  Besides my parents, only one friend stayed in contact with me (thanks Shane - a friend who has always been there).  Through this I again learned the pain of making promises and not keeping them.  However, I also learned a valuable life lesson…. Find friends that love you – and value them – treasure them – respect them.  And above all else – your family will be there when everyone else is gone.

The people that make it through life are not the smartest people.  They are not the richest people.  They are not the people with houses or cars.  They are not the people that have found their security in temporary things.  They are the people that have endurance.  These people have endurance because they have built their security on solid ground.  The people that make it without faltering do so because they have security in an unmoving permanent structure.  To me, that structure is God. 

Life moves up and down.  It goes through hills and valleys and rivers and canyons.  Things can be amazing one minute and terrible the next.  This does not mean we are hated.  This is simply the way life will go, because life is constantly moving. 

Two days ago I woke up and was happy.  Four hours later, I was crushed by life.  It isn’t the first time this has happened.  It will not be the last.  However, I will not quit.  I will not give up.  I will endure because I am grounded in a secure force.  To quit would be to give in to temporary pain.  To quit would be to go back on promises I have made.  To quit would be to abandon people that have stuck around when everyone else walked out.  To quit would be to not endure.  I will not quit.  And but for the grace of God go I… into whatever comes next.

On Blue Like Jazz...

My fiance calls my debate and speaking style “laser-like.” I am not much for rambling, and I am quickly annoyed by people that blabber on unnecessarily.  However, for whatever reason, I saw a movie this past week-end and my mind cannot form one concise thought or argument on how the movie impacted me.  Thus, I shall do the unthinkable, and attempt to ramble.

Blue Like Jazz.  A tiny movie about a Texas boy with divorced parents who was active in a Baptist church.  After the boy discovers that his mother is having an affair with the church youth pastor, he abandons his plan to attend a Christian college and opts instead for a crazy hippy liberal college on the West coast.  While there, he questions his faith, doubts his beliefs, throws down God and Christ and everything Christian.  By the end, of course, he somehow manages to balance the bad things Christians have done to him and the people he loves with his love of God.  Yes, it is a feel good movie.

SPOILER ALERT

At the end of the movie, the boy apologizes.  He apologizes to his friend who was raped by a priest.  He apologies to everyone who has ever been hurt by a Christian in the name of their God.  For whatever reason, I want to do that too.

If for some reason, a Christian has hurt you – I apologize.  I apologize if you have been raped, or hurt, or beaten down or degraded or made to feel less than.  I apologize for the churches you have attended that have told you God will not love you because you are X or Y or Z or have done A or B or C.  I apologize for the kids that picked on you when you just wanted to be left alone.  I apologize for the priest or pastor that told you that you could not be a priest or pastor.  I apologize for the pain, the hurt, the grief, the agony.  I apologize for all of that.   It is ignorant to think that I have never caused anyone pain – so I apologize for myself.  I have messed up a lot.  I have hurt people.  For that, I am sorry.

Not too long ago, I lost all of my faith.  For a long list of reasons, I lost all hope I ever had in God or Christ.  I cursed everything religious and any person who practiced a religion.  I thought they were dumb, naïve, stupid and condescending.  I hated God.  I hated Jesus.  Most of all – I hated everyone who called themselves a Christian, but actively practiced hate (yes, I see that irony now).

One day I woke up, and everything I loved felt like it was gone.  On that day, I felt like I had no friends, no family, no job, no education – and no God.  My options, frankly, were suicide or to find everything I thought I had lost.  Obviously, I did not choose the former.  Instead, I walked into a Lutheran church in a Polish part of Milwaukee.  I don’t know why (grace, most likely), but that day – everything started coming back to me.  An old man who was greeting in the church said hello to me.  He invited me to coffee after the service.  I did not stay.  I came.  I attended service.  I left. 

I left, and then… I started going back to church.  However, I did something different this time.  I hated going to church growing up.  I thought it was boring, dumb and I remember leaving feeling like I loathed myself.  Ick.  So instead, I came back on my own terms.  I went to dozens of churches and dozens of denominations.  I listened to some Catholics, a Unitarian, a few Lutherans, a crazy Charismatic guy – and a TON of other people.  I did what very few seem to do… I was lost, and I searched until I felt found.

Along the way, I realized what I think the main character in the movie realized. I realized that God does not hurt people and that religion does not hurt people.  I realized – that people hurt people.  Some of those people call themselves Christians or call themselves Muslims or Atheist or…..  At a Christian place where I use to work I once had a lady tell me, “We are all Christian here, but we are all humans first.” 

That is the simple truth of the movie.  We are all human first.  And, frankly, some humans REALLY suck.  They hurt a lot of people.  And I am not sure if there is anything worse than someone saying “It is okay I am hurting you because God said so.”  People do that so they do not have to take accountability for their own actions.  People do that so they can give themselves more power to be hateful and cruel.

For what do I hope? 

I hope for honest and respectful discourse about the insanely diverse beliefs that we all have about God.  Or about a lack of God, or the existence of multiple gods,  and everything in between.  I have had dozens of conversations with people regarding their religious beliefs – and not one person shared all the beliefs of another.

I hope that people admit that they are humans first.  We mess up.  We are not perfect.  I know of a college professor who tells he students that he has not sinned in years.  Pft, yeah right dude!  Giving off the impression you are perfect does not make me envy you, it makes me feel inferior to you and thus fear you.  We question God, we question the world, we question people, we questions our faith, we question lots of things.  It is human to think.  It is human to err.

I hope we can forgive.  Confession time.  I was once soooo bitter about things that had happened to me that when I would say the Lord’s prayer I would say “And forgive us our trespasses” but would leave out the “as we forgive those that trespass against us.”  That is right, I was asking people to forgive me but doing nothing to forgive others - not my best moment.  I cannot say I have forgiven everything in the world and should be a keynote speaker at a forgiveness convention (for that - call my fiance - dude is a pro!).  I can say that I have learned to forgive and move along. I can say that it always gets better.

I hope that we can just get better.  Starting… right…….now.

On the measure of a man…

About a week ago at 5:30am my boyfriend texted me from Alaska saying “I just cut down a tree!”  My boyfriend and I texted a bit more about the size of the tree, the type of tree, and how the tree deserved to be cut down (you know, for swaying and stuff).  Eventually he texted me something like, “I feel so manly” to which I responded “I am proud of you, but tree or not, I have always thought of you as manly.”

This line of texting got me thinking… how do you measure a ‘man’?

By cultural stereotype, real men do things like… degrade women, shoot at stuff, swear, drink, use chain saws, drive something loud, and beat up stuff.  Wow, that sounds awesome….

My father, by many stereotypical measures (not the ones I just listed), is incredibly masculine.  Over Easter we shot clay pigeons with 12 gauge shot guns.  After we finished shooting we put the three shot guns back in the gun cabinet – which my dad built.  We then proceeded to sip beer and watch a war movie on my dad’s big screen tv, while discussing the hour long shooting venture that just occurred.  I have seen my father cry three times – all three from incredibly tragic events.  My father is a caricature to many of my friends.  “Oh Steve…” my friends say, as they watch my father drive his F-250 while blaring country music and driving down the highway going 80 to a hunting lesson for his loyal red Labrador passenger. 

When it comes to being manly, I have never heard by father say anything about his actions being tough or masculine.  I have never heard my father say “I shoot guns and hunt because that is what men do.” When it comes to what is not manly, I have never heard my father tear down another man for doing something society deems “feminine.”  While I have heard other fathers call men “pussies” or “fags” for piercing their ears or wearing capri pants, I have never heard my dad use derogatory language about the actions of another man.

On the measure of a man, my father has only told me there are two things that make someone ‘manly’.

At one point, my father was discussing a guy he knew who was treating his wife poorly – for no apparent reason other than selfishness.  My father did not degrade the man or tear him down.  The only words my father said were, “Some men do not understand that real men take care of their business.”  Point taken.

At another point, my father lost a business he built from the ground up in a terrible series of events.  Asking my father about how he was feeling his only words were, “The real measure of a man is not whether he falls, but how many times he is knocked down and gets back up.”  Point taken.  Single tear begins rolling down cheek….

My boyfriend does not shoot guns – although he can.  My boyfriend does not drive a big truck – although I am sure he could if he felt like it.  And, come on, cutting down a tree in the Alaskan wilderness with a hatchet is TOTALLY awesome.  But I have always thought of my boyfriend as manly.  To me, my boyfriend is manly because he takes care of his business and he gets back up when he is knocked down. 

However, when I think even more about my father’s measures – I am not sure they are exclusive to males.  To me, the best people – he, she, ze, his, her, zim - are the people that take of their business and the people that get back up when knocked down. 

In a world of possession, making sure we are responsible and take care of things can feel like a huge task.  Life can throw challenges at us where we respond by feeling bogged down, tired, beaten, discouraged, depressed, heartbroken, and every other cruddy emotion in the world.  What will matter is not the car we drive, the stuff we shoot, or the trees we cut down.  What will matter are the people we take care of along the way, and our ability to endure the challenges we encounter.  Those two things – to me – are how you measure a man.  Well, I should say, those two things – to me – are how you measure a person.

On gold...

I have tried to write this several times without being too sappy or trite – because sappy and trite are things of which I am fond.  However, it could not be done.  With that warning, here goes.

On Gold…

The first time I met “Mary” she was less than two months away from her death.  She was nearly catatonic, and the only words she would ever speak were “Oh come let us adore him.”  Mary’s skin was paper thin, and I could every blue vein in her tiny body.  She had these huge shiny brown eyes – where – when you looked into them – you felt a sense of kindness you never knew existed.  On her left hand she wore tiny gold band had left a permanent mark on her forth finger.  When I walked in the room to meet Mary, everything felt different.  The sun was setting and as it sank in the sky it came through the windows and lit up Mary’s hair – making the gray strands appear golden.  Mary was – the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.  Every patient and nurse at the hospice was drawn to Mary despite the fact that she could barely move or speak. 

I have heard stories about gold since I was a young whippersnapper (yeah, I know I still am).  I remember hearing that gold was the most precious of all metals.  It is so precious it was gifted to Christ, thought of as God poop by the Aztecs, and is traded in tons every day around the world.  For hundreds of years, gold is a thing for which people have sailed across oceans, killed women and children, starved nations and raped the earth.   

Beyond being a tangible metal, gold is also quite symbolic.  Several religions tell of beautiful things called auras.  In simple terms, aura is the energy that a person radiates. Some believe that auras can be so astounding that within moments of meeting a person, you can tell whether his/her energy is bad (and you want to run away) or good (and you feel drawn in).  The most sacred (and rare) of all auras is the golden aura.  The golden aura is symbolic of wisdom, intuition, divine protection – and – enlightenment.

Moving away from metals and auras and back to Mary….  Since Mary could not speak, the first time I met Mary I decided to read to her.  The hospice has only two books on file – both of them by Helen Steiner Rice (cheesy rhyming wizard to the stars).  With one hand I held the book and flipped through the pages and with the other I grasped Mary’s thin flesh.  I read a few terrible rhyme schemes straight out of cruddy Hallmark cards before I landed upon another story about gold.  This one was titled, “The Windows of Gold.”

The story is about a little boy who lived on a mountain.  Shining off in the distance from the boy’s mountain home he sees gold.  The little boy admires the gold so much that he leaves his mountain town to find it.  The little boy walks and walks until he comes to a city.  In the city, he finds that what was shining was not gold – but the reflection of gold from the city in which he came.  The story ends on …. “Is not a far distant place, somewhere.  It's as close to you as a silent prayer.  And your search for God will end and begin.  When you look for Him and find Him within.”

At this point, I am reading to a dying woman - watching the gold radiate from her body.  So yes, I started crying. 

That is the thing about gold.  People spend years searching for it.  They give it to others, they think it is God poop, they kill for it, rape for it, search for it, do everything for it.  However, I saw gold.  I saw the most precious thing in the world.  And I did not find it by murdering women or children or digging through the mines of another country.  I found gold radiating from the aura of a dying woman.  It was so strong that it radiated from every pore, every cell and every gray hair on her withering body.

Mary will forever be one of the most amazing people I have ever met.  She is amazing because she was the first person I met who realized that gold is something that comes from within.  Mary found gold through a life of prayer and devotion, as symbolic in the only words she would speak… “Oh come let us adore him.”  However, that is not to say that there are not millions of ways to find gold within.  Prayer, meditation, silence, mounting climbing, baking, sewing, knitting, hiking, anything that involves self reflection.  Gold is there.  It is in all of us – just waiting for that moment when we realize it has been in us all along.

On a moment...

On a moment…

I work for a billion dollar company that hires thousands of people throughout the world.  As a worker for my company, I work within another billion dollar company that employs thousands of people throughout the world.  So, as you can imagine, on most days I feel quite small.  To add another level, I work for a data company that produces something like 40,000,000 new bits of information every single day.  That means I learn something new every day, but it also means that most days you are left feeling relatively inadequate and uniformed.

But today – just a few seconds ago - I had a moment.

I was asked to pull data for someone.  I am the lowest possible person on the totem pull where I work.  But a manager asked me to pull data that she wants to share with a vice president of some company in New York City.  The thing is, in order for them to get the data I need to go through this fun legal process song and dance (the treaded third party agreement – shudder….).  At some point during this several hour long ordeal - my brain clicked.

I realized that I am a peon sitting at the desk of the largest cereal maker in the world pulling data for the largest market research firm in the world.  BUT in order for this cereal maker to move with this other company in New York City – they need my help.  Yes, someone else on my team could do it, but it is on me.  And at this moment, if these two companies want anything – I am the conduit, the power cord, the electric tape holding it all together. 

So I will manage the legal process.  I will pull the data.  I will do everything that I can to help.

But in my world of billion dollar transactions where no one knows your name – for this moment – for this one split second – what I did mattered.  I helped.  I was supportive.  I was there.  I did my job.  I had a moment.

On priorities...

(from a few weeks ago...)

Today, I was blessed to attend a very big event at work with six or so of my co-workers.  The event was suit and tie.  There were 500 people.  The food was catered – there were FOUR CHOCOLATE FOUNTAINS – there were presidents – there were CEOs of companies floating around - there were huge powerpoint presentations – and the words ‘synergy’ and 'holistic'… you get the point.  After about one hour of presentations, I looked to my left and to my right and I realized “Crap – I am the youngest person in this room of 500 people.”  I felt totally overwhelmed and thought “Why am I here?”

To make things more intense, I was seated next to my boss.  I will call him “Boss Dude.” Okay, I was not seated next to just any boss…  I was seated next to an “Executive Vice President” who has enough power to crush my life and my career.  Seriously, this guy manages thousands of people and has enough sway to do just about anything he wants.  Boss dude flew in from some big city just to attend this event and meet my co-workers.  I was excited, flattered, and nervous about sitting next to this bro-ham.

A few speakers did their thing, and then it was time for a break.  The first thing “Boss dude” did was get up and walk away from our table.  Everyone else at the table did what people do and have a discussion, but boss man made it clear he could care less about having discussions with his employees.  Then, when Boss Dude came back he was… miserable.  He talked about how many meetings he had, he talked about how he missed his family, he talked about how he was just ….. BLAH.  Every time someone at the table spoke he brought the conversation back to himself and then said something negative.  I kept trying to be witty, another worker kept trying to be witty, we were all trying to be positive and nice.  However, this Boss Dude must have been having a bad year, because he had the ability to suck ALL of the joy right out of the room.

As of right now, I feel bad for the Boss Dude.  From what he told me directly, he travels quite a lot, sees his family very little, and has a high stress job.  From all that I gather – he is miserable.  From what I deduce – he does not even see how miserable he is. What fascinates me about the Boss Dude is that every other person around me seemed to idolize him – or at least his title.  They did not seem to enjoy his presence, but they listening to him ramble on about how miserable he is. I hope that Boss Dude is happy.  I am sure he is a nice guy with a lot going on.  However, he is just missing the point of it all.  He does not seem to know what his priorities are and that they are in conflict. 

After about an hour of listening to captain negative’s miserable ramblings - I became overwhelmed with happiness.  I was overwhelmed for three reasons: 1) I realized that I may not have the power this man has or his stature.  However, I am incredibly happy.  He has worked hard.  He is accomplished.  But he is miserable – so what is the point?  2)  I realized that although Boss Man could crush my career, he has no power over me other than what I give to him.  I felt like others at the table kissed his butt a little bit and let him be a jerk.  Being me – I did not do that.  He was complaining for a while so I asked him, “Do you even like your job?”  I did not care if my question hurt or helped my career, because at that point we were just two humans having a conversation.  My question stopped him in his tracks.  He did not even know if he was happy.  3) I was on a track to have a miserable life.  I could be rich – or at least wealthy.  I could have had stature and power over people and a big house on a hill.  I could be stuck in a job where my co-workers are judgmental and unaccepting of who I am.  However, I left that life behind me.  I realized that life was not what I wanted, and trying to attain that life was slowly killing me.  I had the power to realize I was unhappy – and I changed it. 

There are so many things that make up a life.  You have work, family, church, hobbies, kids, goals, the dog, travel, vacation, meetings, the bills, money, your pride… you have so many things.  Trying to align these things carefully to maintain happiness can be quite a difficult task. I was happy I was invited to the event, but the table at which I was seated was filled with misery and discontent.  So you know what I did?  I left at the break.  Yeah, that is right.  I could have stayed and let Boss Dude suck the soul from my body.  But I left.  I then called my boyfriend to tell him about the event - that I love him - that I miss him - and that I am so happy to see him tonight.  I imagine that if I stayed I would have brought home anger and misery.  I do not want that.  I know what my priorities are.  Although I do struggle to keep those in line, I feel like leaving the event today was a reminder of how I am the only person to control my priorities.

If you are in a room full of 500 people and you cannot look around and be amazed – you do not get it.  I was amazed at the chocolate fountain; while the Dude Boss would not get up from his table (I know, right!).  If you are traveling all of the time when all you want to do is see your family – you do not get it.  I am not saying travel is good or bad, or family is better, or that I know what the formula to life is for every person.  What I am saying is that if your priorities are in conflict, it will often lead to discontent.

Today, I was easily the youngest person in the room.  However, as I sit here typing I really believe that the Boss Dude (and a few other people in the room) could stand to look around and ask themselves…. “Why am I here?” and more importantly... "Is there somewhere else I want to be?"