Christianity and Depression

God moves in a mysterious way

Those are the opening lines of a hymn written by William Cowper, poet, hymn writer, friend of John Newton, evangelical Christian and manic depressive. Yes this renowned Christian hymn writer, who also wrote O for a closer walk with God was, like me, a Christian battling with depression.

Now too often mental illness is frowned upon in Christian circles as a sign of a weak faith – ‘If you really believed you would feel better’ ‘Cheer up, Jesus died for you.’ etc etc

I’m sure some of these comments are well meant but they miss the point – they are equating being a Christian with an emotional feeling. Faith is not built on feelings it is built on knowledge and understanding. If what we believe depends on what we feel that would mean that on the days when we felt bad God was irrelevant.

Now I can tell you that is wrong. When I was at my very lowest it was my faith in God that enabled me to keep going. I felt terrible but I was still aware of God’s presence and, most wonderfully, His sustaining love. Did this make me want to shout for joy? No, I was in no state to experience joy but it was a comfort to know He hadn’t given up on me.

Here is Cowper’s wonderful hymn in its entirety, read it carefully and you catch glimpses of his fight with depression and his unwavering faith in a loving God.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

Getting Old?

Yesterday I got 2 reminders that I'm not as young as I used to be.

Firstly I had to have a new photo pass for work and, as part of the procedure I had to take in my passport as 'photo ID'. Now my passport photo dates from 2002 and given that I was bald and bearded then you would think very little could change. Wrong. In the past 8 years my hair and beard have gone grey making me look even older.

This was brought home to me in the evening when I caught the tram home. I got on and looked for a seat. Usually there are some free seats at that time but yesterday there were none and so an involuntary sigh, not very loud, escaped from my lips. At this point a young woman got up and offered me her seat which I politely refused. No-one has ever offered me a seat before; do I now look that old?

I know I'm like the late Dave Allen, who said inside he felt 25 but when he looked in the mirror there was this old git looking back, but oddly I actually feel fitter than at any time in the last 8 years. My chest conditions are under control and the pains I had breathing and walking have both been traced to my back and sorted out by first seeing and osteopath and then starting on some back strengthening exercises. This morning I did 22 press ups - not bad for an oldie who 6 months ago could only manage 3!

To Tab or not to Tab

Last Wednesday I had a bad relapse into depression. The following day I saw my care co-ordinator and, despite being exceedingly tired due to lack of sleep, I was rapidly feeling better. She, however, was worried enough about me to call me in to see the psychiatrist on the Friday.
He wants me to go back on anti-depressants as he now accepts I’m depressed; oddly he wasn’t convinced when I was put on them in hospital! I don’t want to go back on them because, as I posted before, the main effect was to dull my brain and I need all my brain working if I am going to sort myself out.
We couldn’t reach an agreement but he has given me the prescription in the hope that I will get it made up.
The question now is do I go with my instinct and avoid medication as it won’t help my recovery or do I go with the opinion of the expert who has only seen me 2 or 3 times.
To misquote Shakespeare – To tab or not to tab, that is the question.

How Are They Going To Do That?

I have just spotted a headline that says "More help for missing people" which begs the question if they are missing how do you find them to help them? Of course once you've found them they are no longer missing so they wouldn't get the help anyway.

Yesterday I went to Work

Yesterday morning I woke up at 4:45 and didn't get back to sleep properly because I was worried; worried because I was going to work. Normally going to work isn't a big deal but yesterday was my first day back at work since early November when I had some form of mental breakdown. Going back to work was one of the big steps back to normality and I was worried: worried about how my colleagues would react and worried about how I would react.

Of course it went OK; most of the things we worry about never happen anyway. We had moved office while I was off so I spent part of the day unpacking 3 crates and working out how to fit it all into one desk, a lot of time clearing some of the 979 (approx) unread e-mails and a short time talking to my boss. All in all it was a gentle, stress free day and yet I had been worried about it.

Was I right to worry? I don't know. But what I do know is that God was with me and I was supported by a lot of prayer and without them I would have struggled.

When I was first ill I thought work was one of the main causes of my situation but I have now come to see that most of my work stress was self induced. It wasn't the work that was wrong but my reaction to it. A reaction born out of situations that have existed from as long ago as my childhood. An understandable but wrong reaction.

It's still early in my journey back to normality (whatever that is) and I'm only working part time at the moment but the great thing is that I'm on that journey.

When I started this blog one of the subjects I said I was going to cover was living with disability. At the time I defined that as being 'dyslexic with knackered lungs' but I now realise that my biggest disability is living with depression. Of course I'm still living with lung disease and dyslexia but it's the depression that has the biggest effect on me and, more importantly, those around me. I hope that in my future posts I will be able to shed some light on what it is like to be a Christian living with depression.

Only 2 years to go?

Despite my mental health problem I have, in general, been feeling physically much fitter over the last few months than I have for several years. It was, therefore, something of a surprise to read in the paper that old age starts at 58 leaving me a mere 2 years of middle age before the rot sets in.

Now if I am that close to my dotage you would have thought that I would already be on a downward spiral instead of an upturn in my health.

Read the whole article here:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/7458147/Middle-age-begins-at-35-and-ends-at-58.html

When You Are Going Through Hell, Keep Going.

I came across this quotation by Winston Churchill recently and thought it was very apt and something I should try to build into my life. You see like Churchill I have periods of depression (what he called his ‘black dog’) and so, like him, I need to learn to get on with life even when in ‘hell.’

Last November I was admitted to hospital for my own safety suffering from severe depression. Later a counsellor was to say I had been through a ‘psychotic episode’ although, at the time, the psychiatrist just said I’d ‘cracked up’ – so much for medical terminology! I was in hospital for 2 ½ weeks (it seemed an age) and have yet to get back to work.

While I was in hospital they started me on some medication that was meant to help and, in a way, it did. I was put on Citalopram and told that this would help my brain recover by helping it re-build its connections. It may well have done this but it also made me very sleepy; to the point where I was sleeping 2 – 4 hours in the day on top of a full night’s sleep.

Now this is, obviously, incompatible with getting back to work so they agreed to take me off it and monitor whether I was managing OK. What very quickly became apparent to me was that the main effect of the citalopram was to anaesthetise my brain and while this may have had some benefit the main result was that I couldn’t be myself or think properly.

While I was in hospital several times I thought about the 23rd Psalm and walking ‘through the valley of the shadow of death’ although I changed the words to ‘valley of the shadow of life’ as this was how I felt. In fact I now think I may well have been correct and this verse is about living through dark times and not, as I’d always assumed, about facing death. In fact ‘going through hell’ may also be a good description – I can’t describe what it is but I know what it feels like – so Winston Churchill’s words are a great comfort and encouragement. Comfort to know that others felt like this and encouragement because you can get through it!

I has taken me several months to pluck up courage and blog about this as I felt scared about putting something so personal on-line. If I’m lucky no-one will read it; if I’m very lucky someone will it and be encouraged by it. There is a lot more to say but I think this will do for now.