Rainbows and the Valley of the Shadow of Death

This life we live can be so heavy sometime. With the recent passing of Robin Williams, the debate over suicide and depression is raging. One blogger being harshly criticized for his seemingly unfeeling commentary and the stories are emerging. The theme is that we need to be kind.

Suicide is a horrible thing. It affects the people who remain in utterly profound ways that can’t be explained and that leave an impression, like a footprint, for the rest of their lives. I have had so many conversations about suicide. I think most of the people I have had significant conversations with have contemplated suicide at least once. There are days when life is so heavy that a reprieve seems glorious. The eternity of the reprieve is the only thing that causes a hesitation.

Inextricably linked with suicide is often drug abuse and depression. I cannot comment on drug abuse. I have been blessed with a strangely non-addictive personality and I am thankful.

Depression, on the other hand, is a rabbit hole I have been dancing in and out of for a very long time. I didn’t realize it for the longest time. I thought I was just a mellow person who was sad sometimes. It took one of the most stressful periods of my life compounded by some significant tragedies to send me to a counselor. She was amazing. A woman struggling with her own devastating health issues and life dilemmas, she was very adept at spotting and articulating my and others’ issues. I realized those “mellow” moods were actually called dysthemia and the darker moods had become very dark. At one point I told her I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore.

I was still in school – not excelling, but functioning -  I was doing all the things one should. I attended church regularly, including bible study and prayer meetings. I had excellent close friends. I began going to the gym. My biggest vice was that I liked to drink. Otherwise, my nutrition was fairly good. My sleep habits were not stellar, but they were better than many peoples. My counselor told me I was high-functioning. Another woman I spoke too said that reminded her of working with mentally disabled children. Apparently high-functioning is the term for those who are almost normal.

I made many poor choices during this time of my life. What I think the people who are commenting on this publicly noted suicide and the resulting topic of depression don’t realize is the hopelessness. There are three roots that can form depression – physical deficiencies, spiritual deficiencies, and emotional deficiencies. AS a Christian, I believe God created us to be perfect, but then there was a fall from grace and our bodies developed mutations and genetic propensities that cause us to be less than perfect. Having finally acquiesced to the idea of taking medication, I have realized that I do not have enough serotonin in my system. Compound this physical deficiency with several emotional trauma’s, including being adopted as an infant, the deaths of several grandparents, and my own parent’s divorce. Additionally, I am an emotionally sensitive person, highly empathic and intuitive to the emotions and attitudes of the people around me. Throw in law school, my own failed relationships, rekindled relationships with my birth parents, complicated friendships and my parents’ divorce, and it creates the recipe for a perfect storm.

I am certain now that I have struggled with depression for most of my life. It manifested in many different ways, such as when I plucked out all my eyelashes and most of my eyebrows. In the most severe time, it manifested itself with a lot of alcohol and partying, poor choices in bedfellows, and anything that could make me forget for a little while. Thanks to the 20 mg white pill I take every morning, my serotonin levels are balanced and several other health difficulties vanished, including thyroid and adrenal fatigue.

It’s ironic really. Depression is numbness. It is a sense of hopelessness. A realization that your best is no longer good enough, that being faithful doesn’t mean smooth sailing, that you don’t know, and more terrifyingly, you can’t find the answers. The numbness is a thin veil over pain and anguish, though. At some point, I just wanted it to all go away. The numbness of thorough intoxication, the endorphin rush after sex, the dreamless sleep that comes of sheer exhaustion – these were the only escapes.  

I have been down the rabbithole. But for the grace of God, I didn’t have to suffer through addiction or even end my own life. Even at the worst, I knew there were people who loved me and who I loved and I knew God had a plan for my life and that ending things wasn’t an option. Running away to a far away state and changing my name and never coming back seemed like an option, but ending it all permanently never was.

I have walked through this valley of the shadow of death with loved ones more than once. That walk is almost more excruciating than my own walk down that path. Those who haven’t been there say, “but there’s always hope.” No, there’s not. Hope is ethereal. It is something you can only seize when there is an ounce of faith in whatever you hope in. There are days when you wake up and the sky is gray and the only thing you can think about is that you are one day closer to being worm food and that showering and working and studying are just foolish ways to pass time. Depression is facing the meaning of life and realizing it is subjective. Depression is fearing that all of our talk about profundity in life is just a mask and a distraction from the reality that our existence is but a speck on the windshield of time.

For some reason, we don’t think that our physical well-being is at all related with the emotional traumas of our lives. They are inextricably linked. Migraines and stomachaches can be the symptoms of a guilty conscience. Paralyzing fear can cause extreme body aches. The pills we take to make the migraine go away create dependence and serotonin starvation which leads to dark despair.

Depression is very real. I’m not sure disease is an accurate term. It is a condition of humanity. Sometimes it serves a useful purpose, but much as anything else in life, it must be in balance. It must end and be replaced with joy. Otherwise, it becomes too deep, too dark and the searing arrows that the enemy shoots at us in the valley of the shadow of death strike too deeply to be healed.

Some people get stuck. We’ve all had days where we wanted it to stop - the noise, the discomfort, the restlessness, the hopelessness. Fortunately, most of us find a reason to choose not to take the pills, not to pick up the gun, not to take the affirmative steps to the end. “How many people who jump off the Golden Gate Bridge change their minds half way down?” said Sherman Alexie. That phrase haunts me. Robin Williams could have woken up today and been relieved that he hadn’t followed through with that dark haunting thought. But he didn’t. Most likely, the darkness got too thick and he lost his way just too far.

I was driving through the scablands this summer and was accompanied by a thundercloud. I saw a rainbow and was immediately submerged by a realization. God is like the rainbow. After all, he is the one who gave Noah the rainbow as a promise. The promise was that he would not use water to destroy life again. But maybe the promise is deeper. The conditions that create a rainbow are unique. There must be rain for a rainbow, but there are not always rainbows with the rain. There must be sunlight for a rainbow, but there are not always rainbows in the sun. A rainbow requires a rain cloud – water droplets of significant number suspended in the air – and sunlight at just the right angle.

Life is like that drive through the scablands. Sometimes we drive towards the sun, our faces full of light and love and warmth. Sometimes we drive through the storms, darkness, dampness, and chill filling our souls. In the midst of the darkest storms, we must keep our eyes on the light – on the sun. But, if we are facing the sun, we will never see the rainbow. It is when facing the storm, with our backs to the sun, either before entering or after walking through, that we see the rainbow. Walk towards the light, but don’t forget to turn and see God’s promise in the darkness you walked through. Face the storm with staid determination, seeing God’s promise to carry you through whatever comes your way with the sun at your back and those promises before you.

Depression is that dark cloud. In the midst of the storm, it’s easy to forget the rainbow. But! The elements surround you! The water droplets are still there, the light is still there! It’s just that unique moment when it all comes together that we see the rainbow.

I think Robin Williams forgot about the rainbow. The darkness got too thick and it would seem that he didn’t have faith that the sun, that God, was there with him and would be there on the other side. For one moment, or a handful of moments, he lost sight of the rainbow.

The bloggers are all right, to an extent. Suicide is tragic. Depression is overwhelming. It has spiritual, physical, and emotional causes. Jesus died on the cross to save us from our propensities towards self-destruction. Faith in God and membership in a church community are integrally important to our emotional and spiritual health. Sometimes you need to physically balance the chemicals in your brain.

The bottom line is this: We are a world full of brokenness, darkness, and that cold, blinding rain. As Christians, we have light. We can call on those photons of light that squeeze through and refract into beautiful rainbows. We are the ones who should be able to turn around and see the promises. We need to share those promises. Not in obnoxious evangelism, but in true love.

Be safe. Walk into the rabbit hole with your friend. Hold their hand and hide the pills. Sit with them until they find rest and then answer the phone call in the morning. If you are the one in the valley, reach out to your fellow believers. Share your sorrows and allow them to mourn with you. It’s the hardest thing you will ever do, but they will break that stubborn darkness and remind you of the rainbows. You must then do likewise. The answer isn’t a 2x4 of truth, but the steady pressure on the low back encouraging, loving, and supporting through the valley to the sunlight. 

Life-changing

A. I'm pretty sure no one reads this blog anymore, but that's ok.
B. They all said that the trip to Italy would be a life-changing trip for us. Susan asked me afterwards if my life had changed. Well, not especially. What did change is our relationship. For the last 6 years, there has been a barricade between us. The sisters and aunts and I have fell together into a comfortable relationship - not as close as any of us would like, but comfortable. Susan and I, however, dance around one another trying to figure out what it means to be a mother and a daughter. This trip allowed us to see each other without the distractions of the rest of the family. It allowed us to be strong and weak, alternating roles. It allowed us to fuss and make up, to explore our boundaries. This one week of my life changed this fundamental relationship fundamentally.
C. My favorite joke is that God decided when I was coming to earth that I would need a lot of mommies and he sent me several to serve in that role. One of them ... is struggling. Cancer has reared it's ugly head and is overcoming her body. Last night, I got the call she may have less than a month. I haven't seen her in months, spoken to her, none of the above. I knew she'd get better. We were praying, we serve a God of miracles, right? But, here again, the miracles haven't come. The miracle will not be seen in a phenomenal healing, but in the small bits of growth and salvation that God is infusing in her family. It inspires sobs of grief. I hauled 80 gallons of water last night meanwhile sobbing under the bright stars. Why her? Her daughters love her, need her, speak to her daily. Her son is so young and needs his mother, especially as his father can't love him as he needs. She has 6 grandchildren and only one or two will even remember  her. Her sister, her brother, her parents, she has been their rock - the center of the family occasions. Her husband loves her and will be broken without her. So, why is God taking her? Why? I'm angry, i don't understand. I cannot rationalize this. There is no logical explanation, only that bitter ache that is becoming all too familiar. I celebrated my 30th birthday instead of attending the funeral of my uncle who committed suicide. I celebrated my 30th birthday instead of visiting the woman who held me through so many teenage crises on her deathbed. Within the last year, 2 of my friends parents have died. With the foreboding death of another, I cannot help but think I am too young to deal with the death of parents. The death of grandparents has not concluded yet. We've already moved onto parents? No. There was supposed to be a break of birth of babies in the middle here.
D. The thing about Italy that moved me was that it was not historically clean. We couldn't move from the town of the 800's AD to the town of the 100 B.C. to the town of 1200 AD to the Piazza of 1800 AD to the town that exemplified modern days. No. It is all lumped together; stacked upon itself; built by robbing the great grandfather to build the great grandson. WE walk from cobblestones from 400 years ago into a temple built 1000 years ago but co-opted 600 years ago. A highway goes through Nero's baths. The yellow taxi taking me to the airport picked me up next to the Coliseum. Life is not clean and tidy. It is lumped upon itself. Grandparents die and babies are born, even conceived. Mom gets sick will daughter becomes pregnant and Grandma lives her 90th year healthier than both of them. Life is not logical. God's logic is not man's logic.
E. My uncle prepared my aunt for his departure. He then prepared his affairs for his final departure. What resolve! To conscientiously prepare your family for your sin..... thoughtful, yet bastardly. I cannot make sense of it.
F. My friendships have changed. I cannot understand why; I can't process how; but, my best friends no longer call me to go out with them; they no longer show up to my birthday parties; i no longer buy beautiful gifts for them and their children. We have become tired, lacking the energy to be intentional in our relationships. It wasn't ever supposed to be like this. Yet, here we are.
I miss discovering new music. I miss reading novels and loving them. I miss the awe of discovery. I miss the beauty of a pause in a sunset. Days past 30 and I feel middle-aged and disappointed that I fell into the rut.
G. My grandpa told me Life is like a buffet. I think I've hit the meat... or maybe the side dishes-  the taters.

Observation

How interesting is it that a tragedy where our children are slaughtered happens so closely to the time we read about in the Christmas story how Herod slaughtered an entire generation of baby boys in a vain attempt to eliminate the. Christ. We have here 20 babies who were slaughtered as a result of our culture's attempt to eliminate the Christ. And yet, we dont mourn the children we sacrifice to our own fears and selfish desires. So, what does this loss reveal to us? Is this really an occasion for us to sacrifice more of our freedom and money to a government so that it will "protect" us by taking weapons from bad and crazy people? Or by taking more money from  us so the crazy people can be medicated, counseled, and locked away to keep us sane people safe? Are we really sane? We see our selves as mini gods. Masters of our own fates, immune to visions and knowledge and experiences of blood, violence, and gore. Expecting that we can make choices to pursue our own happiness, selfishly expecting that our actions will have no consequences in our families, communities, and broad society. We talk blithely about how we are all connected and how we gotta look out for each other, but then divorce our spouses and expect that they won't experience consequences of depression and suicide. We glorify love, yet demean self-sacrifice. We expect our children to roll with the punches and not suffer from the rifts we create in our families. We create a culture where we glorify stories of violence, gore, and selfishness instead of glorifying a God of life, peaceable and quiet lives. 

I propose that instead of calling out to our big brother and our nanny to solve our problems, we, especially those of us who have been called to live our lives loving and Glorifying God and our neighbor, humble our selves. Plead forgiveness from God for disregarding his rules, forgiveness from our families and communities for any harms we have caused. I propose we protect our fragile minds and souls and the fragile minds, souls, and lives of the innocent from needless blood-letting and violence. Is there not enough pain and senseless violence in our world?

Why don't we consider why we send our children out to be indoctrinated in schools where the administrations have taken away any means of protecting them?

Let us take a moment of silent introspection and acknowledge the  injustices that we ourselves have perpetrated and ask for forgiveness  and absolution from that higher power we all give lip service to. Let us then move forward with confidence in that forgiveness and humbly strive to live in such a way as to be quiet, peaceable, seeking the best for our families and communities, not ourselves. Don't seek salvation from wrongdoing and injustice from a government comprised of faulty humans such as ourselves. Salvation only comes from sacrifice. That Christ we are attempting to eliminate became human, limiting himself so that he could sacrifice himself for our well-being. Freedom from guilt and selfish hearts is a low-hanging fruit waiting for us to humble ourselves, look up, and grasp. 

Christmas is about the gift of a child who, in turn, gave himself for our freedom and salvation from ourselves and our selfishness. The consequences will always be present because evil is always present, but we have been given power to see those consequences as a means to learn to forgive, to love, and to grow. 

Let the death of these innocents point us to consider the death of The Innocent and the freedom that death offers. 

Take heart my friends, let not these deaths be in vain. Consider your own heart and how you may prevent future tragedies by living selflessly and with the aid of our Incarnate Saviour.

I don't post much, especially now that I'm not in school or studying as I feel guilty posting from work (I'm on my lunch break, incidentally) and therefore since I don't have to be at a computer all day, I keep myself very busy avoiding the computer doing all those other things, mostly playing with dogs and horses and drinking and gardening and sleeping. A few thoughts inspired by seeing a woman I hadn't seen in years.
First, about Shelly. Then I'll tell you about my weekend and the amazing woman I refer to as MT mom and other mother.
 Shelly is this woman who has that quality about her that makes me incredibly intrigued. I met her at a health class when I was like, 10 or something. She befriended my mom while I sat and listened and observed her. Wide set calm blue eyes and a staid look on her face, she is simple, intelligent, empathetic, and is truly a beautiful soul. When I saw her she reminded me of so many people who I love.
I realize they all share these qualities and they all share these qualities with my biological mom. I can't help but think that I've been looking for her - my soul searching out her soul all these years. Now that I know her, somedays I almost feel that I've fallen in love with her, but not in an Electral or Oedipal kind of way, but in a soulmate kind of way. I now understand how mothers and daughters could be best friends. She is a fierce woman. (That word always brings to my mind an image of Boudicea from Celtic history, her hair streaming wildly back as she runs, flying almost, into battle in vengeance and to protect her people, her children). She has this smile that warms the depths of my soul. I look into her eyes and feel that I don't need to explain. I can tell her anything, knowing full well she will still love me. My biggest concerns are her regrets. 23 years of regrets. Her kind eyes and full smile that reaches out like a hug. Her tight, fierce hugs that make up for 23 years of missing hugs. Her wild salted auburn hair that flows back from her face. How my brothers are outspoken, liberal, hippy boys that love and accept and protect the misfortunate as if they are their own. The musical genius and eccentricity that they show. And it's not just her.
My aunts, my grandparents, some of the cousins, and even the uncles - they give me this look. It unnerved me in the beginning. Then, I understood the look. It's this look of surprise when they see her in me, this look of familiarity even though they have known me less time than some of my enemies, it's a look of possession- the moment when they realize that I am theirs. I am their cousin, niece, grandchild and I inherited a physical, emotional, intellectual birthright that nurture could not erase, but could only compliment. It's been five years and 25 days since I met her. Since I saw that backswept salted hair and felt the first fierce hug, since I felt so woefully inadequate. It's been four years since I forced myself on a 2.5 hour drive to walk into a group of 60 people who were my family, but didn't know it yet. Since then, I have been loved. I have discovered Irish Catholic Jesuit roots that explain so many of my eccentricities. I am an honorary Montanan and it shows in the way I drive, the way I drink, and the way I take on life seeing the consequences clearly, but daring them to try to slow me down. My love for law, politics, government, the environment, and for justice for all. These are my birthright and I didn't even know it. My thick hair, long legs, propensity to build muscle, womanly endowment, and the little belly that gives me fits - these are my inheritance. I could name as many things that I have gained from my raising. I could name things that I have inherited from the quiet, thoughtful man who is my birth father, such as my blue eyes, my reddish blonde curly hair, my nose, my tendency to pause and slightly stutter my way through conversations. But, as my maternal family is just that, maternal, and they were first, these things strike me most then. I am overwhelmed by the emotion I feel, the care, the protection, the easy hugs. Sometimes, a weekend with them is like a down comforter and I just want to sleep.
All of these things that have changed since those days when I sat quietly and observed Shelly came rushing at me when I caught her eyes today. She looked at me as I looked at her, a faint recognition in her eyes. I didn't return it. I couldn't return the recognition as I didn't know what to say, how to describe why I knew her. For, I feel I know her more deeply than anyone could ever explain. I can't wait to get to heaven and ask God how that works. It's not all genetic, or environmental, but we have spiritual connections, emotional connections that feel as if they stretch back beyond the aeons into another time, another place, another creation. Those are the people I treasure most. I am so blessed.

LMFAO

So, I just realized recently that I could have taken said dream job with said dream boss (incidentally I'm house sittin for and can't stop thinking about what the funeral is going to be about - I have issues) and retaken the FING bar exam in July. ??? Why didnt' I do that??? Best of both worlds, hello? I assume God kept that little tid bit idea out of my little brain for a reason...I like my job. The office is always a good time as my boss and his wife have immensely inappropriate sense of humor. For example, he keeps asking me to draw up my dad's contempt orders and I keep telling him no. This makes his wife giggle and him apologize. Then he does it again. Alas, the life I lead.
I wanted to write this blog to protest the Elmo version of "i'm sexy and I know it"
The part that bugs me the most is "I walk into the room and Drawer and Mr. Noodle are staring at me."
OK. Drawer -- whatever, it's elmo.
Mr. Noodle? OMG, it's a middle-aged man with bad style and a really bad comb-over. Elmo's like a kid, right? and there's a middle-aged man staring through a porthole of some sort in his wall when he walks into the room? not to mention Mr. NOODLE? Euphemism anyone?
I got to admit, the thing made me laugh really hard. "I make art!" But, Mr. Noodle watching when little kid-like Elmo walks into the room set off my pedophile alarm bells. No kids, it is not ok for Mr. Noodle to watch you. EVER! or touch you or make you do things that your little kid conscience rebels against.
So, sorry if this just took a fun song and ruined it for you. Welcome to my little world - lawyers joking about me taking a swan dive off the fine line tightrope I'm walking and little furry creatures talking about Mr. Noodle watching them. No wonder I have crazy dreams....

WTF God?

I've been struggling the last few days. I made a decision to stay at home and work part time for an attorney and study to re-take the bar. Not take the job that would be fun and exciting and live on my own in the city. I've been asking God what He's doing? I had this vision for my future. Clerkship, counsel for the Legislature, some kind of respected rad job. My future has recently taken on a totally different cast. Working at a desk hidden in an office, living a mediocre life in a small town. So, I've been depressed. Today in church, I was on my knees and I realized (or God told me) that I'm here for a reason. I've always felt that strongly. God puts us all where we are supposed to be, but I feel like in my case it's more obvious. This isn't a mistake. I continually pray that God will use me to glorify and accomplish his will. So, here I am, back in the small town, with friends saying they're glad I'm not leaving again. I guess it's time that I try to figure out why I'm here instead of where I thought I would be. What am I supposed to be doing while I'm here? That is the question.

Chapters

I'm often musing about new beginnings, but really how many new beginnings does one get? So, maybe it's more like chapters...stations in a buffet line.... stations in an assembly line?
When I received my birth certificate in the mail, I freaked out. I’m not sure what I thought it held, but I freaked out. As a result, Andi, the chaplain took it and put it in her desk. This was right before finals…. In the year before this moment, my only girlfriend had broke it off with me, my brother had moved home after his long term girl kicked him out, my parents weren’t speaking and I had taken the LSAT and had one semester left in college. She thought it was bad timing. So, it sat in her desk drawer all through Christmas break and then through Jan term, as she was in south Africa. So, it was early in second semester – first part of February…. I opened the envelope, Andi sitting across from me, annoyed, I’m sure. I immediately wept. Neither of us really understood why. I think, now, that it was the anticipation, the severe disappointment that it was real, I was adopted…. Bitter painful tears.
So, I feel right now how I felt before opening that letter. Amazing how opening a letter can change the tide of your life. Opening that letter led to that picture that I received about a month ago. What a miraculous journey from the Spring of 2006 to the Fall of 2011. 5 years and a lifetime of emotions and all these beautiful souls I didn't know before.
So, here I prepare to open another letter. It’s really not that big of a deal, but it means the completion of 4 years of the hardest shit I’ve endured…. Stress, temptation, anxiety, sorrow, disappointment, etc. All for this letter. And it will say I passed and can get licensed and start a new (?) life. Or it will say that I didn’t pass either part. Most likely, I passed the substantive and didn’t pass the PR. Which means I have some studying to do and life gets to be on held even longer, but not really. Nothing in life is clean cut. It’s all dragged out emotion and jagged edges.
So, now it comes down to waiting for the mail and refreshing my browser. Cheers.