To Whom it May Concern

I had a very close friend for a season in my life who battled deep clinical depression. The kind there I would have to go over to her house and get her to simply take a shower. I would coax her for about 40 minutes to get up by starting with simply sitting up. It was something I didn’t understand, but I could see this weight on her and wanted to help lift its gravity off her if just through a clean PJ set. I learned a lot in that time, and it made me far more compassionate to those who battle different forms of depression. 

In 2009, I opted for a double lumbar fusion surgery in my lower back to have a chance at a less painful life. Thankfully, it brought great healing to my body at the cost of great illness to my brain. The anesthesia and drugs changed my brain chemistry sending me into an overwhelming depression. I thought I was under spiritual attack (I know it was and continues to be but there also is a definite chemical illness happening) if I’m transparent; I asked a pastor at church about it and she advised that she thought I was depressed. I had no frame of reference for identification it. 

Life continues to happen. As I pen this I am reflecting on the journey…that bout had me deeply anxious and paranoid where I only felt safe in my car. I spent weeks parking in large parking lots like Home Depot or Lowe’s, reading a book in my car all day long. I didn’t feel safe anywhere outside of that car. It was a strange time. 

In 2011 my spiritual father passed from cancer and I had an excruciatingly challenging job at the time. I found myself in the parking lot of work more than once hyperventilating and crying. I was barely sleeping and felt like I was coming undone. This time I went to a doctor and they advised I was depressed but it presented itself as anxiety. I was prescribed Xanax; that was a God send in that time and I finally started sleeping again. 

In 2019 after years of learning to manage anxiety, feeling that my bouts of melancholy were because I was a writer and it’s how artists are; I found myself getting through each day thinking that surely tomorrow would have to be better. The thing is, my tomorrows were not getting better. Then we have a global pandemic which changed all of us, maybe fundamentally.  Then, I graduate from graduate school and feel like I should move to Guatemala to serve for a year as a full time missionary. Couple that with a deep spiritual crisis over church, pastor behavior and treatment, and something stirring deeply within me calling me to bring change without specifics.

I packed all that together in three suitcase full of hope that I would arrive at the end of whatever this was I felt inside once I got to Guatemala. Let me tell ya, my whole world unraveled further. Three and a half years later, I feel like I’m still walking up sand dunes that give way regressing my progress to upward movement. I am still trodding along. Next is learning not to “muscle through” my long-suffering with the Lord. Cause honestly, I just bulk up and keep on trudging, but I’m getting tired on these dunes, y’all. Anyone else now what I mean?