Depression, Purpose and Waiting on Life: An Advent Confession

This blog is dedicated to my little sister, Brandy. I may not always be able to give you awesome things, but all that I have is the example of my life, and I hope that facing my own fears and letting my own light shine will give you permission to do the same. 

Sometimes, facing the fear is facing the darkness inside yourself. 

For the last year or so, I've battled with what some would call depression. I say some because I am no expert on the matter, nor have I received any official diagnosis of being depressed. But I have felt it, like a fog that rests on your conscience; you're not really sure what lies ahead or even behind and you feel paralyzed and unmotivated to embark on such a quest of discovery. I feel it even now as I write this, but writing this confession is all I could bring myself to do in the midst of work to be done and PhD applications to be completed. I hope and pray that this written confession helps me to not only face that fear in myself, but to take the steps to overcome it.

It's a long way down from here

Graduation 2014: The sky's the limit!

June of 2014 was the best and scariest time of my life thus far. I was graduating from seminary with a degree I've wanted for a long time but allowed outside voices of discouragement allow me to forget. I also just finished a term as student body president and had amazing experiences that only solidified and confirmed my dream of running an institution of similar nature. I was happy, I had purpose and the possibilities were endless. This statement ironically was also the very reason for my fear. Everyone wanted to know what was next for me in my journey and many shared high hopes and aspirations, some even higher than my own. It was a shock to some then, when I decided to stay and take a job at the school I attended. They thought my reasoning for taking something that would be a stable transition as I prepared to apply for PhD programs was a noble one, but feared that I would "get stuck" as the saying went in those circles. I acknowledged their fear as one of my own, but assured them that this would not be the case. I still had a plan, and I would not deter from it.

The beginnings of the job proved difficult for many reasons I shall not discuss here, but I found that it was not just the circumstances of my employment that proved hard: I was tired and I failed to take a moment to stop and breathe. By the end of the year I questioned my decision; I postponed my PhD applications another year to give myself some space and rest, but I was not sure of how to accomplish either. By the beginning of 2015 the stress of work, relationships, and other responsibilities weighed on me to no end, and I would find myself crying most days, for no particular reason at all.

Depression or Circumstance?

"I don't think you are depressed, I think it's just circumstantial. Let's see how you feel after this blows over." 

These were the words of a friend who I'd just told that I thought I was depressed. It was March by this time, and the weighing down that I felt was more than just the emotional cycle of PMS. I did not have words for what I was feeling, so my lack of vocabulary lead me to conclude that I was depressed. But she was right. I was in the midst of circumstance that felt like "trouble on every side" and I felt that any confidence I had left had been ripped out of me at that point. Maybe my "depression" was just my natural reaction to going through a hard time in life. And besides, people were starving and without, black male bodies were lying dead in the street for no reason other than fear, and millions were being exploited all around the world; in perspective my life didn't seem so bad. And even still, there were real people out there dealing with real depression to the point that they couldn't get out of bed or that their lives were completely changed so who was I to compare myself to this? This was also true, but none of this made me feel any better. In fact, it made me feel worse, as I only felt guilt and shame for feeling this way when others had circumstances more dire than mine.

By the Fall of 2015, circumstances had changed (somewhat), but the fog still remained. I felt paralyzed to accomplish the things I knew to be the right path for me. I tried to grab hold of things that brought me life. They did, but even still it was hard to focus on getting them done. I struggled to engage in things I loved, and only felt at peace by distracting myself with social media, arbitrary mobile games and Netflix. I struggled to remember who I was; I doubted myself in every way and when I did fail at something, I used that as ammunition for a battle where I was both victor and the defeated. I isolated myself from people. I became flaky, not following through on what I said, and I wondered if the paths I thought were right were right for me. From my perspective I became unpredictable in mood; if I wasn't oversharing, I was isolating. I was not myself, and people noticed.

Purpose Driven Life
I have never read the Purpose Driven Life, but it sure felt like I was living it. Since the beginning of my seminary career (and even before) I based my life on the purpose I would accomplish. My life was dictated by what I thought to be my purpose, and my purpose dictated by what I thought to be my vocation. "You want to be a writer? Get an MFA and go write." "You want to be a theologian and artist? Get your MDiv." "Oh you want to teach, then you must get your PhD" and so on and so on. My life was dictated by what I wanted to be, but I never stopped to think of who I actually was.

Called by Mark Labberton

I recently read Called by Mark Labberton and had the honor of teaching a course on calling at New City Church of Los Angeles where I attend. There, we learned that calling wasn't about what you wanted to be when you grew up but about receiving and living the love of Christ for yourself and others. My life was driven on accomplishing a task, it was driven by becoming. But my calling was not driven by becoming; it rested on being. For this entire year or so I've been focused on becoming, but I didn't know how to just be. I lost myself because I was working so hard to find it, and like quicksand I sank deeper with every struggle. But I realized that in his ever present patience, God was waiting for me to tire myself out all along. And as I write to you now, I realize that I am tired. I was always tired; tired of trying to figure out next steps, tired of fighting for change when it didn't seem to be coming, tired of believing I was something I wasn't.

Waiting here for You

So here I am now: tired, depressed (though undiagnosed) and waiting. I am not out of this place that I have resided. I still struggle with the same doubt, the same fear. I still find it extremely difficult to focus though time is merciless and application deadlines are approaching and work never ceases. I turn 33 in a week and a half and I don't feel like celebrating. For the first time, it just feels like another day. And yet, I will celebrate (mostly because my friends offered to take me to dinner) and I will finish my applications (mostly because no one should have to endure the GRE and have nothing to show for it) and I will find my calling place, where I can learn to receive and life the love of Christ.

But I wonder if there are others who are like me, who deal with these low seasons of life and isolate rather than turn to community. I wonder if others have people to talk to when some in their community and family don't understand what it means to be depressed. I personally have been blessed with a diverse community of people who understand these things and are willing to walk with me through them (whether I like it or not). I am grateful to have resources for therapy and spiritual direction, as well as mentors and friends who will encourage me. But mostly I am grateful for a God who is present with me in the valley of waiting. He understands what it means to wait and to be expected. He will teach me to rest in being. He will teach me to wait. And he will come.