Suicide & Assumptions

Suicide. It's a taboo topic especially in religious circles but we've got to start talking about it. WE HAVE TO because lives are at stake.

This past week a Pastor from California committed suicide just three weeks after returning to his congregation following a sabbatical meant to address his mental health. I posted an article about this a friend of mine commented that this incident had shaken her faith because if a Pastor couldn't "defeat" mental illness than how could anyone else?

Her comment has been heavy on my heart for the past few days because how many times do we have expectations of certain people or people groups in thinking that they should somehow be exempt from mental illness or suicidality? It's in this thinking that the problem lives. 

Assumptions. We make assumptions about people lives. We make assumptions about how they are handling certain struggles or how they will handle certain challenges in the future. Assumptions are dangerous but what's a more dangerous thought pattern is when we put expectations on people that cause them to live on a pedestal in our minds. 

I think my friend brought to light the root of this issues, that we often think only certain people struggle and others don't or can't.

Recently, I had someone approach me and tell me that my life on social media looks so fun. I told my husband about this and we laughed but I also wanted to cry because this person has no idea what I'm actually walking through but are making an assumption based on the limited information I share online. They have no idea I'm in counseling or that I've had thoughts of self harm in the past. They have no idea what my husband and I have been walking through physically. Simple put, they have no idea. I don't fault this person, I just found it an interesting statement that further sheds light on our tendency as humans to make assumptions.

What assumptions are you making  that are potentially detrimental to you right now? What narrative have you made up in your mind about the people around you that is causing you to feel poorly about yourself? 

I once heard a quote that stated "there are a thousand different versions of you in peoples' minds". What a concept that people are walking around making up narratives about you just like you are about them. 

We have to stop this narrative that anyone is exempt from suicidal ideations. I once had a supervisor say "everyone has suicidal thoughts at some point in their life, some just have them stick". And that's true.

Stop making assumptions. 

Stop comparing. 

Comparison is the thief of joy.  

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When your season is hard

I'd love to say that I'm writing this because I've emerged from this tough season, but that would be a lie. I'm in the thick of it.

There are seasons in life that we go through that are wearying and that feel like we're barely trudging through thick mud. It's in these seasons that the only sustenance that sustains you is reminding yourself of the faithfulness of God that you've seen in the past. And at times, even that doesn't feel like enough.

About 7 years ago I was diagnosed with endometriosis and while it was a relief to have a diagnosis for what I'd been battling since puberty, having a diagnosis doesn't necessarily fix the challenge. This condition has caused unbearable painful menstrual cycles that have often left me either out of work or at Urgent Care. In April I finally had surgery to clean out as much of the disease that could be taken out without leaving me unable to have children. Last week I started the 6 month journey of monthly injections that puts my body into menopause in hopes that the disease will stop growing enough for us to be able to conceive.

This along with my existing digestive issues has caused me to feel overwhelmed and quite weary.

When you deal with a chronic issue, it can be easy to begin to despise your body. Why is all of this happening to me? How'd I get chosen to battle these conditions? It causes you to have to examine every part of your lifestyle and make changes accordingly and it's exhausting.

Not to mention the added pressure to try to conceive much sooner than we anticipated and the lingering anxiety that I won't be able to .

My favorite story in the Bible is the children of Israel and the story of their rescue from slavery. For some time, these people cried out to God to be delivered from a tyrant and He did. But as soon as they were delivered they began to doubt His goodness when faced with the Red Sea. They began to wonder if they'd been delivered from slavery only to die at the hands of a raging ocean as they saw Pharaoh and his arming approaching.  (Exodus 14)

Have you ever felt like this? I have.

The children of Israel doubted that the same God who just delivered them from Pharaoh would then turn around and let them die at Pharaoh's hand. They doubted the goodness of God. I'd even venture to say that they thought He was some kind of trickster or cruel being who would torture them with freedom only to have them die once delivered.

Earlier this week as I was vomiting from pain, I began to cry because I felt so weary. Then I remembered 14 years ago when I was laying on the hospital floor interceding for my life after an ulcer in my intestines burst. I was delivered then.

I also remembered when a former ex threatened to slit my throat but I was delivered then.

I will be delivered now. It just may not be how or when I prefer it to be. The children of Israel were delivered by a staff being stretched out that caused the seas to part. I'm sure they didn't see that coming.

I don't know when this season will end but I know the way I'll be sustained is to reflect on the times in my life when He has been faithful and to remember that above all things He is good even when it doesn't feel like it.

"For His lovingkindness prevails over us [and we triumph and overcome through Him], and the truth of the Lord endures forever" (Psalm 117:22)

Whatever season you're in today, be encouraged.

A Year Ago I Had My First Panic Attack...

A year ago this month, I had my first panic attack not knowing it would change the next year of my life.

I'm a therapist so I've worked with my fair share of individuals with anxiety or panic disorder. However, had you told me that there would be a time when I had a panic attack in the middle of the state fair or there were days when showering was all the effort I could muster I would not have believed you.

Approximately a year ago this month I had my first panic attack while leading worship and I had no idea what was going on. My body felt hot and cold at the same time, my heart was racing, my limbs were tingly and I felt like I was going to die. It wasn't until I mentioned this to a co-worker that she said "Mary Catherine, you just had a panic attack" and sure enough what I experienced was text book.

In September I began seeing a Psychiatry NP who began me on  medications where side effects were almost more unbearable compared to what I was experiencing through mental illness. But I wanted to get better so I stuck with it.

My anxiety began to grow fairly rapidly; one day I was just anxious about leading worship and the next thing I knew I was compulsively checking for my keys while on vacation or being afraid to drive. The darkest time was over Christmas break when I had two weeks off from work because that's when I had so much free time that I started to drown in anxiety. I struggled to shower or even let our dog out let alone be a fully present wife. I was anxious ALL OF THE TIME, like physically shaky and literally afraid ALL OF THE TIME. I stopped leading worship, I didn't attend any holiday parties and I cried a lot because I couldn't make myself interact with the outside world.

There were people in my life that didn't understand and that's OK because the didn't have to because I knew what I was facing was real. But not just real, it was an assault on my life.

Right before Christmas was when I knew something had to give. I wasn't functioning. I was forcing myself to eat one meal a day and for the first time in my life I had this strange urge to self harm. THIS was what scared me the most because that's just not in my nature.

So I did three things:

 I went to my NP, bawling, and told her something had to change. So we changed my medication.

   

   I let my close circle of people in my life in on my suffering.

                             

   I worshiped even when it was exhausting and I felt abandoned by God.

I wish I could tell you that I spent time in the word and blasted worship music and all of the sudden got better. Well, it didn't happen like that. I've been walking through a dark and difficult 6-is months and have had to put in the work to get better. Finding the right combinations of medication, forcing myself to sit in the sun because Vitamin D, exercising, attending therapy, weeping in Word for some morsel of truth and pushing myself to be vulnerable with people.

Psalm 13:5 (AMP version) says

"But I have trusted and relied on and been confident in Your loving kindness and faithfulness"

Sometimes we are very quickly delivered from the fire and sometimes we are in the fire so we are forced to rely on Him.

Suffering is hard and it's different for every person. But hold tight to His promises because He's been faithful in the past which is encouragement that He hasn't left you now to die.

***EDIT: I led worship again for the first time this Sunday in many months, so I'm on the upswing***

*Text START to 741-741 to text 24/7 with a live therapist

The Vulnerability Sham

If you would have asked me a month or two ago if I felt I was an open and vulnerable person I would have said "Absolutely!" but that's because I'd bought into the lie that is  censored vulnerability.

For me, this means that I lie to myself about how vulnerable I am; I convince myself that I'm "real" and "open" but truthfully I have an unspoken limit as to how much and what I will share (which borders on being completely fake and hypocritical).

I'm not talking about having boundaries, that's fine. I mean I will gladly talk about my past with depression but have yet to publicly talk about my recent onset of panic attacks that have caused me to take a break from leading worship. 

Censoring our vulnerability defeats the concept of vulnerability.

It's fairly easy for me to talk about my previously abusive relationship because in that case I've come out to be victorious, however, it's not easy to talk about how painful an adjustment marriage has been because I'm still in the thick of it.

The fear with vulnerability is that we could be judged or minimized, so instead, I (we) choose to just show parts of ourselves. It's like "I'll show you the scar from this previous bear attack I survived but I won't show you the gushing wound in my arm because I don't know how you'll react to what I'm dealing with now so I won't risk it". 

Recently in my own personal therapy session I realized that I'm usually only vulnerable in situations in which I feel power. I can be vulnerable with someone who is having a hard time if it's me "helping" them by sharing them my past struggles but I rarely if ever venture into my current challenges. Because it could make me appear weak or as if I'm not a reliable source for "help". 

Doesn't that sound silly? But I do it. A lot.  

I've been doing a lot of research with Brene Brown's work recently and this is one of the most meaningful concepts I've come across thus far:

"Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”  (Brene Brown) 

As nice as that sounds, what does it mean? I means that if people really truly knew us, knew we were real people who are currently facing struggles rather than people who have just always victoriously arose from situations, they could deeply love us. It'd make us more connected to not only a greater sense of hope but also a greater sense of connection. 

It starts with examining the why.  Why do I feel to show censored vulnerability? Why do I struggle to give a more truthful answer than "just chugging along" when someone asks how I am.  While it may feel like I'm protecting myself from hurt, in actuality, I'm preventing people from being able to truly love me because they don't truly know me.

And that feels fake. 

So here's to trying.

Here's to be more intentional even in baby steps of opening up to people fully, even if that baby step is giving a more specific answer than "just chugging along". Baby steps are me sharing that marriage is a rewarding but painful adjustment and that panic attacks make you feel powerless. 

I ran into my abuser.

I was in a store recently and I ran into my abuser.

You may or may not know that this bold, resilient, therapist of a woman was in an abusive relationship on and off for 3.5 years. Sure, I moved out one time. Sure, I blocked his number one time. Sure, I said I would never go back, but whenever he said he needed me I would always open myself back up to him. Every time I left, I felt like I was more drained of the empathetic, sweet, bold and creative parts of myself. I allowed him to make me feel as if no one would ever know me like he did and whenever I would go back, he would always say "no one knows you like I do" and "no one loves you like I do, not even your family".

I ran into my abuser recently and he did not know who I was. Let me clarify, of course he knew it was Mary Catherine because that's why he stopped me to talk to him. But he did not know the woman that I am now.  How do I know this? Because for the first time ever, I did not engage with him. I did not follow up with questions to his statements about coming back from the gym. I did not go into a long story of my engagement when he said "congrats on the engagement", I merely said "thank you".

You see for the longest time, I was caught up in a poisonous cycle with him. I craved his attention even though I knew it would drain me. It's sickening how just like trying to handle a poisonous snake, I would always get bitten. The Mary Catherine that he knew would have engaged him in conversation, but I walked away politely. Don't get me wrong, I was shaking tremendously but I hid it. For the first time I did not feel that I owed him anything. He doesn't get the pleasure of engaging in conversation with me. He doesn't get the privilege of knowing about my life. I have no desire to know how he is doing. I have no desire to engage in conversation.

I ran into my abuser recently and I don't think that he knew what to do when I walked away after politely excusing myself. How do I know this? Because 10 minutes later he tracked me down in the store and told me that he felt "snubbed" by me because I didn't talk to him more. I told him I was on the phone and he asked if I needed help reaching a rug, I said "no thank you" and I walked away. I don't think he knew who he was talking to anymore.

Recently I've started walking through trauma work in my own personal counseling and it's no coincidence that after not seeing him for almost 2 years that I run into him on the most random side of town in Columbia.

I walked away. I owe him nothing.

If you're in a situation where someone is manipulating you, isolating you, minimizing you, verbally abusing you, physically abusing you, sexually abusing you that's called abuse. It's not "an anger problem", it's abuse. It's not "calling you a b*tch because I'm frustrated", it's abuse. If you're pressure or guilted into something, it's abuse.

You are precious and important. You are not doomed to just "deal with it". I share this not for sympathy but because many people see the person I am now and could never fathom that once I was a shell of a person who felt that no one would love her, that no one could love her. I share this to encourage you that there is more.

Stop justifying the behavior, you deserve more.

10 Years.

Through the whirlwind which is an engagement and wedding within a 5-month time frame, I've been seeking to tell bits and pieces of our story through this in attempt to encourage people. However, through this, several people who have known me for a while have encouraged me to tell just how big this story goes for me. So, here it is. Here's how the Creator of the Universe weaved the last 10 years to bring me to marrying the one whom I love on May 21st, 2017. 

When applying for colleges in 2006, I wanted to go to USC because as I was comparing myself to those around me I felt it important to go to a huge University so that I could be like everyone else. Well guess what? I got wait-listed. So I decided that the next best thing would be USC Upstate. When applying to USC Upstate, in the throws of feeling convinced I would earn a degree in theatre, I decided to audition for an acting scholarship. Horray! I got it and it was because I got it that I landed a lead role in a play, which is where I met Somer (remember her, she'll come up later)....

Freshmen year I met a lot of great people who I still keep up with via social media but I was hung up on a high school fling so I decided to move back to Columbia, attend a technical college and "intern" (work for free) at the church I had been attending for several years. Well, that wasn't the most fun year but it was that year that I took my first Psychology class and realized that I wanted to be in the mental health profession. It was also that year that I got a job at a local Italian restaurant that was opening a location in Myrtle Beach. So, like the 19 year old that I was, I decided to move (against my parents' will) to Myrtle Beach to live the beach life, work with my crush (surprise surprise I had a crush on a guy who trained at my store but would be working at the Myrtle Beach store) and finally be "an adult" (*insert eye roll*).  I spent 2008 until 2011 in Myrtle Beach and it was some of the best and worst years of my life. I got involved in a local church, realized that I was capable of leading worship (after being told I wasn't good enough), decided to major in Psychology in order to be in the mental health field, met one of my Matrons of Honor and grew a tremendous amount as a woman.    

             Unfortunately, this is also the part of the story that I tell you that during those years I met a boy who would have more of a mark on my life than I would care to admit. 

While I met this guy in 2009 and he pursued me hard even then, I didn't let him take me on a date on the beginning of 2011. At that point I had spent all of my college years waiting and praying for a future husband, not dating at all. And I was done. I figured I might as well date and have fun (*insert another eye roll*).  Well this relationship went down and it went down fast. What started as sweet morphed into a controlling and emotionally abusive relationship (and while I'm breezing through this part, it's only for the sake of time). I finally got out of that relationship (or so I thought) at the end of 2011 when I moved back to Columbia and accepted a job in Dallas, TX.

January 2012 I got rid of my car, gave away my dog and boarded a one-way plane to Dallas to live in an unfurnished apartment in a city where I knew two people. I would be working for Christ for The Nations and had so much hope that just as Kari Job had emerged from there, so would I emerge into my destiny. Looking back, I did emerge from there. I just didn't emerge how I imagined I would but seeing it now I realize this too was a pivotal part of my destiny. It didn't take longer than 6ish weeks for me to lose my job with this organization, pack up my belongings and with shame head back to live with my parents.

This next part is painful, but keep reading because it's key!

It didn't take long for the shame and embarrassment that I felt from a failed adventure to manipulate me into leaving my family to live with the same man who manipulated me during our relationship. Somehow I imagined that it would be better to be with someone who "loved" me (oh the naivete!) than to face my parents in their home when I felt I had let them down. The next 10 months I spent back in Myrtle Beach back and forth in a tumultuous and destructive relationship feeling lost and missing my family ( I chose to have limited contact due to shame). Finally, in October of 2012 when the abuse had escalated from emotional and controlling behavior to throwing chairs at me and threatening to slit my throat, I packed up what could fit in my tiny car and moved back in with my parents. Two days before I moved, I started a journal to my future husband.

When I moved back to Columbia I didn't have a job nor did I have any sense of direction, so here enters my best friend since 9th grade, Elysse, to get me a seasonal job at a photography studio in the mall. Luckily for me, this mall had a Starbucks which I began to frequently visit which is how I reconnected with Somer! Remember her? I had met her 6 years prior! After spending time with Somer and giving that Starbuck a decent chunk of my paycheck, Somer informed me that one of her employees was a musician at a local church and was looking for a female worship leader. The church was Columbia Church...

In October of 2012 I began writing a journal to my future husband (which I have added entries into over the past 4+ years) not even realizing that I would meet my future husband in January 2013 

(though we didn't even speak more than 5 words to each other until August 2014 and then a lot of other stuff happened that was good and bad but that's for another time....). 

I say all of this to say that since I was 15 I believed that the person I was to marry was alive and breathing somewhere in the world. Since I was 15 (though I wasn't always diligent about it) I prayed for the mysterious man where ever he was). Since I was 15 I encouraged others around me to wait for the one who cherishes you. And now, on the other side I can see how over 10 years the Creator of the Universe weaved the most beautiful story out of such hardship for me. I can see how little details like meeting Somer or desperately needing a job or moving to Myrtle Beach to learn how to lead worship so I could lead worship at Columbia Church to meet Robbie....I can see how He truly does work all things together for His glory. 

If I had never been put on USC's waiting list...

If I'd never had a crush on that guy to move to Myrtle Beach...

If I'd never been rejected from two graduate programs...

If I'd never been let go from Christ for the Nations...

If I'd never been so broken that I had to move home...

If I'd never needed a job....

Be encouraged today. Destiny is just getting started!

Knee Surgery and Depression

When I was 16, an ulcer in my colon perforated a hole in my colon which resulted in having to have a foot of my colon removed. I was out of school from late October until January and it was a painful recovery. 

...outpatient knee surgery was worse.

When you're a teen still living at home and have any type of sickness, ailment, surgery, etc, you don't have to worry about rent or food or pets or a job. You have your parents there to help you in every aspect.  As a 26-year old enrolled in an intensive master's program, with an internship, a part time job, a pet, a boyfriend and occasionally friends, you find yourself with a lot that has to be handled or put on hold to have a surgical procedure.

Almost two weeks ago I had my meniscus and my ACL repaired. I was blessed to be able to stay with my parents and call their cellphone at 3:00 am when I needed help going to the bathroom or have them help me bathe. The week was mentally and physically challenging as they are staying in a house where my bedroom was up a flight of stairs. I often repeated "Super Mary! Super Mary!" (I blame the pain meds) to encourage myself as I grunted along every painful step  and even more often could be found calling for a parent to help me with what seemed like every task. It was a tough week but I made it.

I had no idea that the second week would be the worse...

Sunday evening I found myself in my apartment alone and Monday morning I woke up feeling the most lonely and hopeless I have ever felt. 

As a future clinical Social Worker, I am well versed in the signs and symptoms of depression. At my current internship, I work mostly with patients who are living through depression, anxiety or some cruel mixture of both. I've found myself several times dishing out coping skills to deal with these symptoms and am embarrassed to say that I've found myself on more than one occasion thinking "well I'd be depressed if I was in my pajamas all day, why don't they just take a shower and go outside?". 

At the beginning of this week, my Dad challenged me to ask the Lord what He wanted to speak to me during this time. Here's what I know: I hope to never have more empathy for those with depression than I have this past week. Maybe I'm being melodramatically (c'mon we know I usually am!), but this week has been one of the darkest I have ever experienced and I've had to walk through several dark experiences in my life. 

When Monday morning hit, I couldn't get out of bed. I was frustrated because my mind wanted to get up and go to class and resume activities but my body just couldn't. I was lonely because I had to struggle to fill my ice machine for my leg and it hurt to stand long enough to prepare myself something to eat.  I felt like a failure because I realized that I came back to be by myself too soon, I should have stayed another week and let me parents continue to help me. But I wanted to come back and now I didn't want to admit that I had made a mistake, that I wasn't yet at a place to take care of myself. My best friend brought me lunch on Monday, despite not feeling like having company at all, which is highly unlike me. 

Sunday evening, Monday and Tuesday are like a dark blur to me now. I felt so incredibly hopeless. After exhausting almost every penny to my name to pay towards the surgery and cover my rent for the month, I was left with barely a penny to my name and a broken down car. I felt like I would never recover because even when my knee healed, how would I have transportation? How would I go to my job or internship? Where would I find the motivation to finish the semester? 

During these dark couple of days I had no appetite, I slept a great majority of the day and had no desire to leave the house. I felt incredible hopeless. I could tell that my boyfriend, Robbie could see it on my face and that my parents could hear it in my voice that I was slipping away into a dark place. 

Eventually, I crawled out of bed and decided to go back to stay with my parents. I'm so grateful for a boyfriend and parents who dropped everything to get me back into a healthy place. It took me a couple days in a loving home with sunshine and homecooked meals to emerge from this terrible funk but as I emerged, I gained some valuable nuggets to take into clinical Social Work with me.

Through fire I had to put into practice coping skills that were realistic not only for a client but for me. I began to understand how much energy it takes to even get up off the couch when depression is on your shoulders and just how much of a challenge eating or stepping outside becomes. I am blessed that my episode has an ending as I will eventually fully recover, somehow I'll have transportation again and life will continue but many that suffer depression are plagued with this true illness. 

Depression is an illness.

I hope to never have days like this week but I'm grateful to have the opportunity to laugh at some of the coping skills that we learn in the classroom that would never be feasible for someone battling this disease. I'm also grateful to crawl through the coping skills that actually work.

I don't know how everything will work out after all this dust settles, but I'm grateful for a best friend, a roommate, a boyfriend and parents who reached into the pit and encouraged me to get out. 

I may not have a cent to my name or a running vehicle, but I have people who love me and a Creator who died for me. I'm going to be ok.