My 'Long Obedience' in Depression

In Companions in the Darkness (which releases in about a month), I share a bit of my own story with depression along with the tales from church history. When you open up your own life like that in a public space, it invites questions. What was that like for you? How did your community respond? Did they contribute to your mental health struggles? What could they have done differently? In private conversation, I’m happy to share frankly about some of these things. In public, I feel a tension between honesty (because we are inclined to cover up too much about mental health as it is) and not wanting my words to be twisted to bash or overly-harshly criticize spaces and communities of which I’ve been a part. I just don’t find that to be beneficial at this point.

In the book, a lot of what I share about my own depression is in the past tense. This is in large part because the deepest and most debilitating seasons of depression in my life are, at least at this moment, in the past. But I’ve realized as I’m involved in interviews and writing opportunities about the book, that it would be disingenuous to paint a story that casts depression as only a part of my history. Sure, I don’t struggle to get out of bed most days. I don’t want my life to end. I can find enjoyment and delight in people and places and moments. I am not under depression’s smothering grip. But this doesn’t mean it’s not a part of my life.

I have found it helpful to think of depression and other mental health struggles like I do other physical illnesses and conditions. Let’s compare it to something like heart disease or diabetes or cancer (or take your pick of any other host of ailments or chronic illnesses). Some people, by virtue of genetics and pure luck, can waltz through life giving no concern about some of these conditions.

Most of us, though, know we have a proclivity to one of these problems. Maybe we have a family history of high cholesterol. Maybe we’ve had cancer in the past. Whatever the case, we know it’s something we need to keep an eye on. It may not be a fully present, crisis-mode problem all the time (Lord, willing). But we know we need to pay attention to our lifestyle in order to support our good health. We know we need to keep an eye out for warning signs that something might be wrong. And then sometimes, even with the best of intentions and efforts, our bodies react outside of our control and we find ourselves in dire need of help.

I know I have a proclivity toward depression. I’ve seen it in my life in the past. I’ve seen its darkness build. I’ve felt its weight. And I know that there is a decent chance I may experience it in a deeper form again. But in this middle land, where I’m fairly stable and functioning well, not in need of medication, and able to enjoy life—I know it’s still there in the background. Sometimes I forget it’s there. It’s like a hazy memory, a bad dream. Other times, particularly when life is painful and emotional stress is high, I can sense its shadow, can feel its icy talons trying to tighten their grip. Depression may not be fully or debilitatingly present, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

As with other health problems, I know there is some level of powerlessness I have in ensuring I never endure depression in its fullness again. Our bodies break down. So do our brains. And to some extent, there’s no way to fully protect ourselves from this. We are human after all.

But there is a lot I can do to do my part to stay healthy, to care for myself, to give my brain and my body the best chance they’ve got. Part of my own recovery has been learning some of these tools and strategies. I know I need to get good rest. I know I need to reach out to friends, even if it’s remotely, to talk and laugh and process. I know I need physical things to pull me out of my own head and use my body, whether that be gardening or walking or even simply sitting outside in the sun. I know I need to build delight into my life, even in the smallest forms. I know I need to care for my soul—to find and embrace spaces and practices that bring spiritual refreshment and encouragement. I know I need to find ways to laugh, even when (especially when) life mostly makes me want to cry. I do these things not only because they’re generally good practices. I do them also because I know that depression is still there, in wait for when I become vulnerable.

Eugene Peterson famously referred to discipleship as a “long obedience in the same direction.” I think this is also an apt phrase to describe life with (or a proclivity toward) mental illness. It’s a “long obedience” of self-care to do your part in prevention. It’s a “long obedience” of doing the work in therapy. It’s a “long obedience” of taking your meds every day. It’s a “long obedience” of choosing life each day, no matter how messy or difficult. I move in the right direction as I care for myself, and pay attention to my own vulnerability—and I move in the right direction when I admit when I need help and seek out whatever that help may be.

The reality of depression is a part of my long obedience. It’s something in my past, yes, but it’s also something in my present. And God will be no less faithful (and no less pleased with me) if it is part of my future.

Paying Attention (On Redbud Post)

I’m delighted to be featured in the Redbud Post this month. I share there about how depression taught me the value of paying attention and grounding myself in the present moment—and how that practice has brought refreshing to my heart in many seasons since.

Here’s a little snippet:

“I remember how I would pause with my morning coffee. I wrapped my hands around the body of my mug, the curve of the handle the perfect size through which to lace my fingers. I noticed the smooth pottery, the way it felt as the warmth pressed into my hands on the crisp morning. I watched the lazy swirl of steam escaping in curling wisps into the air. I felt my feet resting on the floor and considered the often-overlooked feeling of my feet pressing on the carpet and the floor pushing back, holding me in place. The wooden chair was hard, standard dormitory issue, but it too kept me in place. I sat, paying attention, rooted, just for a moment, in physical space and time. Inhale—the feeling of my chest swelling with air. Exhale—the release, my shoulders sinking down, down, down, releasing a breath’s worth of tension. This is what it feels like to be alive, I thought. I am here. I am alive. And, for one tangible moment, that was enough.”

Read “The Practice of Paying Attention” At Redbud Post

Ten Essential Marriage Habits

Guest Post By Dorothy Greco

As the author of two marriage books, people routinely ask me for a short list of ideas for how to keep their marriages strong and satisfying. I’m not necessarily keen on relational to-do lists, but I do believe that developing these habits will help you to have a mutually-satisfying marriage.

1. Hone your communication skills. First, don’t talk more than you’re willing to  listen. If you’re an extrovert married to an introvert, you may need to stop talking before you feel done so that your spouse has space to process and respond. Additionally, strive to become tender-hearted truth tellers. As I write in Marriage in the Middle, being a truth teller does not mean “giving voice to every stray thought that drifts through our mind. There’s Twitter for that.” Our feelings can sometimes be vindictive, mean-spirited, and unhelpful. In those moments, it’s better to stay quiet.
   

2. Take responsibility for your contribution to marital issues rather than blaming your spouse. Remember Jesus’s message in the Sermon on the Mount about removing the log in your own eye before trying to take out the speck in someone else’s? Ask yourself  “How or what did I bring to this disagreement or impasse?” Typically, both partners contribute to relational dynamics. When you blow it, own it and humbly apologize.
   

3. Forgive quickly and thoroughly. Little things can gradually become big things if they are not processed and forgiven. Don’t forget to actually vocalize I forgive you when your spouse apologizes. And remember, forgiveness is neither optional nor dependent on our feelings. (The call to forgive does not mean that we should overlook abuse. If that’s an issue, please reach out for professional help.)
   

4. Commit to grow: both individually and together. God created us to keep learning throughout our entire lives. In fact, we have to make a conscious choice not to grow! We recently hosted a marriage conference and discovered one couple was celebrating their 50th anniversary that weekend. When I asked why they came, the octogenarian husband said, “There’s more for us. Let’s go!” I want to have that attitude when I’m his age!
   

5. Develop and maintain healthy friendships. No matter how awesome you are, you will not be able to meet all of your spouse’s needs. Though some needs can only be met in the confines of marriage (like sex), having healthy friendships and being part of a healthy community eases our burdens and supports us when life gets hard.
   

6. Live and love sacrificially. Sometimes major sacrifices are easier than smaller, everyday ones. As I’ve aged, my sleep has gotten worse which means my husband needs to get up a bit earlier than he prefers so he can walk the dog before going to work. This is no small thing when it’s 0’dark thirty and the temperature is well below freezing. These little acts of sacrificial love become equity that we can draw on when life gets complicated.
   

7. Develop shared leisure activities. A commonly stated reason for divorce is “we grew apart.” We can avoid that by intentionally strengthening the bond between us. Ten years ago, I bought a used double kayak for our anniversary. Initially, Christopher was aghast as we were on a tight budget. But after getting out on the river a few times, he was hooked. Since the pandemic hit, we’ve been going for long walks and watching The Crown. Connecting while having fun should be non-negotiable and prioritized.
   

8. Figure out how you can serve together. Every marriage is uniquely poised to serve the larger world. Maybe it’s volunteering in an animal shelter or food pantry. Maybe it’s doing a Habitat for Humanity building project. Christopher and I have been doing a midweek-service at the local men’s prison for the past three years. The options are endless! Being missional takes your focus off any  minor annoyances and puts you in a context to work together.
   

9. Speak words of blessing and encouragement to each other on a regular basis. Let’s face it. We can all get discouraged from time to time. Because we know our spouse’s strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else, our words can build up or tear down. When your spouse has done something well, tell them how much you appreciate them. And be specific! Thanks! is good but I’m so grateful that you noticed my tires needed to be rotated and took care of that for me. I feel loved, has more payoff.  
   

10. Pray for and with each other. We all know how important this is and probably, many of us struggle to consistently do it. Praying together fortifies and unites us in a way that nothing else can. If this has been a struggle, don’t give up! Set the bar low. Aim for sixty second each morning or each evening. Some prayer is better than none.
    

Have your own essentials that I missed? Please share them with us. If you comment or share one of your ideas for keeping your marriage strong, you could win an autographed copy of Marriage in the Middle.

Dorothy Littell Greco is the author of Making Marriage Beautiful and the newly released Marriage the Middle: Embracing Midlife Surprises, Challenges, and Joys.  She also works as a professional photographer. You can find more of her work on her website: DorothyGreco.com.

What Not To Say to Someone Who Is Suffering

We’re living through a season in which many of us are experiencing pain. It may be the the pain of physical illness, conflict, grief, uncertainty, job loss, ongoing racism, mental illness, or any other host of problems. These days, the list feels far too long. If you are feeling the weight of that pain today - you aren’t alone.

I’ve found that though pain is a universal human experience, most of us are innately bad at knowing how to handle it. We tend to be particularly bad when it comes to our words. In spite of any good intentions, we can do a great deal of harm in how we response when someone shares their pain.

Because it is such a pressing need, I’m reposting this guide from a few years ago about what not to say to someone who is suffering. May it help us all be better helpers and comforters during this season.

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When someone shares a painful circumstance with us, our response is an opportunity to minister comfort and love. We can incarnate the love of God to people in pain. This is usually our intention—to be helpful and comforting. Our intentions are good. But we often fall (far) short of them. Our words, in spite of our best intentions, can easily offer only cold comfort and further wounding. 

I know I’ve had moments walking away from a struggling friend thinking, “I shouldn’t have said that.” I’m sure you can relate. We must be aware of our words, aware that our gut-instinct response might not be the most helpful. 

I’ve compiled a list of common bad responses to people in pain. I’m sure we could all add a couple more from our own experiences (or missteps). I encourage you to read through them carefully and take note of the ones you’re prone to. Take some time to reflect on why you respond this way—is it your own fear? Your discomfort with pain? Then consider how you could respond differently the next time you’re in a similar situation.

Don’t…

• Speak for God in explaining why He’s allowing this pain. (Ex: God must have needed your (dead) loved one more than you did.) - Attempting to provide answers to the “why?” question of pain typically falls short both emotionally and theologically—and you cannot know for certain why God allows things to happen. Attempts at explaining the pain also often bring a tone of criticism or blame.
  
  
  

• Suggest an enhanced spirituality is the key to alleviating pain (Just pray more; Just have more faith; etc.). - Pain is a part of the human condition in a fallen world. Our spirituality does not provide a solution to every pain or struggle. We follow a crucified Lord, and our lives sometimes lead us through pain. We do not follow a gospel of “emotional prosperity” (Gay Hubbard’s term) but a promise of strength in weakness and joy in the midst of pain. These statements (just pray more, etc.) also heap on blame, as if the experience of pain is the person’s fault by lack of piety.
  
  
  

• Say “I completely understand.” - Even with the utmost empathy, there is no way we can completely understand. Each person experiences painful circumstances in different ways. And, usually, when we say this, we do not actually even begin to understand.
  
  
  

• Tell stories about your “same” experience or that of someone you know. - I don’t need to hear about your aunt’s-second-cousin’s-best-friend’s experience with cancer. Although well-intentioned, these stories can easily lead to increased fear and intensified pain. Reporting your own experience typically becomes an act of talking-about, not sharing-in someone’s pain.
  
  
  

• Catastrophize their painful experience, asking for morbid repetitions of their circumstances and emotions, or tell them how what they’re experiencing is the worst thing ever. - Any questioning and prodding that comes with little vision for healing, growth, and redemption leads to an increased sense of hopelessness, intensifying of pain, and increased fear. Exaggeration is not helpful.
  
  
  

• Try to solve the “problem.” - Responding to another’s pain as a problem with a simple solution is never helpful. Pain is much more complex than this. There is a time and place for problem solving during some painful circumstances, but do not volunteer yourself to be the fixer. This includes things like thrusting books into people’s hands, telling them the exact diet/medical treatment plan they must pursue, forcing them to attend groups/events they might not be ready for, etc. Do not engage in problem-solving or “fixing” attempts unless you have been specifically asked for these services.
  
  
  

• Start a statement with “At least…” - These statements almost universally undermine the person’s experience and implicitly suggests they shouldn’t be feeling the way they do. Catch yourself when you hear your response starting with these little words.
  
  
  

• Attempt to be a mind reader. - Ask good questions to understand what they’re feeling and experiencing. Don’t assume you know.
  
  
  

• Say “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” - I do not see this promised in Scripture. (This statement seems to be a misapplication of 1 Cor. 10:13, which is talking not about pain, but about God providing ways out in temptation.) God will sometimes give us more than we can handle—we will be weak and, humanly speaking, falling apart. But He has promised that His strength is perfect in our weakness. We’re weak. He’s strong. It’s more than we can handle—but it’s not more than He can handle. His strength gives us what we need to keep going. (see 2 Cor. 12:7-10)
  
  
  

• Say “It must be God’s will. You just have to have faith.” - This is true in the sense that we can trust in the goodness, sovereignty, and power of our loving Father. However, it’s of little comfort and typically sounds more like “Grin and bear it, oh you of little faith.” It also opens up theological questions of whether or not the painful results of sin and a broken world are in fact “God’s will” (for example, the death of a child, or the pain inflicted by someone else’s sin). I have rarely seen such deep theological waters to be an effective pain reliever.
  
  
  

• Say “You need to just turn it over to the Lord.” - It is true that we can and should entrust our pains to the Lord. This does not mean the painful circumstances disappear. This statement typically communicates that if you’re still struggling or in pain, you haven’t actually turned your troubles over to the Lord.
  
  
  

• Tell the person how to feel. - Any time you begin a phrase with “You should be…”, for example, after someone has passed away: “You should be grateful you had so much time with them,” or to an infertile couple, “You should be glad you have so much time together without a baby.” These types of statements suggest their pain is illogical or ill-grounded.
  
  
  

• Offer empty assurances. - Do not make a promise you can’t keep or aren’t sure of. Just because you would like it to be true, doesn’t mean it will be true. (Ex: I’m sure God will heal you; I’m sure you’ll have a baby; I’m sure you’ll find a good job.)
  
  
  

• Try to distract and entertain away the pain. - Some level of distraction can be a helpful respite in the midst of a painful season, but attempts to entertain away pain (as if it will disappear if we just don’t pay attention to it), are unrealistic and unhelpful. The presence of laughter does not mean the absence of pain. Laughter and distraction are valuable—but not when they become tools of denial.
  
  

At the end of such a list (with perhaps a few examples that sound a bit too familiar in your own voice), we can easily say “Well, then, what am I supposed to say?!” Read more about helpful ways to comfort someone in pain here. Hint: It may not actually involve that much talking on your part.

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This post originally appeared on May 3, 2017, and is part of a series on ministering to people in pain. Click here to see all the posts in this series.

Vulnerability Begets Vulnerability

My natural inclination is to maintain the illusion that I have it all together. I would prefer people to look on and see someone who is confident, competent, and self-assured. I would prefer them to see my successes, to perceive perfection, to find no cracks in the facade.

Of course, reality is far from this image I would care to project. My house is not perfectly clean. I get stains on my clothes. I still cannot write words like “maintenance” without verifying their spelling. My child is not always perfectly behaved, and, if I’m honest, neither am I. There are some issues or struggles I have more questions about than answers. I wrestle with self-doubt and impostor syndrome, and there are days when simple things provoke stress and anxiety. And this just scratches the surface. I don’t even fully succeed at consistently admitting my imperfections.

I do not have it all together. And I’ve found that I’m not the only one who benefits when I admit and embrace that fact.

Somewhere along the line, I came to believe that I was best able to help people if I didn’t struggle myself. I assumed confidence would invite people to trust me. But in practice, projected perfection alienates more than it invites. When I need someone to confide in, I want someone who understands. I want someone who can empathize with my weakness, someone who can relate to my pain. I need someone with scars. And other people do as well.

I wrote a book about depression. In it, I share some of my own story, some of my own pain and doubt and darkness. At one time, I would have found that vulnerability to be terrifying, but not any more. Because what I have seen is this: the most common voices I hear when I share my own struggles are not those of criticism and shame, but rather ones who say, “me too.” I’ve seen it play out time and time again: vulnerability begets vulnerability. When I muster up the courage to share my story and my struggles, I see other people find the courage to share theirs as well. Leading with vulnerability creates a safe space for others to enter into, and in that safe space we can take a small step toward healing together.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t need to be discerning about when, what, and to whom we share. The reality is that there are some people with whom it is not “safe” to share our most raw pain. There are also times when we aren’t ready to fully disclose a painful season we’re still in the midst of.* And there are some details we may not find appropriate to share with everyone. But these factors are a call for discernment, not for complete silence, and not for faking perfection. Even if you aren’t fully able to share, even the smallest hint or comment, even being slightly more vulnerable than you would be inclined to be, may be enough to give someone else who’s struggling the indication that you’re someone they can trust, someone else who has been (or still is) where they are.

I do not have it all together. And I can confidently say, neither do you. So admit it. And share your story. Yours may just be the story someone else needs to hear.

*As a writer, I once received what I have found in my own experience to be great advice: Be careful what you share publicly about a painful circumstance you’re still currently in the midst of. Don’t share fully (or possibly at all) publicly until you’ve come to enough resolution of your pain that you don’t need your readers to be your therapist and you will not be deeply affected emotionally based on their response (or lack of one). In that season, I wrote privately, and I shared honestly with trusted friends and briefly with those I was acquainted with, but I waited to write/speak publicly until I was in a more stable place.