the susie solution

First, a word to all who read this blog. I started this blog mostly as a way to get all the words that kept tumbling ‘round and ‘round inside my head OUT of my head.  I knew my mom would read my posts and probably share the blog with her friends, if only because her “baby” wrote it – moms are like that. I expected that some of my friends would read it because, well, they’re my friends, but I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect as to whether anyone ELSE would consider it worthwhile to read.  It is validating, exhilarating, frightening and humbling to find that there are those who do.  For each of you, I am grateful.  If you like any post, the greatest compliment you can pay me is to share it with others, whether by FB, email, or print.  (However you share it, please include the link to the blog site and my name as author.)  A word of thanks also to all of you who have sent or said words of encouragement.  I treasure them.  If you particularly like some point, or especially if you particularly disagree with some point, or question a conclusion, please do comment.  I would love for this to be more interactive and less of a monologue.  Now on to the post….

A few months ago there was a letter to the editor in our local paper complaining about people in parking lots who take handicapped parking places. The writer wasn’t complaining about cars without a handicap license plate or without a placard hanging from the rearview mirror.  No, she was complaining about those who HAVE those legal permissions but who “obviously” are healthy enough that they don’t NEED to use those parking places.

This isn’t a new accusation to those guilty of that “crime.” Although they are occasionally accosted directly in parking lots, more often they find themselves the recipients of dirty looks or nasty notes left on their windshield – or are the target of letters to the editor.  The frustration is that heart conditions such as congestive heart failure, lung conditions such as cystic fibrosis, muscle conditions such as fibromyalgia, joint conditions such as arthritis, along with many other conditions, can result in a severe limitation on stamina qualifying a person to use handicapped parking, but none affect the physical appearance.  Sometimes people end up not using the space they are legally entitled to use, no matter what it costs them physically, because they get tired of people accusing them.  It’s just easier to pretend to be what people assume you are.

Recently, I have talked with both the middle school and high school youth groups at church about my journey with The Monster, from the depression that started in high school to my diagnosis with bipolar in 2010, what life has been like since and what the future likely holds. I did a FB post about having to up my bipolar meds and asking friends to please clue me in if they notice anything amiss.  In all the cases, I received statements of commendation for speaking so candidly, for being “open” and “vulnerable”.  I appreciate the intention of being supportive and encouraging.  I do, truly.

Yet the fact that my speaking of these things is deemed to merit such note is … sad. It should not have to TAKE courage to speak up about being mentally ill.  Taking head meds should require no more self-consciousness than does taking insulin.  But the fact is that we mentally ill often feel that pressure to appear “normal” because we LOOK normal.  We can be afraid to “confess” our not-normalness and be moved from the “us” category to the “them”.

I have a laundry list of physical problems – hypothyroid, fibromyalgia, migraines, to name just the ones readers are most likely to be familiar with. I have had 13 major surgeries, I lost count of the MRIs, CTs, X-rays and ER visits years ago.  I have had a number of rare conditions pop up.  If there’s a highly unlikely way to react to a drug … I’ll do it.  (Do NOT tell me odds, please – my body takes it as a challenge!)  I have to take a whole pile of pills a day to stay functional.  I speak of these conditions without hesitation because they are my physical reality. I speak freely of my mental illness because it is just as much my physical reality.

In our society, though, this speaking of mental illness that casually is still uncommon enough that it gets noticed. Sadly, our churches are often no better than society when it comes to being places where mental illness can be disclosed and discussed with the same freedom and compassion that physical illnesses are.  In some ways, churches can be even worse, because not only may mental illnesses be misunderstood, they are often misunderstood in a manner that blames the victim: to wit, if we just prayed properly, or trusted God better, or turned our troubles over to God more completely – if somehow we just did something “right”, if somehow we were better Christians, we wouldn’t be sick. It’s the ultimate betrayal of compassion.

The fact is that while mental illness PRESENTS behaviorally, it is in origin an actual physical problem.  The brain is broken, wired wonky, chemically imbalanced so that certain areas of the brain are overactive while other areas are underactive.  Some neurons are firing grapeshot, others blanks, while others are jammed.  There are lapses in the synapses.  Mental illness can no more be willed away than can diabetes.  It can no more “faithed” away than ALS.  One can no more reason a way out of it than one could reason a way out of anaphylactic shock.  We mentally ill are generally the last to recognize what is going on with us – if we are even able to at all ; even if we are able to recognize it, we are still trapped by it.  An epileptic doesn’t stop taking her medication when her seizures are under control because she is able to reason that without the medication’s influence, the seizures will return.  We mentally ill may stop taking our meds once the symptoms are under control because our disease prevents us from grasping the fact that it is ONLY the medication that is keeping the disease at bay, not that WE are “better.”  We are at the mercy of a disease for which there may be treatment, but for which there no cure. This is our frightening reality.

So how does a congregation foster an environment of openness where those with mental illness need not fear speaking freely about it? First, we can start with the way we deal generally with negative emotions – sadness, “the blues”, non-clinical depression, anxiety.  If we are a safe place for expressing these, we will be – or can easily become – a safe place for being open about mental illness as well.  We can listen without criticism and validate feelings – that is, let people feel what they feel and be honest about it.  For example, say someone comes to church in a very blue phase, is asked, “Hey, how’s it going?”, and gives an honest answer.  A cheery, “Oh, come on, things can’t be THAT bad!” or “Smile, Jesus loves you!” or “Just think about all the blessings God has given you!” or a recitation of the things the responder does to cheer themselves up, all these, while certainly intended for good, actually send the message “You are not allowed to be anything but happy at church” –  the antithesis of openness. Responses such as, “I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling so sad”, or “That must be hard on you”, or “Then I’m extra glad you came today” sends a message that it’s ok to “come as you are.”  We can go beyond assuring someone “I’m praying for you” to asking them if there is something specific we can pray about, making a very personal effort to connect.  (And it certainly helps build that connection if we remember the next time we see the person to ask about that prayer item!)

Going farther, the pastor at my current church speaks frankly of his father who committed suicide twenty years ago. Pastor Brian also has had various congregation members share with the congregation their own stories of struggling with depression; as I mentioned, our youth pastor has done likewise. (I am only one of those who spoke.)  THAT is fostering openness.  At one church, we had a mentally ill homeless man who came regularly who sat in the front row and spent most of his time rocking rapidly into a deep bow back and forth.   Sometimes he talked to himself.  There were occasional complaints about him being “distracting”, and there’s no denying his activity was outside the sanctuary standard norm, but the majority of the congregation welcomed him anyway.  Someone would always sit by him to calm him if his agitation reached extremes.  Members would greet him by name after the service.  THAT is fostering openness.  One member there had a mental breakdown and spent 6 weeks hospitalized in the psych ward.  When she came back, people didn’t avoid her in embarrassment, but simply welcomed her back as from any other hospitalization, with loving concern and care.  THAT is fostering openness.   Any time we educate ourselves so that we are prepared better for how to respond to or deal with people with mental illness, any time we acknowledge our lack of knowledge but express our desire to better understand, we are working to create an environment of openness.

When we acknowledge the reality of mental illness as matter-of-factly as we do that of physical illness we move one step closer to letting not normal be normal.

 We can all be of One Mind – even if some of us are “out” of ours.