How Many Tears? (Thoughts in Depression #1)

How many tears, Lord?

How many tears until you let me stop?

They come uninvited and unwanted.

They come without known reason.

I hurt inside and out.

Physical pain isn't enough to cause this.

I am in agony inside.

My body chooses what my mind doesn't want.

Others don't understand.

"Cheer up," I hear from them.

"Speak positive" say the well-meaning

Even when positive would be a lie.

I tell my body, "you are blessed."

I try to convince it I'm OK.

It refuses to heed my command.

It reacts the way I don't want.

You collect my tears in jars, You said, Lord.

Those who sow in tears will reap in joy.

How many tears, Lord, until that time?

How much more do I bear?

"Be not anxious," says the preacher of Your word.

"I will invoke fight-or-flight anyhow!" my body says.

"Perfect love casts our fear," the pastor insists.

So why does my body betray me?

That which I do not want, my body does

And the righteous condemn my soul for it.

How many more tears, Lord, will they cause

Before they choose to accept my condition?

The condition is medical, I'm told.

People refuse to accept that.

The tears come anyway

And they continue through dryness.

How many tears, Lord, are enough?

Are your jars still in need?

I long for peace and rest.

Though it seems so far away.

How many tears, Lord, until I may stop?

How much more pain do I need?

I give it to You, but it returns as Sisyphus' rock.

How many more tears?

He Was Always In Character. I Never Really Knew Him.

Many of us are still stunned by the passing of Robin Williams, gifted comedian and actor. What many people cannot seem to understand, though, is his method of passing: suicide.

So many people cannot comprehend someone wishing to end his own life.

As someone who had a gun to his head at the age of 10, I understand. In fact, when I read the article linked above, I saw the key to Mr. Williams' issue.

"He was always in character — you never saw the real Robin," said Jamie Masada, founder and chief executive of the Laugh Factory. "I knew him 35 years, and I never knew him."

"He was always in character." That typifies the kind of person who feels insecure around other people. It doesn't matter if the others liked him, loved him, or hated him. In his mind he wasn't loveable as he was, so he had to act like a likeable person.

Oh, sure, there are people with egos the size of solar systems who could use some lessons in this type of acting, except that one really cannot act humble if they aren't. It may fool some people some times, but eventually the act breaks, and the real person shows up. For the egotist, that rarely leaves a good impression, but it makes for great celeb gossip.

Then there are those who are afraid, who hide behind an act of ad-libbed self-confidence as they panic inside. Eventually this drains a person. They want to stop acting, but they don't know how. They want to be themselves, but even they don't know who that is anymore. They can no longer cope by hiding, but they certainly cannot cope with not hiding.

So they run.

Sometimes they run to alcohol. Sometimes it's cocaine or heroin. Even those fail, though.

That leaves only one last great escape: suicide. The final escape from a life of hell.

It may not seem to fit his character, but deep down that's all that is left of such a person.

Since I'm one of the same kind of person, I could see it in Williams' eyes even when he "na-noo'ed" with the future wife of Mark Harmon. You could see it in his mouth even on camera: a tension, a fear, a sense that he was being strong not just for the camera, but for everyone around him. I wonder if he cried alone as much as I have.

Many well-meaning people try to help. They've told me to cheer up, to "speak positive into your life,"to "count your blessings." They don't understand that those phrases can actually hurt more than help. All of them, in one way or another, tell people like me that we're not doing something right, that we're not good enough for them unless we add to our act. It doesn't work! We can act positive, sure, but for us it would be as much of a lie as the rest of our public lives.

Please, if you cannot understand how someone can want to commit suicide, don't dismiss it, don't condemn it! We cannot understand how life can be considered "precious" when it's so hard. Accept us just as we are! We might not be able to comprehend how anyone can do that, but it does get in. Whatever you do, though, never say something that may cause us to distrust your caring. You may never be believed again.

Now, having said all this, I'm not as far gone as I might sound. I do have days when I'm glad to be alive. Sometimes that even overrides the times when I do something so stupid that I hurt one I care about, and I hate myself all over again, edging back toward bringing the act back until I cannot hold it in again. I do have trust in God, though I still get depressed, as many Biblical figures did. That's OK! If a dear friend cannot agree with that, then so be it. Their problem. I'm me, take it or leave it.

The Threat Behind Obedience, Responsibility, Accountability, and All That Jazz

(Note: this was one of the first items I wrote for this blog/journal. I've kept it in "draft" mode because I felt like it was becoming more of a place for notes for future writing. I believe God has told me to just go ahead and publish it, as-is.)

I've always had a hard time with the mega-emphasis some preachers give to obedience. That's obedience to God, not to themselves, although I've seen too many of those as well. Going hand-in-hand with this kind of teaching you'll often find the words "responsibility" and "accountability." From what I've been able to figure out, God gives His children responsibilities, whether we want them or not, and we are expected to obey His commands or demands in fulfilling those responsibilities,

Why do people agree with, and even support, this stuff?

I prayed this morning, and God showed me some things. I was never a rebel. I didn't push the limits to see just how far I'd be allowed to go. I was afraid to. I was also wrapped up in a non-religious counterpart to legalism, which I can only call the "supposed-to's." You were "supposed to" do this, or "supposed to" do that. You were "supposed to" lie to a person's face so they wouldn't feel bad, but talking behind their back was fair game.

The problem with the "supposed-to's" is that there was obedience, responsibility, and accountability, but no grace, no forgiveness, and no questioning the rules. The rules were never written down, even; you were "supposed to" know them, and there was no excuse for not knowing. Who came up with the rules? I suppose you weren't "supposed to" know, because nobody claimed that one, and everybody claimed that one at the same time.

Since most people do whatever they can get away with, I guess the "supposed-to's" were "supposed to" keep people in line. The veiled threat behind missing one of the "supposed-to's" was ever-present, but never well-defined. I recall several times where I'd hit myself until I was red in the face (I had hoped to bleed, actually) to inflict punishment on myself for missing a "supposed-to." I couldn't stand the wait for the real punishment to come about, however it did that.

How would one be punished? It could be a storm knocking out the power for hours. It could be any sort of random event that made life uncomfortable or "unbearable." It could also be direct punishment from one of my parents, but usually it was something else. I didn't believe in God at the time, but I knew there was "something" or "someone" "up there" who was ready to get me for failing.

No grace.

No mercy.

No excuses!

Oh, and no instructions, either. You're "supposed to" know that, too.

Also no rewards. Just lack of punishment.

With that kind of mind-set, "accountability" was ever-present. You couldn't run. You couldn't hide. You couldn't get away with anything. The only thing worse than missing out on one of the "supposed-to's" was being caught by someone else, who would torment you on their own, above and beyond the "god of the supposed-to's." There were no rewards, only a break in the punishment. Oh, something bad happened? Obviously you were "supposed to" do something you didn't do, or you did something you weren't "supposed to." What was it? You're "supposed to" know that!

This "god of the supposed-to's" was an idol, but one that wasn't desired or wanted, only feared.

I recall when my parents and I moved to Florida. It was an almost 1,000 mile drive from Maryland  to Florida, mostly on Interstate 95. A U-Haul led the convoy, followed by my red '78 Ford Fiesta, followed by Mom driving the family's white Fiesta, and my grandfather in his white Fiesta serving as our "back door." I dutifully followed the 55 mph speed limit, like I was "supposed to," while my mother was constantly on the CB (which should tell you how long ago this was) nagging me to keep up with Pop in the U-Haul. That freaked me out. I was "supposed to" stay at the speed limit, but I was also "supposed to" keep up in such a way that we "didn't lose" the U-Haul. The idea that Pop could've slowed down and allowed us to catch up without breaking the speed limit was not an option. I had two "supposed-to's" that I couldn't keep at the same time, even though I was "supposed to."

I'm 52 now, and I'm still haunted by the "supposed-to's." A preacher once told us that married couples were "supposed to" have children, that doing so -- by adoption if not by birth -- was a command from God that we had to obey! By that time I was married, but we couldn't have children of our own, which was fine by me because I didn't want to mess up any kids in the way I was messed up as a kid. That meant being child-free was willful disobedience, which was sin of the worst kind. Speaking to the pastor afterward didn't provide any escape or comfort or mercy.

As a result, I assumed I couldn't be accepted by God. I assumed God was "supposed to" depart from me, in spite of Biblical promises to the contrary.

I'm slowly recovering from that big damage, but I'm also having to deal with the return of the bitter, angry, unforgiving, unrelenting angry "god of the supposed-to's."

I'm starting to realize now, thanks to some statements Pastor Tullian Tchividjian wrote in his book, Jesus + Nothing = Everything, that the heavy emphasis on obedience, accountability, and responsibility might come from those who weren't damaged by the "god of the supposed-to's," that legalistic, unforgiving entity that was eager to punish and torment over every little thing. It would explain why I've never been able to understand why everybody has to have an accountability partner. Why would I need another tormenter?