Wonderfully Made

Today was story time at the library today. The theme was “I am special!” and we sang songs and read books about how we are all unique, special individuals. How there’s no one else like us. I thought about how wonderful it was to see kids singing about loving themselves, just because they are themselves. And then I thought about how much of that is lost as kids grow up.

I thought about our culture of fat shaming. How we are desperate to lose weight, to be like that skinny model on TV. How we are sometimes our own worst critic, and the meanest remarks about ourselves come from…ourselves. What happened? Where did that love for ourselves go?

Before story time today, my friend’s three year old asked me why my tummy was so big (kids have no filters, amiright? Haha!). I replied, “Because that’s how I am!” I could have told him it is big because it has housed and grown two beautiful babies. Or because I have little self-control when it comes to ice cream. Or because I can’t get the time in the mornings to work out like I’d like to. But honestly, those are just excuses. And right now, in this very moment, I have a big tummy. And I am ok with that. I accept my big tummy, with its silvery stretch marks. That doesn’t mean I have no desire to be healthier. But I don’t have to hate myself-or hate on myself-in order for me to have the drive and desire to get healthy.

I am special. Of course the Bible mentions this too. “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Wonderfully made. How often do we think of ourselves as “wonderfully made?” What joyful freedom there is in remembering that we are wonderfully made, in the image of God Himself! And not just our looks, but our personalities, our laugh, our emotions. Wonderfully made.

My daughter is four months old, and as she grows older I want her to believe that she is beautiful, and wonderful, and special. Not because of a number on a scale or the size clothes she can wear, but because she is herself. Because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. Yet, how can I instill this in her, and be full of hatred for myself? No, I must learn to love and accept me, the way I am. Not just for my daughter’s sake, but for my own sake as well. I encourage you to do the same.

It is also important to remember that when we spew hate-speech at ourselves, we are talking to God’s beloved creation. That is not ok. So I challenge you, as you look in the mirror this week, to speak kind words to yourself. Work on thinking positively about your body. Start to accept yourself, just the way you are. Doesn’t mean you can’t want to change. After all, we should be taking care of this body that God has entrusted us with. But at the end of the day, negative self-talk isn’t going to take care of our bodies any more than a double cheeseburger and super size coke will. And if we see ourselves as worthless garbage, we’re not going to be very inspired to try and change that. The beauty of our God is that He accepts us just as we are. And we should too.

And for the record, I wrote this post while devouring a giant turtle ice cream bar. And it was delicious.  

Guilt, Anger, and Crazy: Finding the Courage to Face Depression

My husband and I had been married a little over one year when things changed. Drastically. We had our first child. One month later, he started a new job. We moved to a new town, far, far away from family and friends.  I joked that it was the “perfect recipe” for a crisis situation. But I was fine, I said. Sure, the adjustment was hard, but I’m strong! I’m resilient! I’m flexible! I made it work. Or so I thought.

When my son was 9 months old, we found out we were expecting again, a total surprise. But I got this! I love having babies! But the pregnancy was harder this time, since I had a toddler to chase around. Things were rocky in my relationship with my husband, but we would manage. We would get through this! But slowly, as things got worse and worse, I found myself thinking they would never get better. I struggled to be there for my husband and son. I no longer had the desire to be a wife or mother.

After the birth of our sweet little girl, I was still in denial of how bad things were. But slowly I realized they were getting worse; I was getting worse. I couldn’t keep up with housework at all. Dishes would sit on the counter and mold. Laundry would never get done. I stopped cooking dinner. I would get up in the morning to make us some breakfast, and then lay on the couch watching TV. I wanted to stop breastfeeding, for no real reason. I couldn’t keep up with diaper laundry, and we switched to disposables. Things I used to identify with so much, that used to define me as a mom, I was abandoning. I was addicted to my iPhone, constantly playing games or on Facebook. It was my escape from the painful reality. I also had uncontrollable rage. The littlest things would set me off on my husband or my son. Overreacting is an understatement.

Finally, I realized this was NOT normal. I stated looking at symptoms of Postpartum Depression. They seemed to fit, mostly. My husband and I talked about it, and I decided to see a Christian counselor. Being kind of a “crunchy” mom, I was pretty opposed to medicine. I told myself if I could just do yoga, and go for walks, and drink water and eat right, I would get better. I wasn’t even sure I was dealing with depression. I still felt like it was entirely my fault for being worthless and lazy.

Meeting with a therapist is what really helped me come to terms with my illness. Hearing someone else say, “This is not just in your head, you are dealing with some serious stuff, and it’s ok. We’ll work through it together” was a cool wave of relief. Suddenly I wasn’t just “crazy.” Here was someone on my team, willing to listen and help.

I had only met with my counselor twice before my father was involved in a serious bicycle accident. I spent a few weeks up with my family, and during that time my attitude about medication changed. I realized this wasn’t just “postpartum” depression, this was an ongoing depression I was just now noticing. I wanted to feel better. I needed to feel better. I made an appointment with my doctor, and after much thought and discussion with friends, family, and therapist, I decided to take the medication.

I have been dealing with depression for almost two years now. But it was only recently that I realized and sought treatment. As a nurse, I knew all the warning signs of depression. But I thought I was just lazy. I was filled with guilt over what a horrible wife and mother I was. Coming out of the fog of depression, I am shocked to see just how bad my depression was, and how blind I was to it. I still have bad days and good days. But the good days are slowly starting to outweigh the bad. I have a renewed commitment to my marriage, and I finally have the energy to be a parent and do the housework. Most important, I have the energy in the morning to do a quiet time and spend some time in the sweet presence of The Lord.

Though I’m still slowly climbing out of my depression, I want to share some things I’ve learned with my sisters who may be struggling.

1.     Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not “spiritual enough.”

Can faith in God cure depression? Sure. Just like He can cure cancer, bicycle accident injuries, and the common cold. Depression is a disease. If you would seek treatment for a physical condition like say, diabetes, there is no reason to not seek treatment for a mental condition (And I don’t mean to just medication. There are lots of non-pharmaceutical treatments for depression that can be very effective).

2.     You deserve to feel better

You are a beloved daughter of the King. He LOVES you, and me. Do you think for one second that He wants you to be drowning in sea of worthlessness and guilt? And you don’t just deserve to feel better just so you can be a better wife and mom. You are made in the image of God, and you bear His mark. YOU are enough reason to seek healing.

3.     It will get better. I am still struggling to believe this, but I have to keep reminding myself of this truth. Things will not always be like this. God allows us to go through fiery trials to grow us, to prune off the dead branches, to make us more like Him. It hurts. But in the end it is for our benefit, and His glory.

Dear sister, if you are suffering in depression, you are not alone. Speak out. Talk to a trusted friend, find a Christian therapist who is trained in dealing with mental illness, join a support group. If you hear nothing else I say, hear this: You are worthy of help. You do not have to struggle alone. And there is hope in Him.