Best Kept Secret

Since 2007, I have been openly speaking about my struggles with depression.  It has been a lifelong battle and quite destructive to my health over the last ten years or so.  I have been asked by many medical professionals over the years why I refused to talk about it with friends and family and those that would normally comprise a support group.  The truthful answer to that question is shame.  I love my family and friends; however, being raised in a somewhat old fashioned family, one was not allowed to “air” their dirty laundry.  To compound that challenge, I wasn’t always fortunate to attend a church with an open mind. 

One of my favorite quotes of all time is “Faith makes things possible…not easy.”  This is such a true statement and I have tried to apply it to every aspect and endeavor in my life.  Faith is about trusting in the unseen and realizing that God will deliver us from our pain and strife.  The scriptures clearly state in Revelation there will be no more tears in Heaven.  Peter writes in 1 Peter 4:12 that we should not be surprised that we suffer as Christians.  It is evident that we will feel emotional pain in this life and sometimes for various reasons it takes heavier tolls on one person than it does another.  During my young and impressionable years I was taught over and over in the church that Christians should never be weak in their faith.  Emotional problems were frowned upon and it was not seen as a medical issue.  This frustrated me then and still does that some Christians don’t understand depression is not a weakness in our faith in God. It is a chemical imbalance.  A person battling a mental illness can have just as much faith in the Father as the next.  I have found that through my illness I have grown closer to God.  I need Him more and feel more connected now that I worship in an open and loving congregation than I ever did when I was dodging fire and brimstone constantly.

When society looks down upon people who are “different” in any way, it is an injustice to the person suffering the illness and it is nothing more than judgment by the person or group of people establishing the stereotypes.  How ignorant is the person who lives in a glass house and throws stones?  Don’t we all have things about ourselves we wish we could improve or change?

As I look back at the many years I hid my pain and suffering I think it was really the worst kept secret of my life.  When colleagues see your Jekyl and Hyde behavior on a daily basis or loved ones find you crying in the dark for no apparent reason or friends wonder on any given day whether you will be on a high or a low; is there any doubt a problem exists?  Is there really a secret being kept?  If the secret is kept so you will avoid the judgment of others, when it kills you, will the avoiding the shame be worth the consequence paid?

As an advocate for emotional wellness, I strive to empower those who suffer depression and its related ailments.  Take control of your situation and who you are.  For those who would judge rather than reach out or support someone who faces struggles, I say the shame is on you.  For many years my own mother called my bipolar disease, “your other little problem.”  She begged me not to tell my grandmother or others that I was taking Prozac and Lithium.  It took me a long time to convince her that regardless of the fact that I am a man with testosterone and testicles, I do feel emotional pain.  I had to convince her and myself that it no longer mattered what people thought.  When a man goes so far as taking up mountain biking and instead of for the purpose of health, but  with the intention of riding off the side of Mt. Cheaha making his death look like an accident rather than suicide, it’s time for a wakeup call and the realization that judgmental people matter not!

I have been suffering a great deal in the last ten days or so.  It’s one of those rapid cycling phases I have to endure.  An acquaintance I have known for some 15 years passed away from an accidental overdose of pain killers.  She lost her job, then her husband, then her home.  I knew she was in bad shape emotionally and I kept thinking as one of our mutual friends gave me updates that I needed to reach out to her.  I needed to do something, but I never did.  I won’t make that mistake again with anyone I know, love, or even just hear about.  I pray for everyone out there who is struggling with a “best kept secret.”  Please don’t ignore your problem for fear of judgment.  Depression is no more a sign of weakness in faith than a person who overeats every day.  Stronger faith is certainly a step in the right direction just as with any illness.  In the letter to the Hebrews, chapter eleven, verse six says, “And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.”

In addition to strengthening our faith and talking about our issues, medical help is necessary.  It doesn’t always have to mean the dreaded Prozac or other scripts.  The medical community is making great strides in treating the various mental and emotional illnesses.  The point is there is help in some form.  The hurt however, is being sedentary and feeling ashamed.  Take it from me, Rob Goodwin who spent much of his life worried to death, almost literally, about his reputation.  You just have to overlook the judgmental people, even family, friends, or brethren in Christ.  Even if your pain is so strong that you don’t love yourself enough to get help, think of those who might be wondering what could they have done after the fact, if something happens to you.  Like me, you will be surprised how many people already recognized there was a problem and that your best kept secret, wasn’t really a secret at all.

God bless us all.

God Dwells In Faith, the devil deals in doubt

It happens every time.  Right after something amazing and uplifting in my life, I tend to crash.  Does it ever happen to you?  You accomplish or experience something great that you have been waiting a long time for and then when it’s over you wonder what do you have to look forward to?  For a person who struggles with an emotional illness, this “cycling” is heightened. 

This weekend I was exchanging emails with one of my lifelong friends.  As a matter of fact she is probably known me longer than just about anyone and I would say probably knows me better.  Our relationship is one where she could finish my sentences and knows most of my secrets before I even think about telling her.  I confided in her that since my return from Mexico I was feeling down and out and not certain about some decisions I had made and basically just feeling like an underachiever.  She has seen this behavior from me numerous times and shared with me her own personal doubts.  She commented that she was continually doubting love, her appearance, her performance as a mother, wife, so on and so forth.  After dwelling on these things, I had a particularly rough Monday and then just when I needed Him, God’s shoulder appeared.

Just about every preacher I have ever known has told me that we all make the mistake of putting too much faith in man.  That’s probably an understatement.  It’s very common…we all definitely do that on a daily basis.  However, I got to thinking, is it faith in man…or is it doubt.  Does doubt in what we as men and women can accomplish outweigh our faith in what God can accomplish?  For me, that’s where I have been lacking lately.  I have faith in God and I express it on a daily basis and I share it with my colleagues, friends and loved ones, but while my faith may be apparent, my doubt in myself and others is creeping up to an all time high.  I have to break through this cloud in my head and let it really sink in that doubt contradicts faith.  You can’t believe that God will deliver you from a negative circumstance or turn your failures into successes, unless you realize that he uses man to do this.  I have spent so much time making sure I don’t trust anyone else or myself, that I have allowed doubt to succeed. 

Basically we have to realize that God is not going to hand us happiness in the form of cold hard cash, or a beach house in Key West, or a six foot blonde from Sweden. Desires we take to Him in prayer come about by the efforts we put forth in accomplishing these goals.  The people that we work with, play with, serve with, worship with, etc., are tools in this process also.  Therefore having faith in God means faith in His plan and no doubts must exist.  Easier said than done, right?  The only way to defeat the devil’s power over our lives is to utilize all the resources we have available to us to accomplish our goals and God’s plan.   The Father dwells in faith, the devil deals in doubt.  Stand with me, pray with me, the scripture says it all.  Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.”

On The Other Side

For years in my professional career I have heard leaders use the phrase “the grass is not always greener on the other side.”  This statement of course is often utilized with a disgruntled employee who is looking for something better at another job.  The quote is also applicable to marriages, friendships, churches, etc.  One place that I will say there are greener pastures is definitely on the other side of an emotional episode.  If you suffer or have ever suffered from depression, bipolar disorder or other emotional illnesses then you know exactly what I mean.

The symptoms of a manic episode are horrific.  A person is simply going about their day and something triggers a flood of negative emotions and before we know it, we are paralyzed with mental anguish.  It’s hard to articulate the feeling of depression to someone who has never truly felt a severe episode.  It is certainly one of the most out of control, helpless and hopeless feelings imaginable.  As I have gotten stronger over the years, I have been able to convince myself that life would be better as soon as the feeling passed.  In fact, when my serotonin levels increase and I pull out of a manic episode I almost condemn myself as silly or immature.  I used to always ask the question, what person, what man allows himself to be overwhelmed with despair?  It took a long time and several doctors before I understood the explanation of chemical imbalances.

An accurate diagnosis is often difficult with a depression patient.  Is it seasonal?  Is manic?  Bipolar I or Bipolar II?  We can complete all the questionnaires and surveys in the world still it takes time and trial and error to treat such a debilitating illness.  One of the most encouraging things my medical doctor has ever said to me is that “if this doesn’t work…something else will.”  I knew I was seeing a doctor who clearly understood the unpredictability of my illness when he said this, because it is ever changing.  The same rule applies to physical conditions like high blood pressure or cancer.  Your body becomes immune after a while and new treatment must be prescribed to generate the desired results.

Understanding that a manic episode was largely out of my control actually helped me to get a handle on dealing with the symptoms.  Now that I have a better understanding of the process and what happens to my mind and body during a “flare up” I can help with a better outcome.  The more I talk about it, write about it and engage with other’s who suffer from similar problems, the more I can handle my own.  If I could accomplish one thing by being open and honest about emotional struggles it would be to change the general population’s attitude from ashamed and embarrassed, to capable and optimistic about winning the fight. 

If you or someone you love suffers from any form of depression, I highly recommend taking every precaution and ever step to limit the length of a manic episode.  Utilize reaffirming statements like “I will be better on the other side of this.”  People say hindsight is 20/20 in a somewhat sarcastic tone as if there is nothing we can do about the past.  However, learning from what mistakes we have made in the past is the only way to limit our suffering in the future.  You can’t handle anything in this life alone.  Help is out there.  Sometimes we just have to seek it.  We start with God and He places the right people in our path to bring about the change we need.  Trust me…I have been there and now it feels great to be on the other side.

Old Spice Christmas

Recently a group of my friends from Church and I started an emotional wellness support group.  The goal of the group was to bring to light our individual struggles with various forms of depression.  It was extremely helpful to share stories and motivate each other.  I have personally suffered from Bipolar Disorder most of my life.  I look for every opportunity to understand the illness and conquer the symptoms.

People who suffer from mental illnesses react differently to situations than people who are able to “let stress roll off their back.”  There are significant experiences in my life that trigger manic episodes and as I look back on those experiences, I am able to see the point where I finally pulled out of the depression and I can learn from it.  I advise anyone going through similar problems to use this method to gain more perspective regarding their illness.

One significant situation from my youth is the absence of my biological father.  He chose to leave my mother and I when I was about two years old.  He would reappear every so often with a bucket full of promises for the future that never came to pass.  It really did a number on me emotionally.  There’s an old Dolly Parton song, “Here you come again, and here I go…”  This is a good illustration of how I felt.  I had a strong desire to have a relationship with him, but it just wasn’t meant to be.  My father, most likely had good intentions, and many members of his family have told me he felt guilty for not playing a role in my life. 

I remember the way my father always smelled.  He was a big fan of Old Spice cologne.  This was the mid 1970’s so I guess that wasn’t as odd then as it sounds right now.  It was a significant smell.  When I was about five years old it had been several months since I had seen or heard from my father.  Christmas was approaching and out of the blue I got a call from him.  He told me he was in California, but he was making his way back to Alabama for Christmas and he bought me the brightest and most beautiful fire truck.  I couldn’t wait.  I had missed him so much, even though my Step-Dad was really good to me, it was going to be great to see my “real Dad” as I mistakenly called him back then.  After I talked with him on the phone I begged my mother to let me buy him a Christmas present.  We went to the local TG&Y and of course I picked out Old Spice for him.

Christmas Eve arrived and I sat on the steps of our trailer with the gift wrapped Old Spice on my lap.  Where we lived on the Cove Road, you could hear cars coming a mile away and every time I heard the sound of tires on the asphalt, I would perk up thinking that just might be him in his old blue Chevy Nova.  Needless to say the day expired and he never showed.  It’s hard to understand what an anxiety attack feels like if you have never had one.  It’s one of the worst feelings a person can have, imagine it happening to a five year old.   I threw such a fit that my mother got so angry with me she took the present and put it up in the top of a closet and told me that if I didn’t stop crying, she wouldn’t let me give it to him, even if he came.

The next day was Christmas.  No word from my father.  His sister, who I affectionately called Aunt Wormy came to visit, but she had not heard from him.  She attempted to comfort me and spoiled me with gifts as always.  I found consolation in my relationship with her for his absence.  Late in the day, I was back on the door steps sitting and waiting, standing up at the sound of tires on the asphalt.  This time my mother wouldn’t allow me to sit there with the Old Spice in my lap.  She was infuriated with him and frustrated with me.  I was heartbroken, thus the onset of a major depressive episode.  They didn’t know what to call it back then.  The symptoms however were constant crying, headaches, and stomach aches.  It always resulted in a trip to the doctor, who always declared me as “fine.”  In turn, I would usually get in trouble for this behavior.  It is hard enough for adults to put their emotions into words.  I am such a strong advocate for children who suffer from Bipolar disorder, depression, or ADD/ADHD, because imagine how difficult is for them to explain how they feel. 

In the beginning of this story I promised you that I always tried to learn something from these episodes or experiences.  After days of anger, sadness and frustration, I took a stool from the kitchen, climbed up in the closet and got down the box of Old Spice.  With tears in my eyes I took it to my step-dad.  It was so important for me to give that present to him because I needed to let go of the man who had already let go of me.  He lit up when I gave him the box.  My mother opened her mouth ready to pounce on me for getting the present down, and my Dad held his hand up and stopped her.  He showed genuine enthusiasm as he opened it.  It was just what I needed.  It’s a simple lesson that when God closes one door he opens another.

Five years would go by before I saw my “real dad” again.  Things were never the same.  I was cold to him and he saw what time and distance had done to us as father and son.  I would only see him three more times in 15 years.  He passed away when I was 25.  To this day I don’t understand men who don’t have relationships with their children.  You just never know what damage you might do. 

Despite a history full of manic depressive episodes I continue to fight and I continue to write.  The only way to conquer an enemy is to build an army against it.  I am thankful God has given me the personal resolve to speak about my battle and the friends to encourage and motivate me.  There is no sad ending to this story, there is victory and accomplishment, by the grace of God, the battle is always won.

A Hundred Prayer Journals

Over the last year I have enjoyed more than my share of victory.  Our Heavenly Father has blessed me abundantly and I have faith that more blessings are chasing me right now.  I know the Lord wants me to achieve great rewards.  I believe He wants to take the talents He gave me and expand possibilities beyond even my own imagination.  If you know anything about me at all, you know my imagination is quite vivid on it's own.  Now imagine my future in God's hands....imagine your own future in His hands.  There are endless amounts of blessings.  Everything good and true comes from Him. 

I am on a mission.  I want to share the secret behind my success and my strong faith.  I made a commitment to God about 14 months ago to improve my prayer life.  I have always considered myself to be an excellent communicator.  I mean, hand me a blank sheet of paper and I can churn out a creative short story, a fierce business memo, or even a sharp political commentary.  Hand me a microphone and I will give you thirty minutes of uninterrupted persuasive speech.  However, my communication with the Almighty was not where it needed to be.  I wonder why I have neglected utilizing my communication skills with Him?  I made a change, and for that He has rewarded me tremendously.  I keep a journal next to my bed and in my desk at work.  I make it a priority to write to Him daily.  I have a journal dedicated to prayers for good health, and a journal dedicated for financial and business success.  I realize that prayers don't have to be written down, in fact, God loves it when we just sit and talk to Him.  I write my prayers down because I like to track my own progress and keep up with my spiritual thoughts.  The point I want to get across to you is that writing it down assigns accountability.  It gives a sense of personal responsibility to yourself and to God.  Every page has a date and a time.  I make every attempt not to miss a day because it is there in black and white.  I am keeping up with my relationship and communication for many purposes.  The changes in my life are evident.  I have never been more successful, happier in my personal life, my friendships, or had more zeal for my faith.  I believe changing my prayer life has shaped me into a stronger and more proud Christian.

Recently I had a discussion with my employees about our success and my personal growth over the past year.  They noticed that I was always writing in journals in my office.  I even bought a journal for my assistant.  This morning I noticed one of my associates sitting at her desk, writing in a journal and smiling.  It's a wonderful feeling to know she is looking to our Father for blessings and I know He will reward her just as He has me.  I want all of my friends to do this.  I want all of you to enjoy the blessings He has laid up for you.  I am on a mission to get 100 friends to start a daily prayer journal.  Even if your prayer life is in great condition right now, what could it hurt to add another prayer in written form?  Imagine how you or your loved ones could enjoy going back and reading your thoughts and your pleas to God?  At the very least, it could be a wonderful keepsake for a loved one.  Please tell all your friends to read this entry on the blog and pass the link around Facebook.  I want to see just how many prayer journals we can get filled up in the next few months.  Imagine how this could increase the number of prayers going up to the Father.  I know it improved my prayer life and for anyone else who is not completely satisfied with how things are going, this could be a great way to make a positive turn.  We can't go wrong by praying more often.

Please let me know if you are on board with joining the journey to improving your prayer life.  Post a comment on the blog or on my Facebook page.  In this challenging world, let's stand out by showing our personal commitment to our Heavenly Father.  Let's celebrate the abundance of blessings the Lord showers on us simply because we ask Him.  "...in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."  Philippians 4:6.

Porch Swings And Prayer

          

Country music singer Kellie Pickler has a song on her first album entitled “My Angel.”  The song pays tribute to her deceased grandmother who raised her.  There’s a line in the song that goes something like this…”on the front porch in that old blue swing, you would sit and we would sing Amazing Grace and Jesus Loves Me…”  The album came out several years ago and I remember listening to the song with my cousins Rhonda, Sherry, and Diane.  We all just sat there in tears thinking about Bertie Mae, our grandmother. 

Autumn takes me back to the days when Bertie Mae loved to venture out to the front porch.  She loved it when the season began to change and the air was cooler.  As the school bus dropped us off each day, she would be perched there, legs crossed, swinging back and forth and whistling a familiar tune.  We always had to stop and tell her about our day.  She was our symbol of home.  She had this amazing ability to calm everything.  She was the constant spiritual influence in the lives of each member of our family.  I spent countless hours in “therapy” in that swing beside her.  In my younger days when I was struggling with a test or a school bully to my adult days of career worries and love lost, she always had inspiring words.

One of the most memorable and heart wrenching nights I remember is when my first cousin Tim was killed in motorcycle accident.  We were both 15 at the time.  Several family members were at a community meeting in Roy Webb fighting the board of education to keep the small elementary school open when we got the news of the tragic accident.  We rushed home to Bertie Mae.  My uncle had already delivered the news.  I ran toward her porch but he held up his hand to stop us.  She was sitting in the porch swing in the dark alone, he stood on the steps nearby, giving her privacy.  I asked what she was doing and she simply replied, “I am praying, Sugar.”  Looking back there are so many times I walked up and found her in that swing with her eyes closed.  We used to tease her about napping in the swing, but I realize most of the time she was deep in conversation with the Lord. 

Anytime there was an illness or a tragedy in our family I was worried about her.  This just demonstrates my inexperience with faith.  She was always okay.  She had God on her side.  She always calmed me when I was in one of my high strung panic stages by telling me “The Lord’s gonna take care of me.”  As I have matured in my faith and spirituality I understand that connection and appreciate her convictions.  She was exactly right.  She didn’t leave this earth until God was ready for her and that’s just the way it works.  There was no need to worry.

Several years ago I was walking through Lowe’s and I spotted a beautiful white porch swing.  It was perfect.  It reminded me so much of the swing she had.  I bought it and put it on my front porch.  It was cooler weather at the time and I was particularly missing her and going through a hard time emotionally.  I used to take a blanket and go out on the porch, sit on my steps, wrap up and stare at that swing.  As I prayed, I could just see her sitting there, counseling me.  I found a lot of comfort there and over time it really improved my prayer life.  I moved from that house and my best friend is now using the swing, but I go by often and sit a spell and it brings back wonderful memories and offers great comfort like the kind that only comes from above. Thank God for extraordinary people like Bertie Mae and the outstanding Christian lives they lead.

All Is Well

It took me several years to develop the courage to discuss my condition openly. I come from a long line of judgmental people. Being raised in a staunchly conservative and legalistic church environment didn’t help either. There was just no room for anyone who might be a little “different.” Even though I believe most of my family to have severe bipolar tendencies, not many of them will admit it or seek help today, and I strongly believe from my research and experiences, mental disorders are hereditary. Some of my closest friends and relatives have said to me, “why talk about it…why write about it…things like this should be kept private.” I respect that opinion. However, having been at the edge of suicide on several occasions, and at the point of almost no return, I believe talking about it, writing about it, and sharing can save other lives…as well as my own.

I had my first mental breakdown in 2003, it lasted for approximately 6 months. It was prompted by the death of my grandmother Bertie Mae and an influx of tumultuous memories and personal struggles from my youth. I began to withdraw from the world. I would go to work every day, then come home in the afternoon and cover the windows, doors, etc., with anything I could find to block the light. I just wanted to be in total darkness. I thought if no one can see me…I will be okay. I cried continually. I didn’t sleep. My weight fluctuated 10 to 15 pounds every week! I would have manic episodes on a daily basis….all hidden from everyone. At work, I developed a reputation for being a Jekyl and Hyde. I was loving and understanding one moment and bitter and infuriated the next. This was the first “major” breakdown of my life, but as I reflected and would later come to terms with, I had displayed these tendencies from a very early age. My erratic mood swings were undiagnosed for more than 20 years.

Fortunately, God had bigger plans for me. Even though I was turning my back on Him, He would not let me go. Sometimes I think Bertie Mae was campaigning with God on my behalf. She was up there in Heaven pleading with God to intervene. He did just that…in the form of an older married couple who had become my “God Parents.” C.E. and Jean Chappell became my life line. They recognized what was going on with me. Jean had experienced much of the same symptoms as I, therefore, they knew it was bad. They refused to listen to my excuses. They refused to let me hide from them. I finally broke and I confided in them. I even told them of my well laid plans to end it all. They took me to a doctor immediately. A very long process of ups and downs, progress and relapse, healing and regression, success and failure began to occur. It’s a battle that will likely never end in this life.

I told my story publicly for the first time in 2007, standing in the pulpit at the Ohatchee Church of Christ. The minister, Wayne Dunaway, who is a very good friend and advocate, gave me the opportunity to preach a sermon entitled, “Christians Overcoming Depression.” The sermon/testimony was well received and so many of my brothers and sisters in Christ came up to me and told me they had gone through similar bouts with depression. Millions of Americans do every year, but for so long we have treated these illnesses as taboo and made people afraid to get help. I was one of those people. I am so thankful the Chappell’s intervened when they did and rescued me. C.E. and Jean put me on the path to recovery.

Today, I am healthy and I try to be proactive in my fight against this illness. I support each person in their own plight to conquer mental disorders, whether it be through faith alone or with the assistance of medical treatment. My main goal is to be as productive as I can and set an example that there should be no stigma attached to people who battle mental illness. A mental illness is a medical problem. For some, it’s temporary, for others it can be more long term and can impact the lives of everyone around. The most important lesson I have learned is regardless of how you’re judged by friends and relatives, surround yourself with people who will love and support you unconditionally. Put God at the top of your list and pray daily for healing and strength. Many people who suffer from Bipolar disorder are some of the most creative and successful people in the world. I am determined to control what happens in my future. Defeat is no longer an option.

If one life is saved or one circumstance is made better because we have an open conversation about mental illness, then it’s worth any ridicule or criticism we might endure. In the words of my dear friend C.E. Chappell who has now gone to be with the Lord, “all is well.”