Living in the Undertones: A Christian with Mental Illness
I’ve decided to tell my story without an invitation because no one knows how to ask about a depressed Christian’s story. That’s part of living in the undertones. You exist—along with your hurt and experiences—but everyone around you doesn’t know how to understand your existence. Maybe they don’t want to understand. Christian people ask hard questions though, right? Can’t they see that something is wrong inside of me? And ask the hard questions about it? I wish they knew that when they start talking about spiritual warfare I get confused because my meds help me. As lifeless as I am, I can see fear, confusion, and abuse anywhere. From even the kindest, most well meaning people.
My name is Abigail and I know what it’s like to be a depressed Christian in a Christian high school. Depression is the inability to be the human that is Abigail. Or whatever name and personality your person happens to own. Depression is also hopelessness; the teasing memory of yourself that you’re physically unable to hope would manifest again. It’s the dread that nothing you accomplish matters. The giving up of the desire to be happy. Depression is a breakdown of beliefs. It’s knowing that love is real one day and the next smashing your mirror in because you can’t remember that you are loved or how to love anyone else.
One of my hardest battles is remembering that I am still Abigail, somewhere and somehow; that Abigail is not depressed but Abigail has depression. That Depressive Disorder is just one part of me. That hopelessness does not define me no matter how many times I’ve let it own me.
In the Christian context, depression looks the same, but, Christians say its from something different: depression is a result of lack of trust in Jesus and the work of the Holy Spirit in your heart. This is the voice that replays in my head as I’m told that it’s my fault, that I should get myself together, and rejoice because today is the day the Lord has made. The voice that says I obviously haven’t surrendered my traumas or sins to God. The voice that tells me just as long as my relationship with God is doing good, the rest of my life should fall into place. The voice saying I’m selfish and should help out the track team with my skill though I don’t have enough strength to twist the cap off my toothpaste. Pray for strength. Pray it away, pray it away. Talk to the Lord, get right with Him, the depression will cease. It will cease.
People don’t know how damaging it is to imply that a depressed person is spiritually deficient. I know that this affliction is unintentional, and that’s why I want to tell my story. To educate. To bring understanding. And if not understanding, at least open-mindedness about mental disorders. And compassion. I want to both instill compassion in the ones watching the suffering and remind the suffering that compassion exists.
Like I’ve said, my story is about living in the undertones; among the existing and the misunderstood. Or, really, my story is about my escape from how living in the undertones affected me. I escaped by discovering that people will do just about anything to run from something that they don’t understand. And they’ll run even faster from admitting that they are experiencing something they believe to be unbiblical. And by discovering that I don’t have to be afraid and ashamed of the same things others are afraid and ashamed of. Hopefully, some short snippets from my life will help you understand. But first, we need to get acquainted with the “lingo.”
“I’m really stern about having the kids honor and obey us. It’s one of the Ten Commandments after all.”
“Ya, I broke up with her because she was the seductress that Proverbs warns men about. God didn’t want us together.”
“My wife and I read the Bible together every night. We won’t go to sleep without it. Sometimes she falls asleep during prayer but we are working on abolishing that sin.”
“I just want to go to the bar with Ken because he needs a good influence and so do the other people there. The light of Christ needs to be shown everywhere.”
“My angels watch me every night until I make dinner for the whole week and mow the lawn. They usually tell me to do this at 3am. I know I’ve served God to the best of my ability when they disappear.”
Those who don’t understand mental illness and abuse won’t realize that the first statement was said by a woman with Borderline Personality Disorder. She needs a tight reign on the kids so they can’t abandon her.
The recent single has Bipolar Disorder and couldn’t control his mania and thought his depression episodes were the Holy Spirit punishing him for his rampant sexual behavior.
The avid Bible reader has Antisocial Personality Disorder and abuses his wife because of “his right as the head of their Christ-centered marriage.”
Miss. Evangelistic-Dater is addicted to alcohol and her abusive relationship with Ken.
And our church visionary and prophetess has schizophrenia.
All of these people, with stellar testimonies of salvation, radical missional goals, and deep insecurities and disorders, love pulling the “God-card.” You can’t question God. Of course Jen doesn’t want a rush of people coming at her telling her that her addiction needs to stop and that Ken isn’t good for her. So, she uses Christ as her “shield.” Of course Logan is ashamed and afraid of his Bipolar and his risqué behaviors. But he didn’t want someone confronting him. It’s the perfect time for the Strong Tower and Ancient of Days to get him off the hook.
Because I was once one of these people, the depressed girl who once thought of herself as truly remorseful and repentant over her sin—when I was actually, well, ya know, just depressed and unwilling to admit it was hard to believe in the character of God no matter how much I wanted to—I know how my kind talk to protect themselves from others and from themselves to some extent. A skill that I’m not unthankful to have, yet, a skill that if I had known what the journey looked like that would provide, I may not have chosen it.
You may think I’m mad at my Christian family. And if you would’ve assumed that a couple months ago you would’ve been right. But a funny thing happens after you’ve stepped out of depression: you remember forgiveness. And the light that people bring to your life. Nonetheless, I could’ve been spared a lot had I been given a little more grace from the place of compassion even without understanding.