I'm thankful for the scars and wounds that point me to Jesus, reminding me of my fallenness, my weakness, and my need and desire for Him.
The first time I heard the words "mental health," I was fourteen years old. My dad had just been put on disability due to four unsuccessful hernia surgeries, and it was clear something beyond his physical pain was occurring.
Growing up, I saw family members participate in things they shouldn't. Drugs, alcohol, gangs, violence, overdoses, theft, and physical abuse were on the ever-growing list. But as a child, all I knew and understood was that those things were bad and those people were "sick." I always prayed that I wouldn't turn out "sick" and addicted to bad things like them.
But when almost every man in my life that surrounded me began to crumble before my eyes, I was broken, scared, and confused. I didn't understand how these people could love me dearly yet cause so much chaos and destruction in my upbringing. I didn't understand why they couldn't just stop their addictions, stop being mean, and stop yelling at me for no reason. I always wondered why my mom cried on Saturdays and could barely pull herself out of bed. I questioned why she worked 8+ hours a day, only to live in a high-functioning state from the second she walked in the door till her feet finally plopped in bed.
Growing to Understand
Today, I consider it a blessing that I've grown to understand what the phrase "mental health" means more deeply. And as odd and terrible as it sounds, I'm thankful that I've experienced the tragedies it often brings because I firmly believe that only those who've walked this treacherous and painful path understand it. And only those who've walked and understood it to their core can then, in turn, help others through it.
Don't get me wrong. If there was an option to never deal with anxiety, depression, suicide, post-traumatic stress disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, schizophrenia, or bipolar disorder, you name it; again, I would choose it. Not just for my sake but for the world. For those who have experienced them and those with family and friends who suffer daily in the dark without letting anyone know.
But mental health disorders and problems are just one issue we as humans face in a fallen world. And they are as serious and detrimental as physical conditions and issues like cancer, diabetes, or endometriosis.
When You Experience It First-Hand
For the last decade, I've wrestled to come to terms with understanding what "mental health" really means. This became especially challenging when I was diagnosed with numerous physical and mental health issues immediately after graduating college.
All my life, I'd seen mental health concerns around me. I was used to my half-siblings overdosing and coming back to life. Their norm was going to jail, beating people up, and engaging in abusive situations. Fearing my father's voice and angry outbursts was a typical situation I faced weekly. I never knew which version I would get of him or my siblings. Some of my relatives died of alcoholism and a variety of other physical and mental health conditions. Being "mental" seems to run in the family.
But when anxiety, depression, and debilitating physical pain knocked on my door, I was knocked to my knees. And not because I was now also suffering but because I began to look at those around me differently. I began to seek to understand their behaviors. And most importantly, I began to learn that their physical and mental pain wasn't something they could just stop or cut cold turkey.
So I started praying about these issues, as I had my entire life. But the more I prayed, researched, read my Bible, and talked to God, the more pain surrounded me. It finally clicked in my mind: The battle of mental health would not only test my faith but strengthen it.
Because my entire life, I'd never known or experienced physical and mental pain as I know and understand it now.
I saw it, and I tried to understand, but I didn't truly get it.
And as much as this confusion hurts and threatens to shipwreck my faith, I am thankful.
I'm thankful for the scars and wounds that point me to Jesus, reminding me of my fallenness, my weakness, and my need and desire for Him.
A Prayer for Healing Can Be Scary
I'll be honest in saying that while I pray for full healing of my body, mind, and spirit, there is a part of me that fears two things: 1. That my prayers may never be answered (on earth, that is), and 2. Who I will be if I am radically healed someday. This doesn't mean I doubt God, His goodness, or His healing. It also doesn't mean I don't desire total healing. I certainly do. God created me, knows me, and I trust Him. I know that whether I'm healed on this side of heaven or not, He has good and faithful promises and plans for me. But sometimes, I do have to wonder: Will I still make an impact? Will I still be me? Who will I be without riddling anxiety and paralyzing depression? What will life be like without immense physical pain?
Some of my closest friends suffer from a painful mental disorder called obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). Through repetitive notions and fears, this form of anxiety paralyzes to the point of overthinking and checking again and again.
I once asked them how they would feel if one day their OCD was just gone. I distinctly remember them telling me they wouldn't know how to feel. I feel exactly the same way.
As research develops, there have been studies of surgeries successfully reducing OCD symptoms in similar fashions to how tumors or cancer are removed. But instead of bringing joy to my friends, they are paralyzed in fear. Peyton Garland writes, "Oddly enough, this news terrifies me. What if I were to undergo surgery and my awful thoughts didn't stop? What if it wasn't OCD the whole time, and it was me? Worse, if I was cured and no longer fought demons daily, what would become of my relationship with God? Where would my dependence go, and who/what would it attach to next? I'm not sure who I would be apart from this debilitating disorder. I'm not sure what to do with such freedom. This post isn't to share any wisdom or special insight. I simply share this so you know that you aren't alone if the thought of being healed and whole is terrifying."
Can you relate? I know I sure can. Because when mental health joins itself to your life, it's a big deal. Very much so, as those who develop cancer are attached to the identity that the disease gives them.
If you are walking in physical or mental pain and desire healing but are also scared of what that might bring, I want you to know that you are not alone. I'm praying for all of you warriors out there. Not because you've been completely healed (even if you have) but because of your resilience to keep moving forward.
Aren't you thankful that no matter the road we're walking today, we can look to the brighter tomorrow? To a place where pain will be no more. And in the meantime, we can keep on praying for today. We trust His plans no matter the healing that comes here on earth or doesn't, and we know that regardless of what we experience, He's with us. He loves us. He knows our identity and calls us His own.
Agape, Amber
Photo Credit: ©iStock/Getty Images Plus/demaerre
