Leaving Gethsemane

       I reached the point during my last depression crash where I was desperate for some relief. My medication had not really been working for me anymore and I was already on the maximum dose. I was disturbed by some of the intrusive thoughts I was experiencing. I pushed myself - more like dragged- to open up about this with my psychologist colleague, asking for psychiatry consult. It was a  drag to the cliff and then a jump into the unknown. What I said was said. A new path of uncertainty, but possible hope, had just opened up.

     Just before my appointment I said to myself, "I'm ready to leave this Gethsemane."

     Gethsemane, referring to the Garden of Gethsemane, is the place where Jesus Christ prayed, taking upon him all of the sins and pains of the world. He too, asked for "the bitter cup" to be removed if possible.  Gethsemane has been a symbol of grief, suffering, and darkness in many Christian writings.  There's a hymn called, "Where Can I Turn for Peace?" by Emma Lou Thayne and there's a lyric that goes:

     "He answers privately. 
      Reaches my reaching
      In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend."

I was ready to leave this dark, heavy place.

    One of the actual positive things to come out of depression is that I gained a better understanding of Christ's sacrifice. There is a scripture in the Book of Mormon that says,

"And He shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith He will take upon him the pains and sicknesses of His people...and he will take upon Him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor His people according to their infirmities." (Alma 7:11-12)

     Jesus Christ had to come to Earth, in a body capable of feeling pain, hunger, and fatigue, to be able to experience every possible feeling that had been felt and will be felt. I don't know how he did this,  especially in the culminating act of the night prior to His crucifixion. However, I did learn something about this.

     I, in my own way and through the past several years that I have struggled with depression, was able in an extremely small way to develop  a  more empathetic heart to the struggles of others. While I know that the choices of others may not be in alignment with human laws or divine commandments, I learned how Christ, in his infinite love, can feel what someone is going through, and love that person as the child of God that they are.

      I knew what it felt like to be frustrated with anhedonia (inability to feel emotion). I had this force field that would not allow any positive emotions to penetrate me. I missed laughing. I just wanted to feel something. One morning I  came to the realization that I could understand why some people addicted to drugs seek them out prior to it becoming a physical addiction. I remember thinking to myself, "Man, if only I could legally get high without ruining my career." Some people seek that physical high to be able to feel something they deem as positive, and sometimes they seek the refuge of drugs or alcohol to find calmness or to dull their pain.  I remember feeling such sympathy upon hearing about the suicide of Robin Williams, the struggle that he had with his mental health as he fought the devastating onset of dementia. I could relate to the feeling of losing one's mind - how scary that it is - and observe its progressive nature without a feeling of hope for recovery. I could find some similarity between myself and a woman who struggles with depression and makes poor decisions in regards to intimacy and morality.  They find someone who finds pleasure in their existence - in their body - when they themselves  struggle with finding pleasure in their own existence. Humility, empathy,  and love is what I learned. Seeing someone a little better through God's perspective - loving the child and not seeing them just for the choices they make. It's a hard price to learn such a lesson, but I find it as something positive  as a product of adversity.

     It was a short stroll through Gethsemane for me, but I know I will return again and again. It's the nature of chronic illness. I will return multiple times and sometimes I will be with someone as they walk through their own Gethsemane. Hopefully they will not have to walk that garden path alone.

Parasitic Brain Mold

     I have often compared my depression to what I call "a parasitic brain mold."  If someone asked me how I was honestly doing, I wish I could just say,"moldy."  Maybe it's because it needs some kind of physical form, at least metaphorical, that can explain the physical and psychological effects, and even more, have people see it as a real disease.

     In 2013, the majority of over 41,000 people in the United States died from a parasitic brain infection. This was almost 200 people less than those who died of breast cancer that same year.  Yet, there were no fundraisers, ribbons, or hardly any "Get Well Soon" cards. No journalist is trying to interview you for a human interest article, commending your bravery. Those who suffer with such infection sometimes "quarantine" themselves from their families, friends, and the rest of society.

     Parasitic brain mold spreads through all sections of the brain, causing a physical heaviness and sometimes irritation. The head is harder to hold up straight under its weight, it requires too much energy. Energy is what is being consumed by parasitic brain mold while the rest of the brain slowly deteriorates. It leaves the host exhausted, even zombie-like.   It's  not just about  a single organism, but a mini-ecosystem - like a petri dish. Other bacteria and single-celled feelings like apathy, irritability, inability to concentrate, and anxiety enjoy a symbiotic relationship with brain mold and often flourish in the darkness of the soul. Often, it serves as a barrier from positive feelings reaching my brain. Joy, amazement, peace, enthusiasm are all unable to penetrate the Gortex-strong mold. As the brain slowly deteriorates, so do cognitive functions. Movement becomes slower and activities of daily living take quadruple the amount of time to accomplish. Existence is hard.

     Many times I wished there was a metaphorical bleach that I could scrub my brain with  that would  dissolve and wipe away all of the grime. Brain mold does not  respond well to positive thinking, counting blessings, or even taking a vacation. Brain mold is sometimes perceived by others to be completely different from what it is. People might as well say that you are suffering from a case of Hobbits' Feet or an allergy to concrete, so the host gives up trying to explain.  The host may wonder even more what others think of their mold, and what they may do with such information.

     How would it be different if clinical depression and other mental disorders were viewed by society like the diseases that they are? We call people with other diseases, "survivors" and "fighters," but many people are trying to survive day by day, quietly, just struggling to function with the demands of their existence. And many do this alone.

     So if you suffer from parasitic brain mold, keep fighting! There are moments of remission ahead, despite the dampness and darkness that you my currently feel. I may even be able to share some bleach.

Soaked Socks

     Have you ever walked through the kitchen at night, wearing socks, and you somehow manage to find the puddle of a dropped piece of ice? Makes you cringe a little.

     Have you ever attempted to jump over a puddle or stream, only to not make it and have your entire foot get soaked? Walking with squishy, wet socks for the next few hours or the rest of the day can feel a bit uncomfortable.

     Now imagine it is dark and you can't see hardly anything, not even your own feet. You're walking through a wilderness and you notice all of a sudden your feet are wet. You don't know why, you just know they are now soaked and your uncomfortable, colder. Blisters will eventually develop as you feel gravel in your shoes. Your skin will feel  raw.  It may have just been a walk through a puddle, across a stream, or into a river. Or,  there may be a small leak in the cracked damn that is just about to burst and drown you.

     You don't know where this is taking you. It may just be a bad hour, a bad day, a bad week, or maybe you're about go downhill for the long-term or maybe permanently. You don't know; the only thing you know is that your socks are wet. You keep walking and you start getting ankle deep, waist, deep, chest deep in water. You are fighting against a current, moving in a direction that you  hope is right.  Each step requires an exhausting amount of energy. You hit some rocks and tree branches scratch at you. You swallow the turbid water, only to choke and cough. You feel like you are not getting anywhere. Your weakness has never become so apparent. Why not let the current just take you? You search for a light on the shore, just something that can orient you back into the right direction.

     Just one light.

     I have been blessed to find some lights, but I have still trudged through deep water over and over again, often getting progressively deeper until I am sometimes treading.
   
   This is my journey.