Bible Belt Medicine

           Living in the Land of a Thousand Churches has its advantages and disadvantages.  For example, when disaster strikes, they put all their manpower and resources to helping those affected.  But they can also breed a culture of religious fervor, and even fanaticism.

          I used to buy into the zeal, believed unconditionally in prophecy, faith healing, the Rapture, and many other Christian ideas which I find myself now re-thinking in my more experienced adulthood.  But for those Christians reading this who are sputtering in shock, rest assured, I have neither abandoned God, nor have I lost faith.  It's a healthy part of one's natural and spiritual life to look at things differently, to ask questions, to go looking for something deeper than what you've always taken for granted.

        On a recent road trip with my husband, I saw a billboard advertising a Christian faith conference that had to do with mental health.  For one hopeful moment, I thought how wonderful it was that churches were finally opening hearts and minds to those with mental illness.  And then I saw the byline: How to find Peace Without Pills.

        So close, and yet so far.

       You see, the problem with this angle is a fundamental lack of understanding about mental illness, its causes, symptoms, and treatments.  All of which are widely varied depending on the individual and the diagnosis.  I myself was diagnosed with depression as a kid, and confirmed to be struggling with post-partum depression after both my daughters were born.

        I'm well aware of the stigma that comes from having a mental illness.  It's the reason I went to great lengths to hide it when I was young, and why I make a point to be open and honest about it now.  I stay as well-informed as I can about the science of mental illness, looking at brain scans of depressed individuals next to healthy ones and feeling reassured that this isn't all "in my imagination".  I've learned about chemical imbalances and what factors decide my dopamine levels.

       The worst part of the billboard was that while it had a faint air of compassion, it seemed to imply that those like me just don't have enough faith.  We haven't completed the right Bible study or attended the right church service, or been whacked on the forehead by Benny Hinn.  So as we drove past that well-meaning but very condescending billboard, I muttered the only thing I could think of:

       "Fuck you."  (Don't worry, the girls weren't in the car).

       Yes, that's right, fuck you.

       I have spent years, YEARS first trying to figure out what I was doing wrong to bring this dark cloud over my mind and emotions, and then more time getting treatment until I could claw my way to some semblance of a balanced life.  I have been to doctors who have studied and worked for years to help people like me, while you were praying for magical healing or casting out imaginary demons.

       I'm sorry, but it's just not enough.  Not when you're barely eating and tossing around all night trying to sleep.  Certainly not while you're pregnant and all this is going on.  I prayed my ass off, took herbal supplements, did almost every fool thing I could think of to turn it around.  I thought I was a horrible mother for even thinking about going to a doctor and asking for medication, but being a pregnant, starving insomniac was tearing me apart from the inside.

       Think about it like this:  You wouldn't tell someone with cancer or lymphoma or fibromialgia that their illness was "all in their mind".  You wouldn't look down your nose at them for taking medicine or receiving therapy to help them function normally.

       So why the hell would you smugly suggest all I need is a little faith?

       One of my favorite comedians, Chonda Pierce, told a story once about a sweet old lady with Coke-bottle glasses who came up to her after a show one time.  Chonda also suffers from depression, and also takes medication to help her cope.  So when this well-meaning Christian lady told her she didn't need the pills and just to have faith, Chonda responded by quipping, "Okay, take off your glasses and drive home...Have faith!"

        Having a mental illness is a constant wrestling match with one's own thoughts, making each day a full-on battle to get anything done.  I've avoided returning phone calls for days because I've been afraid of failing projects with those I'm working with.  My mind tries to defeat me before I even begin.

        And because I have a family now, I will pop whatever damn pills I need to help me be the best mom and wife and woman I can be.  I know they don't magically  make my life easier, but they do give me something to fight the darkness with.  A mental battleaxe, if you will.

        I still believe deeply that God can do all things, but He will not do all things for us.  He is not some mystical genie in the sky that grants wishes, but a guiding light and voice in our lives.

        So the next time your church has the idea to help people with mental illness, try and connect them with treatments and services they need as well as pray for them.  Better yet, smile at them, talk with them, get to know them and love them for who they are.

       Treat them like human beings, instead of potential converts to your church.

        And of course, if you ever have questions about what it's like living with depression, or want to know how to get help for yourself or someone else, I'm happy to help.  And if you've read this far, thanks for listening.