Posts Tagged ‘depression’

Every once in a while, a dark and heavy thought floods my mind. I try to dismiss it because I know it’s not going anywhere healthy, but when things happen like the recent suicide of Robin Williams, I can’t avoid it.

What if I sink, too?

dark cloudsIf you’ve had a history of depression, I suspect you know the train of thought I’m talking about.

I remember feeling this profoundly the first time I watched the movie, “A Beautiful Mind.” Russell Crowe’s portrayal of mental illness in that movie rocked me to my core. It scared me.

Despite the fact that my depression is currently under control, what if the darkness returns and overwhelms me? What if I, like hymnist/poet William Cowper, enter a darkened state that plagues me for the rest of my days? Or – what if I develop Alzheimer’s disease and degenerate into helpless forgetfulness?

Morbid, I know – but you’ve thought about it too, right? Come on, be honest – our minds wander into these dark places whether we want them to or not!

That’s why this reading from Charles Spurgeon’s classic devotional book, Morning and Evening, was such a comfort today:

“And I will remember my covenant.”
Genesis 9:15

Mark the form of the promise. God does not say, “And when ye shall look upon the bow, and ye shall remember my covenant, then I will not destroy the earth,” but it is gloriously put, not upon our memory, which is fickle and frail, but upon God’s memory, which is infinite and immutable. “The bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant.” Oh! it is not my remembering God, it is God’s remembering me which is the ground of my safety; it is not my laying hold of his covenant, but his covenant’s laying hold on me. Glory be to God! the whole of the bulwarks of salvation are secured by divine power, and even the minor towers, which we may imagine might have been left to man, are guarded by almighty strength. Even the remembrance of the covenant is not left to our memories, for we might forget, but our Lord cannot forget the saints whom he has graven on the palms of his hands. It is with us as with Israel in Egypt; the blood was upon the lintel and the two side-posts, but the Lord did not say, “When you see the blood I will pass over you,” but “When I see the blood I will pass over you.” My looking to Jesus brings me joy and peace, but it is God’s looking to Jesus which secures my salvation and that of all his elect, since it is impossible for our God to look at Christ, our bleeding Surety, and then to be angry with us for sins already punished in him. No, it is not left with us even to be saved by remembering the covenant. There is no linsey-wolsey here–not a single thread of the creature mars the fabric. It is not of man, neither by man, but of the Lord alone. We should remember the covenant, and we shall do it, through divine grace; but the hinge of our safety does not hang there–it is God’s remembering us, not our remembering him; and hence the covenant is an everlasting covenant.

The book of Isaiah uses striking language to make a similar point:

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
    and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
    I will not forget you! (Isaiah 49:15)

Even the bond, the memory, of a mother for her child may be broken. But God is way beyond these human limits. For which I am profoundly grateful.

I might, in fact, lose it. I might sink. I might forget. But my hope isn’t in MY remembering. It is in God’s infinite memory, and commitment, and power, and covenant. He alone is unfailing.


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This past weekend, I lost a friend to suicide.

Despondent over painful issues in his personal and family life, this man – a well-respected businessman who was loved and respected by hundreds – ended his own life.

Trey Pennington was a friend and social media collaborator, someone I had begun to know over recent years and wanted to know much better. I, and many others, will miss him deeply. The sorrow at this loss, and the angry sting of knowing that this gracious gentleman was finally overcome by depression and personal grief, has led me to take action on something I’ve put off long enough.

No-one can stop the wholesale carnage caused by depression each year. But maybe, by telling my story, I can help someone here or there who is living under dark clouds and doesn’t know what to do.

I lived under those clouds for decades. And, I’m recovering.

After Trey’s passing, I decided that, in his memory, I would finish and publish this story. I had put it on the backburner many times because, to tell the truth, although I have felt for years that I was destined to write in both short-form (blogs) and long-form (books), I was intimidated. My perfectionism – which once fed into depression like gasoline feeds flames – kept me back from writing more than a few posts.

No more. It’s time to take the fight to the enemy and try to take back some prisoners.

I have never been able to forget the wonderful foreword of J.I. Packer’s classic book, Knowing God, where he introduces the volume by saying, “As clowns yearn to play Hamlet, so I have wanted to write a book about God. This book, however, is not it….if what is written here helps anyone in the way that the meditations behind the writing helped me, the work will have been abundantly worth while.”

I feel like a clown among giants when I see the works of real authors. Nonetheless, my story may give understanding to a loved one, or help someone in darkness to face reality and get some help. If so, the work of writing – and the pain of living with depression for so many years – will have been “abundantly worthwhile.”

This is a quick read – maybe 15 minutes. And it has a particular focus on men, who often live in denial about things like depression. It is definitely not a literary masterpiece – it’s primarily a call to action.

The book is free to download and the file may be distributed freely:

Click to download –> Clearing Clouds

We can’t bring Trey back. But maybe we can pull some others back from the brink.

>> If you want to take a look at signs and symptoms of depression in a quick-read format, WebMD has the following helpful links:

Women and Depression

Men and Depression (on the topic of men, this is also quite helpful, from the Mayo Clinic)


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The Alone Monster

In recent days, I’ve been able to re-establish contact with some long-ago friends – people with whom I was very close, but, as life circumstances changed, the relationships drifted into near-hibernation.

To pick up the phone, and to pick up right where we’d left off – the same affection, the foundation of mutual knowledge – is an immense joy. I love the new friendships I’ve made through social networks. But how I treasure those ties that have survived through decades. I’ve changed, they’ve changed, but the roots of trust built through prior vulnerability and many steps walked along the path together remain.

In a comforting way, they re-affirm that I’m not alone.

The reality is, many of us have deep secrets, dark troubles, monsters with which we wrestle – alone. For years, I tried to fight my way through depression, and failed – until I stepped out of the aloneness to acknowledge my problem and get help (what I had needed all those years was a pill to fix the biochemistry, and a willingness to be vulnerable).

A number of my friends and contacts are struggling, sometimes in deep loneliness – broken marriages, mental illness, messed-up kids. Who wants to go public with that? A recent suicide letter by a young man hiding a profoundly awful childhood trauma has become public – he tried to fight the darkness, that monster that grows larger the more alone you are – and finally gave up. He could not bring himself to divulge what was eating him away from the inside out. Heartbreaking.

We hear in the news about young men in the military who cannot take the trauma, and give the Alone Monster permission to point the gun inward and pull the trigger. There are great outreach programs for service people and vets but some try to go it alone. And lose the battle.

You can’t go back and unwind things done to you (or even by you, for that matter) in your childhood. You can’t wave a magic wand and fix a crumbling family. But you can do one thing – get help. You can slay some beasts alone, but others require warriors at your side, both personal and (perhaps) professional. The shame diminishes when you finally get honest, and the monster shrinks in size when others are there to come alongside.

Please – don’t go it alone. You can’t fix it all right away, but that doesn’t mean you’re destined to be swallowed up by the beast. Just do one thing first – get some help!


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You’re a man. And you’re down – a lot.

But depression? That’s for weaklings. Pills? Therapy? Not for men.

Get a clue, brother.

Manhood does not equal being stupid. And if you have a clogged artery near your heart, you don’t tough it out on your own and pretend it will go away.

You get it treated. Because it’s profoundly selfish not to.

I toughed it out for decades. Tried to “manage” and control the darkness. Finally hit the wall. Then, with the help of some medicine, I became a new man. The clouds cleared.

Maybe you think it’s shameful to admit that there could be a problem you can’t resolve by force of will. News flash: biochemistry does not yield to machismo. Darkness of soul is not something to be trifled with. Get some help.

October 7th is National Depression Screening Day. It’s as good a day as any to get a clue about what may be draining your strength and vitality. Taking a pill or getting some other form of treatment is far better than years of regret.

Take it from me. And while you’re at it, take it from you. You don’t need depression. Real men need to say No! to this thief of vigor and life – but first, you say “yes” to getting checked out.

[You know all that disclaimer language about “this is not medical advice,” “consult with your doctor” “your results may vary” “brush your teeth twice a day” etc? Yeah – insert that here]


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They still creep in sometimes.

Those dark tentacles, those poisonous appendages of the declawed monster that once held me in its unyielding grip.

Nobody sees the invisible fingers as they snake up from my subconscious, ascending like smoke to cloud the mind and darken the spirit.

“You really are worthless,” they whisper. “Your life is a waste…it’s all for nought.”

Fainter than before, but still in earshot, the corrosive chant of “Failure…” echoes dimly from the recesses.

There’s a twisted logic at times to the irrational accusations, and an unfortunate affinity that the poison-thoughts find in the despair-shaped spaces of my soul (which they once occupied unopposed). Having lost its grip on my spirit, depression does not give up the field readily when there is a fresh opportunity for battle, a new opening for psychological warfare.

As the sun exists to spread light and joy, so the poisoners have only one intent – to drag down and smother. To isolate, and wear down with threatening clouds of angst.

There can be only one response. A decisive, defiant slamming of that basement door. Opening the windows, letting the tendrils of smoke drift away, while attending to people and things that matter (and if you’re not “there” yet, able to do battle – Get Some Help).

They had enough of my time. No more. Begone.


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