If you’re just joining the short-story of the last year or so, consider returning to this post after reading Part I and Part II.

And, on with the rest of the story (a la Paul Harvey) …

So, after the realization that there was a pretty significant physiological impact of the depression/anxiety/whatever, I could not deny that medication was appropriate at this time. I would start visiting another psychiatrist in late September.

If you have read any of the blog posts from last fall (October and November) you may be able to discern that there were some difficult situations I was working through both personally and professionally. While preparing with my supervisor for a meeting that would address one of these “issues”, I had a significant emotional reaction (a.k.a. lots and lots of tears). If you are a woman you know how irritating those moments are and if you are a man you know how uncomfortable those moments are. :-) However, I can’t forget the comment my supervisor made, he said, “Christy, that is not a normal reaction to this situation.”

It’s important to know that I had shared with only three people on staff regarding the counseling and diagnoses (and one person had left staff by this time). Essentially, no one in leadership knew about what I was addressing in my personal and spiritual life. This may seem unusual for someone on staff at a church, however, fears and insecurities rarely diminish just because the name of the employer changes. I was afraid that revealing these struggles would reduce my effectiveness, value, and authority … although I truly believe(d) that they simultaneously equipped me for my work. It is humbling to write these things for public consumption, however, it is also revealing to me because I have not applied the same truth and advice I offer others in similar situations!

Anyway, the last side-note was an effort to provide a bit more background. I was stunned by the insight and care that I interpreted by supervisors comment as. I knew from the conversation that these words were not meant to be critical but provided an opportunity for reflection (personally) and clarification with him (regarding my emotional response). I still was unsure about the appropriateness of sharing about the last year and decided to wait. However, I knew the time would soon arrive when I would need to trust others.

I would eventually share a bit of the background regarding my journey through counseling, depression, medications, etc. with my supervisor. I was still nervous but knew that it would be wise for someone on our Senior Leadership Team to know.

Over the next month I would continue work as normal, visit my brother in Prague with friends, and begin a new medication when we returned (late October). Those months were still an up and down journey of emotions, frustrations, “don’t-want-to’s”, etc. However, I relied on the encouragement of family and friends that this was a necessary and good journey to be on and the end result would be a strengthened faith and stronger health.

Last fall contained another surprise as well, my counselor determined that depression and anxiety came out of (comorbid with) a primary diagnosis, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Surprised? I certainly was! How can a white, 30-something girl from Arkansas have a diagnosis like this? PTSD is supposed to be a diagnosis for war veterans and international refugees not me. My job includes work and friendships with many refugees, I’ve heard some stories and seen their impact … how could my life compare?

Our individual lives cannot compare to another. It is always possible, however, to look outside of ourselves and know that someone else in our community or world has experienced something “worse” or “more difficult”. However, at what point do we invalidate pain in someone’s life? Typically only when it is our own story we tell and very few (if any) others. This is definitely true of myself … this is part of my story,

My family moved around quite a bit growing up, however, we always settled back to central Arkansas. And although we were (are) a Christian family we did not attend church. This changed in junior high when we began attending a church several miles from our home.

This church was small … very small. On a good day we had around 120 people that attended and the youth group probably averaged 15 or so kids. We were a close group who saw each other several times each week: Sunday mornings, evenings, Wednesday evening, and often another day to play volleyball. I loved the “meet and greet” part of Sunday morning services because because I could walk around the small sanctuary and get hugs from most of the adults.

The fall I turned fifteen years old would begin a season of life that taught me a lot about life, death, and God.

  • August: a youth group member, TM, died of cancer
  • February: a youth group member, and life long friend, RS, was murdered by two men, one he knew from the school bus he rode as a kid. Two weeks prior to his death, RS took me on my first date. :-)
  • March/April: a classmate dies of an allergy to alcohol; an avid hockey fan, we rode the school bus together and he taught me the names of hockey teams and their captains. :-)
  • August/September: a youth group member, SS, drowned after an epilepsy attack in her shower
  • Spring: classmate dies of a car wreck
  • I forgot when: youth group member dies of pernicious anemia
  • Spring, 1 year later: grandfather dies of heart failure
  • I forgot when: the husband of a (dear) couple who took me and RS’s sister out for “distractions” after his death died in a tragic car accident.

In all, four members of our small youth group would die, two classmates, a family member, and an older adult. Three within one year and the others through the next two and a half years. Our church, our family, and our community was shattered by these deaths. As a teenager, I essentially knew death only in terms of tragedy and friendship.

I forgot until recently that comments such as, “Well, good luck”, were made when students found out which church we attended. An interesting memory …

Anyway, these deaths would become an essential part of how I viewed my faith, my work, and (little did I know) my friendships. I did not lose hope or faith in Christ. He was my anchor and hope. This has never waivered. I clung to 1 Corinthians 10:13,

It is odd to be revisiting this time period in my life because I consider it “dealt” with … discussed with college friends, acknowledged, cried over, etc. Apparently not, however. Dianne (my counselor) has used the term “complex grief” to describe this type of trauma and its impact on me. I’m still trying to learn and understand why this is something occupying so much of my time and attention almost twenty years later.

As an answer to that question I have been told that adolescence is a significant period in the development of identity, safety, worldview, etc. for a person. Experiencing such events at this age truncated some of the natural “invulnerability” and “exploration” this stage usually affords people. I hear this, yet have a very hard time understanding why it should have an impact on me today. But, oh yeah … that’s what counseling is for and it become more clear bit by bit. Which is good and not so much fun! :-)

So finally … how did we get to a leave of absence? In late January my supervisor approached me to explain his thoughts after watching me for several months and listening to comments I made in a previous ministerial meeting. He then broached the subject of a leave of absence stating (something like), “I want to ask you to consider a leave of absence, but I’m almost at the point of making you take one.” At that point nothing was definite, no strategy in place, and I was unwilling to think too far ahead … worried that if I got my hopes up I might be disappointed.

What I have told few people is that the timing of the conversation was amazing. Just five days before I had, once again, had the desire to flee, escape, start over. It was disturbing after all the time my counselor and I had spent together over the last year. Yet, simple the words “leave of absence” gave me hope. I would discuss the conversation with Dianne that same afternoon. I considered both conversations a gift from God.

Over the next few weeks we (myself, Dianne, and my supervisor) would work together to create a plan for the leave of absence. The strategy would be an intense period of time in counseling (three times a week in extended sessions), meeting with a spiritual mentor, and identifying a friend to walk through this time with me. I was overwhelmed when the church offered a four to eight week time frame.

So what are we trying to accomplish?
My counselor stated at the beginning that this would be an intense period because a client who continues to work must still be able to function day to day. By removing this daily element of responsibility she will be able to “push” me much harder. I was excited! :-)

I would love to say that after the leave of absence I will no longer need medication or counseling. If only it were so easy and quick! Once we have determined a stable and effective medication I will continue the regimen for at least 6 months and potentially longer. I will also continue counseling after it is over. What we hope is that I will have effectively entered into some of the pain and grief and begun creating new coping methods. I am not attempting to “change” myself but this process is intended to strengthen the person that God has already created me to be.

When I return to work many people may not be able to see a discernable difference. This process is internal and largely intangible. The inability to see quick results is difficult for most people and I am no exception! However, I know that this leave of absence will be beneficial for:

  • personal healing (emotionally, mentally, and physically)
  • my job
  • in relationships (trust, risk, etc.)
  • entering into conflict
  • self-image
  • and on and on and on.

In fact, it has already been good … which is a serious understatement.

How can you pray?
From the beginning I knew that this would be difficult. I would face events long forgotten (or at least not a part of daily life anymore) and emotions would become raw. I don’t typically allow others access to this vulnerable and fragile part of me. Therefore, I knew I could easily become distant from the process and work through it from a 3rd person perspective. This, however, will do me no good. The primary prayer is that I stay engaged throughout the entire process.

I’m entering the fourth week of the leave of absence and I’m tired. I typically have homework that requires quite a bit of time and effort. The daily attention to emotion and the constant evaluation of motivations and thought processes is exhausting. It seems enticing to turn on autopilot and resort to my default mode … however, I really don’t want to. I know the hard work will be worthwhile …

What else?
There are many, many details left untold. Feel free to let me know any questions you have about details, events, etc.!