Leaving Normal Behind

This is the combined content of the three posts I previously posted about my leave of absence from the church (March 10 to April 27, 200

Part I
How do I sum up a lifetime of events and relationships that have led to the point where today I am on a leave of absence from my job? This post will probably not resemble a summary but a short-story. I must issue a caveat before we begin … don’t worry. Just use this as an opportunity to understand where I am in my journey today (and in the past).

Buckle up and settle in for a bit.

Sunday afternoons emit an image of laziness … naps, taking the family to a park, watching football, etc. Often, I would realize on Sunday evening that I had spent the last several hours sitting on my couch with no music or television playing. It was strange but I chalked it up to fatigue and the need for rest. This pattern probably began a little more than three years ago. I hated to waste time but was grateful I lived alone because no one knew what a bum I was!

Eventually I did begin to take naps. However, they were not twenty minute “power naps” but two or three hour blocks of time after work, on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. This caused even more frustration but I didn’t feel that there was an alternative. I could not ignore the fact that I needed sleep. Living alone and these long, daily naps created an isolation that, at that time, I had no intention of remedying.

I already felt an element of isolation due to my role on staff at the church. One church member even stated, “It is unlikely that guys will ask you out since you’re on staff.” Several (girl) friends later agreed that they, too, were initially intimidated. My insecurities probably contributed even more because I tend to be somewhat shy in unknown situations. And although I had previously been on staff at a church, this role blurred the lines between ministry and friends, confusing me as to what “role” I should play in either situation.

These dynamics would all combine, along with an avoidance of telephone calls, so that my internal state of being was typically glum. However, I found great energy and joy with my job, friends, and family, so externally I genuinely exhibited joy, laughter, and compassion. This pattern would unknowingly become my default.

About two years ago I remember a vivid spring morning on my way to work … the crispness and color of the trees and sky struck me. A clarity and lightheartedness existed that day that was atypical. I began to long for those “color” days as I lived in a “black and white” world. Although my physical vision did not change I was operating in a fog that carried a weight and anxiety that seemed normal.

Life continued according to that normal. No questions were asked because nothing was assumed to be out of the ordinary by myself or other people.

Until, that is, I returned to Dallas from a day trip out of town in January 2007. As I saw the city skyline over the horizon I began to have an overwhelming sense of dread and the desire to leave. Immediately. I began to consider everyone I knew in other cities, potential jobs, and living situations. If I had perceived an adequate opportunity I would have left job, friends, and church behind without a second thought.

I was astute enough to realize that this wasn’t normal.

That Monday was a monthly meeting for my departmental team (board). Again, an overwhelming sense of dread occupied my thoughts regarding the meeting. The dread and “don’t want to” had become normal, as well, over the last year or more, however, that night the emotions were heightened. A good friend joined me in my office before the meeting and I soon began to cry. Her response and encouragement gave me the permission I needed to truly acknowledge that this wasn’t normal either.

Twice within three days I had labeled my thoughts as “not normal”. With that realization I called a recommended Christian counselor and had a meeting scheduled with her for the same week.

Although I completed my undergraduate degree in Psychology I had never considered counseling a resource I needed to avail myself to. As an “older” Christian I knew my faith had survived countless trials. I knew that God could be trusted with the circumstances I found myself in and to provide strength in the midst of them.

I have been intrigued over the years by our (Christians) expectations of ourselves regarding behavior, habits, hobbies, spiritual life, food and drink, education, etc. and etc. I am convinced that we have damaged our ability to receive care from the body of Christ because we fear the reaction of others when we do not meet a perceived standard of excellence.

One of the first statements I made as I sat in my first counseling sessions was, “I don’t know why I am here, I just know I need to be.” …

It is way past my bedtime so I will leave the story there and finish it tomorrow! There is still a lot to write …

Part II
I had no idea as I was sitting in Dianne’s office during my first visit that she would soon become a weekly part of my life. In fact, two other questions I asked before the end of the session were, “What does success look like?” and “How will we get there?” The questions were my attempt to understand and categorize this unknown trajectory down which I was hurtling. Rather than an answer I received a chuckle. It was then that I knew I was about to be challenged in ways that I had no way of expecting.

I have been accused by my dear family of being “nosey” … I prefer to say that I am an information junkie that collects data from all sources, whether people, technology, or books. I have a fascination with understanding various perspectives and decision making of people (a great excuse to watch reality television!); enjoy predicting the end of suspense novels or movies; and I particularly enjoy reading and research on just about any topic, particularly something that is applicable to my job or friends and family.

Individually, these are pretty mundane and normal activities … however, I’m coming to accept that in addition to their recreational value I have often used these as opportunities to understand or anticipate the future. This is not meant in a crystal ball sort-of-way but that they allow me to prepare mentally and emotionally for what “might” happen in various circumstances; a means of protection.

Confused about what value this holds for the conversation? Don’t be … just hold on to it.

I don’t remember any of the conversations during my first few months of counseling. However, thankfully I journaled during that time. One note sounded a lot like the first sentence of this paragraph, which made me smile tonight. … “We’ve talked through a lot … explored thing I don’t even remember. I’m honestly trusting God that He will accomplish a work in me that I don’t even realize or am able to ‘assess’. I’m certainly trusting that He is guiding my friends, counselor, and now, psychiatrist, to care for me.”

Yep, several months into my counseling “era” Dianne suggested I visit with a psychiatrist due to her longterm observations. While re-reading the journal I remember the apprehension, yet nonchalance, with which I approached my first psychiatrist appointment. In fact, when he asked me what my thoughts were about the referral I stated, “I don’t know what to think. I am simply doing what I am told. As childish as that seems.” Over the last year I have had to rely on the wisdom and guidance of a few trusted people to direct me. In essence, during this time I have felt a little lost and ill-prepared for every part of the process.

After several visits with the doctor, I was surprised to see a diagnosis code for “Major Depressive Disorder - Moderate” on my exit form. If anything at all, I expected a benign diagnosis … typical moodiness associated with females and hormones, fatigue, poor nutrition, etc. and etc. …. definitely not a diagnosis from DSM-IV.

In my journal I noted quite a few “things I’ve learned or observed” during this time period, as well as a prayer:

• “I am overwhelmed by the support and encouragement of friends. Julie N. and Mom have even said they are proud of me for taking steps to address this.
• The last week has actually been a little more difficult since the diagnosis. I do not want to give [human] words power in my life but they have made this real.
• I am more willing to exist in and admit (parts of) weakness since the diagnosis. It has given me reason to slow down.
• My spiritual life has suffered. Yet my faith remains strong.”

“I pray for restoration:
May I be faithful to God. To the journey He is guiding me through. May this journal be a record so that I do not forget … these weeks, months, or years … the steps. That I do not forget the love and care of friends and family. That I do not forget the faithfulness of God. That I will be inspired and equipped to care for others out of my own experience. I never expected to be 32 years old … diagnosed with Depression … taking medication. May it be used to bring me to wholeness. To a greater love of God. A more full and honest understanding of His grace.”

Along with the diagnosis came a prescription for an antidepressent, Effexor XR. I am not a responsible “medicine-taker”, in fact … I forget to take tylenol when I have a headache. So, not only would I have to create new habits but I would need to address many internal apprehensions regarding the use of antidepressants. I am thankful for the women in my bible study. They are godly, wise women who gave great encouragement and counsel. Their friendship and advice provided me the confidence and peace to continue the regimen.

However, the medicine definitely was not a cure for what ailed.

In late April and March I journaled:

I want to write some things down that characterize my state of mind — on the way home from work yesterday I kept wondering if I would ever stop dreading things. It really doesn’t matter what it is - immediately after saying ‘yes’ … to friends, work, meetings, events, etc. … I don’t want to go. Fiercely.

I home got yesterday around 5 pm and immediately laid on the couch for a nap. I could not believe it when I woke up at 9 pm! I just decided to wash my face and climb into bed.

…

One thing marched through my head today, over and over, ‘I have nothing to offer of myself.’ Meaning … within relationships. I feel empty. Void of the strength to care or listen. I am distracted. I am self-centered. I don’t like this place because I have defined myself as the opposite. How long will it take to change this?

…

I took three and four hour naps over the weekend. I kind of feel like I’m starting to turn a corner … a big, long curve but the momentum seems to be there.

…

Things seem to be well on-track regarding counseling and medicine. I told (a friend) tonight that things seem to be ‘in color’ again. Today it definitely felt like I was fading a bit, but not bad. I still have the ‘I don’t want to’s” but they are over-ridden (willingly) most of the time. I really haven’t had any problems with the medicine. Praise God!”

Disappointingly, the euphoria and good-times would not last. By mid-August the medicine had caused an extreme spike in my blood pressure and a large weight gain. We decided the benefits of the medication did not outweigh the side effects and I began to transition onto another medicine. This was an anxious and somewhat scary period of time because I began experiencing withdrawal symptoms from the first medication. When I finally completed tapering off the antidepressant(s) I wanted to wait out the next month or two in order to determine if I “really needed” the medication.

Everything was chugging along normally for almost a month. I continued with my counseling and was encouraged by the “normalcy” I was experiencing. Abruptly, however, it became clear through the counsel of family, friends, and roommates that all was not well. I would begin visiting a new psychiatrist in late September to begin the process again.

Once again, it is time for me to get some sleep. I’ll try to finish this tomorrow. Maybe not, though … I’m writing a lot more than I intended, and yes … there is still much more background information regarding the current “state of affairs”.

Part III
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.!