Brennan Manning, in A Glimpse of Jesus: The Stranger to Self-Hatred:
“No antecedent beauty enamors me in his eyes. I am lovable because he loves me. Period.”
Daily Blog
A brand new study in Food Science and Nutrition suggests that the natural plant extract, lycopene (eat tomatoes and you’ll get it, eat sun-dried tomates and you’ll get even more) reduces depressive symptoms of depression in mice by enhancing a key protein involved in brain health and associated with depression.
Here’s the upshot.
Scientists took 60 mice and induced depression in them by stressing them out (interestingly).
Then they divided the critters into two groups, and gave one group a bunch of lycopene and the other a corn oil placebo.
The mice that got the lycopene started mixing socially with other mice and showed greater mouse joie de vivre.
The mice that got the corn oil placebo remained the ending of Jules and Jim – awful depression.
So the lycopene appeared to help, but how?
SciTech Daily notes that it enhanced brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDFN)* which is an essential protein for brain function, memory, and learning. Further, in the depressed mice, BDFN expression was reduced.
Lycopene treatment helped restore this pathway, potentially improving neural communication and brain health.
That’s great news, particularly considering that you can get lots of lycopene from eating tomatoes, watermelon, papaya, guava, and cooked sweet red peppers (plus, as Healthline notes, there are loads of potential benefits you can get from lycopene for other physical conditions).
However, as Tracy Swartz at the NY Post notes, the study does point out some limitations.
First, the mice were given an incredibly high dose of lycopene to reach the mouse joie de vivre.
In fact, it was double the amount per day that’s currently considered safe for a human to consume, on a pound-for-pound basis!
The researchers acknowledged the limitation in the paper, as well as a few more — limiting their study to male mice and only looking at lycopene’s effect on the hippocampus.
In other words, chronic depression in humans is much more complex than a short scientific experiment involving male mice.
However, the study does advance research on the role of BDNF and depression (potentially leading to more significant therapies for the disease) and further suggests that eating lycopene (if it’s safe for you) can theoretically provide benefit, in some way.
So it’s a worthwhile and interesting study.
From a personal point of view, as someone who’s suffered from chronic depression, I’ve tried lots of diets and this is a very individual disease and we each have unique bodies, and it’s been hard to say that diet has helped me. But it would be impossible to prove it hasn’t, because we never know what helps us at the margin.
Before taking antidepressants, it seemed nothing helped me, but again, everyone’s disease is different. Maybe diet works for some, maybe it doesn’t work for others.
But at the very least, we do know that eating a healthy diet is good for your body in other ways.
*BDNF’s role in brain diseases other than depression has been studied, including its links with neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimers, Parkinsons, and Huntingtons. It’s remarkable how many ways depression and neurodegenerative diseases overlap in key brain processes.
In the meantime, if you’re struggling with depression, anxiety, or any other mood disorder (all medical conditions)….
For readers in the United States…
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
[Painting: Plant de Tomates, Picasso]
In general, I think the word “story” is a bit overused in Christian lexicon these days, but in his book Searching for Enough, Tyler Staton invokes “story” in a way that I hope makes you feel important and recognized, because often, in our illness, we feel so useless (excessive self-criticism is a symptom of many disorders).
Staton uses the word “because” in his exposition on story, and often the word “because” can throw us because there’s so much “because” that’s befuddling, but if we understand Christianity properly, “because” can inject us with some life-giving energy, and give us the sense again that who we are matters to God.
Not just for this earth, but for all of eternity.
Staton:
“The English novelist E.M. Forster draws a distinction between a story and a plot with the single word because. A story is merely events arranged chronologically — ‘the king died and then the queen died’.
A plot occurs when the focus zeroes in on the causality, the because of those events — ‘the king died and then the queen died of grief’.”
Staton then applies Forster’s remarkably simple but magical word “because” for great writing to your Christian life, and the Because of you revolves around the Because of Christ.
“The question Jesus’ life leaves us with is this: Is it merely a story, or is it a plot?
Is his life only a series of events, or is it something more coherent, the first and greatest because?
To answer this question, we are forced to engage a similar, but much more personal question: Is my life merely a story, or is it a plot? Am I the sum total of chronological events, or is there a coherent plot?”
The greatest because? I love that. Christ’s life was the greatest because there ever was.
And if we really believe that Jesus came to die for us, because he wanted to defeat death, sin, and raise us to share in his inheritance, then we can go forward in life knowing that we matter to his plan because he created us for a reason.
And just as Christ’s entire life, from virgin birth to resurrection, was linked by a series of redemptive because’s, so, indeed, your life and my life is linked by a series of redemptive because’s, as well.
We may be facing unbelievably difficult circumstances, disorders, and diseases, but Jesus did as well — because that was the cup he had to drink from on earth to drink the one when he was reunited with his Father.
When we look at how perfectly transparent and redemptive the because’s were in Christ’s life, we can know it’s the same for us, even if we can’t see it.
And that’s because we don’t live life in perfect retrospection. Instead, we get caught in relentless introspection, and it can drag us down and take our eyes off the fact that we know how it all ends.
The drama of life will never stop, just as the drama in a story or movie continues, but there will be a discharge in that war. An It’s A Wonderful Life Ending moment for you and me, and methinks Jesus can cook up something better than Frank Capra, no?
So think about your because in the light of your final redemption. That’s super hard to do. Our disease makes it even harder.
But just think of how clear each because was in Christ’s life, and even though he was a man of sorrows, he did end up rising up from the grave.
You and I will rise up from our physical graves too (and the graves we often mentally feel stuck in).
Because Christ did, you and I will.
In the meantime, if you’re struggling with depression, anxiety, or any other mood disorder (all medical conditions)….
For readers in the United States…
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
[Painting: Les Disciples Pierre et Jean courant au Sépulcre le matin de la Résurrection, Eugene Burnand]
Dr. Susanne Babbel has a good piece at Psychology Today on some of the important distinctions between trauma and PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), and how treating trauma effectively can help prevent it from turning into its more insidious progeny – PTSD.
Her key point: “Trauma is less about the event itself and more about how the body and mind respond to it.“
We experience trauma after going through an event that puts us in fight-or-flight survival mode, which Peter Levine defined as “the experience of being overwhelmed by life-threatening events which exceed one’s capacity to process the experience at the time.”
Of course, whether it’s an objectively life-threatening event or not is beside the point.
One person might say, “Hey the bomb went off 100 yards from me! I wasn’t even close to getting hurt!” Another person might think, “But it was only 100 yards away.”
So don’t get hung up on whether your experience meets the criteria of “life-threatening,” because sure, watching your house burn down on TV while you’re in a different city might not threaten your life, but it changes it dramatically and traumatically, doesn’t it?
I think the key point in Levine’s definition is that a traumatic experience occurs when it “exceed[s] one’s capacity to process the experience at the time.”
That’s when we get into flight-or-fight survival mode, and if that persists for over a month, then PTSD starts to become the issue, and PTSD is a far more difficult beast to address than the triggering trauma.
So what to do if you face trauma?
Well, first get in touch with a doctor (psychiatrist or therapist – links below).
That’s always the “first” for any medical condition – whether you break a bone or experience a trauma (of course, we can pray on the way to the doctor, but we can’t overly spiritualize bodily disease).
Also, Babbel notes just how important community support is in healing. For example, her own research shows that survivors of 9/11 experienced far less trauma than survivors of Hurricane Katrina, thanks to a disparity in community support, socioeconomics, displacement and media portrayal.
There are many things we can’t address (to society’s discredit, the poor will will never have the resources of the rich for health).
But finding community and connecting with existing community is utterly vital to help keep trauma from becoming PTSD.
Babbel also recommends bodily things like vagus nerve exercises, breathing exercises, and practicing the emotional freedom technique (if someone thinks EFT tapping is mumbo-jumbo, then they’re arguing against compelling research, showing it can make a huge difference in relieving symptoms of PTSD – not just in veterans but nurses and other cohorts).
I want to finish on this concept of community.
Recently, I wrote about how difficult it is to connect with community (or even find it, or have the courage to find it) when you have PTSD.
Both the process and the connection can trigger another wave of trauma if you encounter the wrong community, and it’s absolutely vital to sort through this with a doctor.
I’ve found the Christian church a real hit-or-miss on trauma.
Sometimes community has brought me great relief; other times, it’s only brought additional trauma that’s worsened by the fact that it’s at the hands of the community that’s supposed to be the hands of Christ.
You might have experienced the same.
There are thousands of testimonials of Christians who found anything but support in the church when going through trauma and it’s a black mark of shame on the church, because Jesus came to those living with traumatic wounds, PTSD, every kind of malady, and he feels so heartbroken by the heartbroken that he spent his life, healing our wounds, and used up his death, to heal our transgressions.
Jesus treated the sick in body and sick in sin with distinctly different approaches, and the church should show a similar approach.
Too often, the church has used an inherent distrust of psychology to abuse victims of those suffering from trauma and PTSD, and if you’ve been a victim of those diseases and an indifferent church’s response to it, my heart and prayers go out to you (if you want a poignant account of this, read my interview with author Sarah Robinson, who went to a church that treated her depression as though it were a failure of faith, and thus, sent her into a further spiral).
That is not the heart of Jesus. The heart of Jesus was a bleeding one, and he is the only one on earth or heaven who can look at your pain, and say I know, I care so deeply for you and mean it to the point of the cross.
So again, look first in the direction of a therapist or psychiatrist, and then see if you can find a community that won’t abuse your pain. Hopefully, your church looks something like the community that can help in you healing! But if it’s not, I understand and, in the absence of the church’s support, have often found help from the kindhearted, regardless of spiritual belief.
If you suspect you have PTSD, are anxious, depressed, or struggle with any aspect of mental health…
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
Because the Son rose, we will rise.
“Won’t you dry all your tears, lay your burden down” – The Brilliance.
If you’re struggling with depression, anxiety, or any other mood disorder (all medical conditions)….
For readers in the United States…
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
May the Lord bless you, dear friends.
A new study in Neuron, conducted by Harvard researchers, showed that anxious mice restricted food or even starved themselves to help reduce symptoms of anxiety, mimicking classic behaviors in anorexia nervosa.
The study suggests a biological basis for why extreme anxiety can lead to caloric restriction, and I’d invite you to either read the study for the whole scoop or Amy McDermott’s briefer recap here.
But basically, the science involves the hunger circuitry of the brain which includes AgRP neurons.
When those neurons were stimulated, mice ate more and suddenly grew bolder (in contrast with anxious mice) and started to “wander into unsheltered areas or walk across shock grids to forage.”
The study is valuable because it provides both a mouse and the beginnings of a biological-model for a phenomenon well-known in clinical practice – stress can lead to caloric deprivation.
The authors note that human patients with anorexia nervosa will describe self-starvation as “pleasant, potentially because food restriction can be anxiolytic.”
In other words, sometimes patients with anorexia nervosa will restrict – not just because of body image, although that might be part of the equation – but also because restriction involves some kind of relief from the extreme stress they’re experiencing.
And that makes sense, doesn’t it.
I don’t know about you, but for me, throughout life, during moments of extreme duress, food doesn’t just become a second thought, it also becomes somewhat repulsive because stress can rob me of appetite.
Of course, that’s not true for everyone. At all. Many people eat more heavily under extreme stress, as a way of coping.
But regardless, it seems that stress serves as the impetus for one behavior or the other.
Thus, it sort of logically follows that treating anxiety might be one way of getting at the eating disorder.
Of course, that’s a very simplistic solution to an enormously challenging disease. And an enormously deadly one.
Anorexia nervosa is the most deadly mental disorder, and it should be noted that 55-97% of its victims also suffer from other mood disorders such as major depression, anxiety disorders, PTSD, personality disorders and others.
Up to 20% of those with the disorder will pass away from complications related to the disease within 20 years.
Of those complications, suicide remains the leading cause of early mortality.
It’s also common for cardiovascular issues, directly tied to anorexia, to threaten victims. As the heart shrinks from starvation, a host of complications occur that can lead to early death.
Gastrointestinal disorders are also common (also associated with starvation’s effects), as are endocrine disorders.
In short, this is a disease that wreaks havoc on a victim’s mind and body, making it one of the hardest to treat and most tragic. We can’t necessarily see depression or anxiety on a face (many of us are good at masking it), but the effect of an eating disorder is obvious.
Finally, here are some resources on eating disorders:
Eating Disorder Hope’s website, which offers a terrific overview of the condition, statistics, and research.
The National Institute of Mental Health on eating disorders, including signs, symptoms, risk factors, treatments and help.
A 24/7 hotline for those struggling with eating disorders or any other mental health disorder.
Six Common Types of Eating Disorders.
And find an eating disorder therapist near you.
Also, remember, that this study is further proof that stress responses can lead to anorexia-like behavior, as well as the condition itself. Thus, with other mood disorders presenting so frequently with anorexia, I’ll include my usual links for those disorders.
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
May the Lord bless you, dear friends.
[Photo: Pexels, free photos]
We don’t often use the word “defeat” in the Christian life, except when we say “God defeated death on the cross.” That’s the defeat we love. But what about the fact that every Christian needs to be defeated, continually, in order to really come into communion with the Lord?
In his book, Dark Night of the Shed, author Nick Page offers a terrific look at the phenomenon of midlife crises, using Jacob’s midlife wrestle with God in the desert as the focal point of his narrative.
And defeat is where he arrives. At the hands of our loving God.
Page:
“The first thing we have to do is to follow Jacob’s example and have a good wrestle. Paradoxically, we will never find real peace unless we accept God’s invitation to fight.
….And the fight will show us that we cannot win in our own strength.
Jacob was a strong man, but when it came to the final round he was beaten easily. But that’s okay. We have to be defeated by God, because it is only in that defeat that we will find victory.
….God knows Jacob’s true identity. What he’s interested in is whether Jacob knows it.
…. And God is so pleased with him [Jacob] that he does the most loving thing he can. He defeats him.
Think of that – the most loving thing God can do to us is defeat us, and yes, there are scars from that, but God promises life from it too.
Maybe not the life we’d hoped for, maybe not even life as the word implies (often our diseases make us feel closer to death), but we know that eternal life is on the horizon and I would rather have the hope of that than the present certainty of anything else.
As the famous hymn says: “Be still my soul, thy best thy heavenly friend/through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.” (btw, never knew Sibelius wrote the music to “Be Still My Soul”).
There’s a consistent thread running throughout Page’s book that’s salient for any person’s life as we approach our middle years: in our youth, we’re filled with aspiration, we seem to gain more control of our life, and there’s a sense of conquest (in the best sense of the word) and exploration where anything is possible.
I think it was novelist Graham Greene who once observed that much of the first part of our life is experience, and much of the rest observation of that experience (partly true, partly not, imho).
I’ve found that we can get trapped in that observation if it becomes melancholy nostalgia, we can also lose ourselves in depression and sorrow as it becomes increasingly clear that all those aspirations and explorations have meant little in the absence of true service to something Bigger (i.e. God).
Page writes, “It is a disturbing thing, that dark night moment when you realize that the gods to whom you have given your life have let you down. And the reason that it occurs in middle age more than at any other time is, I think, because in the first half of life we can still hold out the hope that they will deliver on their promises.”
So true.
Despite our intellectual monotheism, we often unwittingly live in service of others gods – if not consistently, then intermittently – as we pin our hopes on something other than Jesus as Deliverer.
It’s so easy for us, for me, to fall into oblivious idolatry, where we live as though our emotional deliverance will come from the fulfillment of an earthly aspiration. And so we prostrate ourselves to certain pursuits, unconsciously thinking they will bring happiness, and soon enough, we’re bowing down before a foreign god.
And that’s what Page is talking about.
Christians are as prone to this as anyone. In fact, it’s why Paul begged the church to “set its mind on the reality of heaven,” because only then can life on earth truly flourish.
Maybe it’s good that our physical health starts to decline in middle-age. I hate even writing that.
For me, at least, I’ve gotten a taste the past few years of incessant hospital trips, doctor’s visits, suddenly limited abilities, and it’s something I’ve fought against, but it’s also jarred me into a truth that the best of life that lies ahead comes from above – not from some new exploration on earth.
That’s a difficult thing to accept, actually, and is a kind of defeat, and I don’t know about you, but I feel as though we all struggle in our fight against God’s will for our lives, even as we pray for that will’s revelation and embrace the idea of following it. In theory.
Every epoch of our lives comes with new challenges, but middle-age introduces us to a new “new.”
When we were young, “new” often came with more independence and adventure. Freshness. We associated the word with promise more than anything. It’s not so much “new” as a description, but as a synonym for excitement and aspiration.
In middle age, “new” suddenly turns into what the word really means. Something different, “not existing as before.” It promises nothing other than that.
Except very often, it’s a headache of some kind that didn’t exist before.
That’s not bleak. It’s a well-documented phenomenon that unhappiness peaks in our middle-aged years, precisely because we’re aware of lost time, losing time, and the fact “new” means something brand new. It’s not the synonym for “excitement” it once was, but now just a cold word that promises nothing other than “not existing as before.”
We have to face up to it, because we’re forced into it. The fight with God.
And that’s where our relationship with him can either flourish or wither.
We don’t feel it’s a fight with God, but deep inside, if we look hard enough, that’s often exactly what it is.
And we all need to remember that final line by Page about the wrestle: “God is so pleased with him [Jacob] that he does the most loving thing he can. He defeats him.”
Except I wonder if any of us is truly defeated short of heaven.
In fact, heaven could be described as an absence of struggle, and if humanity’s original and continual struggle is communion with God as King, then maybe that’s one of the greatest things about heaven. We no longer struggle against God there, we are happy to be wholly his, and there is no more fight, because just as he defeated death for us, so he’s finally defeated us in life, and in doing so, liberated us from ourselves.
Jacob has no limp in heaven.
But during this earthly fight, we must always remember, “Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side.”
If you’re struggling with depression or anxiety or any other brain condition like these…
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
[Painting: The Charge of the Lancers, Umberto Boccioni].
Here it is, from Jeremiah 32:27 (ESV).
“The word of the Lord came to Jeremiah, ‘Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh. Is anything too hard for me?”
He is the Lord of all flesh, and think about that phrase: “Is anything too hard for me?”
At first glance, our minds go to God saying, “Yes, I can move that rock, Jeremiah.”
But it’s actually a broader statement than that, according to Strong.
There, the definition of the Hebrew word for “hard” means “to be wonderful, extraordinary, to be difficult, to be marvelous.“
In other words, it’s more than just God’s simple, brute force. It’s also his beauty and the marvel in the marriage of the two.
God isn’t just flexing his muscles and saying he’s stronger than anything. He seems to be saying his strength works in concert with the wonderful, marvelous thing he’s going to use that strength for.
Like Christ crushing the snake in the garden. Strength and marvel.
Which leads to our redemption. And our hope.
The wiping away of tears, sorrow, pain – all that we read about in Revelation (but still don’t believe most hours of the day, God help me).
That’s the strength and marvel of it all.
So tonight, today, whenever you’re reading this, remember: God is stronger, has already….
….And will do something far greater and more marvelous than we could imagine, thanks to the strength and marvel of crushing that snake.
If you feel stuck in forever, you won’t be. Keep running the race. Even if it means running it from a place of despair. Even if it’s running it from bed, or a strangely hopeless faith that somehow still manages to be faith.
The strength that crushed the snake is now working for you. Behind the scenes, it’s working in a way you can’t believe.
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
[Photo: The Passion of the Christ].
The United States Department of Veterans Affairs has a helpful primer on classic signs and symptoms of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
And with PTSD suddenly in the news again, as ubiquitous as it is (6% lifetime prevalence in the United States, a surge globally — look at Spain), and as silent a destroyer as it is, I wanted to highlight two key symptoms that don’t immediately come to mind in the popular conceptualization of PTSD.
Beyond the “classic signs”, The American Psychiatric Association includes this key bit, and I’ve bolded and italicized the symptoms that lurk as dangerous as any other.
People with PTSD have intense, disturbing thoughts and feelings related to their experience that last long after the traumatic event has ended. They may relive the event through flashbacks or nightmares; they may feel sadness, fear or anger; and they may feel detached or estranged from other people.
That bit about sadness, detachment, and estrangement is the part you might feel, but not recognize as symptoms of PTSD.
If you feel overwhelming sadness and estrangement for a protracted period after a triggering event, it’s a good idea to check with a doctor and get their opinion.
You might have PTSD, and instead of growing angry and volatile, you turn inward and find it difficult to engage with the world as you knew it before the triggering event occurred.
And that’s because the world as you knew it seems to have fundamentally changed, and the slew of things unrolling over time can be surprising, unnerving, and we don’t know what’s going on because things that seem totally unrelated to the trigger provoke symptoms.
You might panic over driving your car, when the traumatic event had nothing with driving, at all.
You might have trouble ordering a coffee and you don’t know why, because what could ever have gone wrong with ordering a coffee? Yet there you are, and ordering coffee can fill you with dread and where did that come from?
And interacting with people you knew before? That’s where it gets enormously tricky.
Again, there’s this sense the world has started to spin in a different direction from before, and you’re suddenly a newborn baby, except that you don’t have naive wonder, only disconsolate fear.
“How do I survive in this new world?” You might ask yourself quietly.
And we do ask it quietly.
While the rest live, we “live” too. On the same but different world.
And you’re terrified about it all, but you stay quiet and don’t talk about it with others because…
A) they’ll say they “get it” but, if they’ve never been through it, you suspect that “no, they don’t get it” because you never got it before you got it.
Or…
B) they won’t get it at all, and you’ll see the skepticism on their face as you’re sharing your pain, and you know how that skepticism will intensify your bleed, and it’s not just your pain they’re unwittingly violating, but also, it feels, your very soul. I’m not being hyperbolic there.
And that’s because trauma and pain is sacred.
In his book, A Crazy Holy Grace: The Healing Power of Memory and Pain, Frederick Buechner (whose father committed suicide when he was just a boy) describes just how sacred and precious (as in rare, valuable, fragile) it is.
“Pain is treasure. Pain is horror. Pain is that which tempts you like Christ on the cross to say, “My God, my God, why did you abandon me?’ Pain is negation of everything that seems precious.”
If you think of your pain as something precious (and certainly God does), then it’s understandable why you might keep it to yourself.
It’s both an instinctive and protective response.
And because the feelings often paralyze us, well, that word explains it. If the world feels fundamentally unsafe, then how can a strange doctor’s office be any different?
So yeah, we keep it to ourselves.
And that leads to the sadness and estrangement that the American Psychiatric Association talks about it.
I would urge you talk to a psychiatrist or psychologist about it. I know that sounds easier than it is. But they will be a safe place with the thing you can’t explain to anyone else – the awful thing you can’t explain from a failure of your emotional capacity. I know this from experience.
A professional will know, they will recognize. They will not dishonor your pain. They will treat it as something precious and rare.
And then, the bonus is that they can help you start on the process to healing.
Finally, I want to add this.
Once you feel you’ve made some kind of progress, under professional guidance, then I’d offer this observation from my personal experience (and I’m still definitely a work in progress).
I’ve found myself starting to open up around others who are clearly struggling with PTSD, as well. Not with the rest of the world but anyone I see in that place. That basement, that Sheol, and you recognize it, and you share your experience, and it can lead to exactly what Paul described when he talked about strengthening each other.
My closest friendships have come from those who’ve been to that place.
Now when it comes to PTSD, sometimes we think, “Well, I was never in a war, I’m not a vet.” But I can tell you that we all fight our own battles, and as T.S. Eliot reminded us in “The Four Quartets,” all pain really is unique and the same.
And here, I end with Buechner’s final thought on pain as treasure from the passage I quoted above.
“It seems to me so significant that we can come together in places where there is a sense of safety. And, as we come together and try to give each other the most precious thing we have to give because in some sense or another we love each other, what we give each other again and again is our pain. The most precious thing I have to tell you about is the sadness. You don’t have to talk about pain, but you have to live out your pain. Speak out of your depths.”
So… if you think you have PTSD, talk to a professional about it. In fact, by the time we look for help, PTSD has hardened in many. After all, sometimes it’s tough to know if an acute thing is going to turn into an ongoing thing.
Here are some resources for more on the condition, some helpful guides, and links to professional help at the bottom.
The NHS’ guide.
The University of Rochester Medical Center: Healing from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.
WebMD: “What are the treatments for PTSD?”
Compassion Behavioral Health: “Explaining PTSD Recovery Stages.”
Finally, a key research finding from 2024, explained in this Harvard piece: “PTSD’s genetic component validated in new study,” and I write about it here.
I pray for you, for me, for all of us. We depend on Christ, and as Brennan Manning wrote, “All is mercy.”
If you suspect you have PTSD, are anxious, depressed, or struggle with any aspect of mental health…
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.
[Photo: A classic photo from my favorite movie — in that film, Jimmy Stewart was genuinely channeling his extreme PTSD from returning as a pilot from WW2. Which is why I think his George Bailey is one of the most compelling performances in cinematic history.].
Tish Harrison Warren, in her wonderful book Prayer in the Night, notes a Compline prayer that begins “shield the joyous.”
If you asked me what that phrase meant, I’d immediately say, “Oh, it’s a prayer to guard joyous people or something like that” and move on.
But she gets to a very different point, a waaaaay better one – especially for those of us who battle with all the things we do.
“In this prayer we recognize the vulnerability of joy.
We ask God to shield the joyous, to protect the part of us that’s courageous enough to believe that good things happen.
…. We have to learn to trust God in order to receive even good things from him.
And learning to receive good things from God is difficult, especially if you’ve been hurt. It’s hard to learn to trust goodness and beauty.
It takes practice to face the reality of darkness, but also to ask for — and hope for — light.
To risk joy requires hope. And hope is the opposite of anxiety. I am habitually anxious. I catastrophize. I plan for the worst. This habit leads me to, as they say in the South, ‘borrow trouble’.
Horrors could happen, so I start mourning them ahead of time — it’s never too early to get a jump start on misery.”
Now… read this next bit, where she contrasts the well-worn phrase “borrow trouble” with something more difficult.
Warren:
“To hope is to ‘borrow grace’. It is not naive optimism. Hope admits the truth of our vulnerability. It does not trust God to keep all bad things from happening. But it assumes that redemption, beauty, and goodness will be there for us, whatever lies ahead.
… I have to learn again and again to risk joy, to intentionally practice hope.”
Amen.
And… that’s hard thing to do – and may be quite impossible if you have major depression or anxiety etc, hence my links at the bottom (I wrote about the “All is vanity” depression here, and it gets to the heart of a depressive symptom called anhedonia, which has a medical basis, is a medical condition).
So I get why it might be impossible to “practice joy”, because very often I can’t, either, and it’s often a medical thing.
But we can look for treatment and while we pursue that avenue, we can still try to “risk joy.” Try to try to hope.
It’s extremely hard for me to “risk joy” when things are dark and hopeless. Frankly, I usually don’t.
And it’s why my pessimism instinctively relates so much to that line from the old Pet Shop Boys B-side “Miserablism”: “Deny that happiness is open as an option/And disappointment disappears overnight.”
In a way, that attitude feels an emotionally safer way to live, because it’s more believable, because so much of life on earth is life on earth.
But the New Testament is full of “our hope in Christ,” and we do know the way all this ends.
And the more we set our minds on the reality of heaven, as Paul urges us to do in Colossians, the more energized we’ll become at doing our work on earth (provided, of course, we’re being treated for a medical condition we might have that allows us emotional energy).
And the more we work on earth with heaven in mind, the more heaven will touch the earth, and we might just be surprised that the Lord fills us with joy when we thought it was impossible.
I’m going to try to risk joy this week (and of course, already my mind is telling me, “how dare you?”). Feel free to try with me.
If you’re anxious, depressed, or struggle with any aspect of mental health…
For readers from the United States….
Find a psychiatrist here.
Find a therapist here.
For readers, internationally, seek help from a local resource.
For salvation, Christ and Christ alone.