Gestation of Darkness
(This is a silhouette of a pregnant woman in case you can’t tell)
I have recently been in the midst of the most severe bout of depression of my life. That’s saying a lot, for those of you who knew me 6 or 7 years ago. Part of how I have been helping myself is to draw almost every day. I’m not sure I’d call it art, but it is therapeutic.
When we are depressed, our bodies and everything around us seem consumed with darkness. But, because of my previous experiences of depression, I believe that hidden deep in the blackness is beauty that is growing and waiting to emerge. (It took me about two months and a hospital stay to start believing this again, so I’m not saying hope comes naturally in depression.)
In my first significant experience of depression as an adult, I experienced a deep knowledge of God accompanying me in my suffering. In my second depression, which also marked the beginning of what I would call the Dark Night of the Soul, I found all the foundations of my life unravelling. But most significantly, what unravelled (and still is coming undone, honestly) was a lot of unhealthy and unhelpful ways of relating to God. This period of time started opening space in my life for new appreciation of mystery, a reluctant willingness to face uncertainty, and a new practice of courage and authenticity both with myself and with others. These painful periods of my life have changed me for the better. And I’m beginning to believe that good change is on its way this time too.
That hidden gestation of beauty in the darkness is what I was trying to capture in my sketch this morning. And I wondered if it might give hope to someone else as well. I would love to hear in the comments if it means something to you.
From my heart to yours,
Christen
Beautiful.
I truly understand, Christen, as I have been depressed for most of my adult life. I was very emotional in my relationship with God when I was a young and new believer, but the depression didn’t become clear until I had the stress of children and missionary life and then it expressed itself with rage and unpredictable emotions with my family. After much confession and forgiveness, it became a long dark period of wanting to stay indoors and feel nothing, especially during fall and winter months. But, fortunately, a Christian professional and friend pointed me to a Psychiatrist and I’ve received help via medication and 30 years of Chrstian counseling through out. I’ve been helped by listening prayer…to know the unconditional love of God, but another Christian friend and counselor believes there are other issues underneath. I hope to someday have the puzzle resolved…and I hope you will find your point of peace as well.
You already know that I still carry around that idea of the winter — darkness, wilderness, however we image it — being a time of rest and hidden growth or change. I like this addition of pregnancy to the imagery.
Christen, you writings are truly a blessing. Even in your ‘darkness’ you shine forth the Light of the Word. I am so thankful that your writing and drawing bring you healing….and touch others in the process. My counselor has been telling me to ‘change my mind’, to ‘take captive my thoughts and make them obedient to Christ’! I have had to make a decision that I will choose the truth of God and to recognize the lies that my mind brings forth when I am feeling lonely or depressed. I have had to make a choice. It doesn’t make it easy. It doesn’t make it the only answer! But, this was really a huge answer to my situation personally. The synapsis of my brain had been trained to think negatively, and I had to work at training them to be positive. When I made the decision to follow through with this, the Holy Spirit enabled me and strengthened me for the journey. I am still on the journey, but I find strength day by day to grow closer in intimacy with the Lord! Big hugs.
You may not find the answers, but I hope the journey leads you to the light.
Christen, I’m so sorry to hear about your pain. There really aren’t words are there. Thank you for trying to find some.
I think it is great that you are expressing it. One of the worst things we can do when depressed is to hide and keep it to ourselves. Thanks for sharing. I knew right away what your drawing was since I myself am sticking out like that.
Thanks for sharing. Hope and truth. In my own experience, both so very difficult to experience in the midst of depression.
Wow, I love and appreciate you guys so much. Thank you!
It has been hard to see you struggle and suffer. I know that when I’ve gone through struggles, there is almost nothing anyone can say or do to lift me. It’s stuff that has to be worked through on my own. I also know, as a counselor, that there is no magic key to getting over sadness and struggle. But I hope you know how very loved you are regardless of whether you are up or down, and also I hope you know that your worth and my love for you don’t depend on the resolution of the struggle. You are simply loved.
[...] Comments « Hope in Depression [...]
I agree with Daddy (and with all the other posts). You are tremendously loved. Before, through, and after all struggle and depression, I just love you so much wherever you are. I love that you were drawing your way out of your pain. What a cathartic exercise and a hopeful discipline. The sketch you posted here is really lovely. I like the color of fire at its center blossoming slowly and growing, as you’ve positioned the metaphor, like a child, and I like the placement of the hope seeded where it is. (Can’t help but notice that the happiness is located far from the head.
No wonder it takes such a long time to travel into cognitive awareness.) Beautiful.