• Kelsey's Posts

    The Silencing of Mental Illness

    April 15, 2020

    Mental illness causes a loss of self. One loses the ability to clearly and rationally think for themselves. Becoming someone so unlike who you truly are is an extreme type of agony. The harder one may try to change their mood or do things that they would normally do, the worse the feelings become and the more impossible simple tasks become. What’s worse is the inability to communicate the pain and agony that one is undergoing when dealing with some type of mental illness.

    “If the pain were readily describable most of the countless sufferers from this ancient affliction would have been able to confidently depict for their friends and loved ones, even their physicians, some of the actual dimensions of their torment, and perhaps elicit a comprehension that has been generally lacking. Such incomprehension has usually been due, not to a failure of sympathy, but to the basic inability of healthy people to imagine a form of torment so alien to everyday experience. For myself, the pain is most closely connected to drowning or suffocation. But even these images are off the mark. Psychologist and philosopher William James, who battled depression for many years gave up the search for an adequate portrayal implying the near impossibility…” – Aaron Kheriaty.

    This inability to communicate the pain that one experiences with mental illness causes a greater sense of loneliness and isolation. “The insidious power of mental illnesses to break down and debilitate the sufferer lies partly in their being simultaneously non-verbal and de-verbalizing, ineffable and silencing. They elude powers of speech even while they rob the person of such powers, making articulation of the pain even more difficult and less likely.” – Emily Stetler. This silencing convinces the person that they are the only ones feeling the way that they do, making them begin to want to blame themselves. Those who haven’t experienced it will assume that they know what it is like, causing them to try to tell those struggling with mental illness what they need to do to get better, when in reality, no one truly knows what it is like until they experience it for themselves.

    People who experience or have experienced some kind of mental illness view the world differently. We can learn from them, for weakness leads to God. In John chapter nine, Jesus says that a man’s disability is not because he or his parents have sinned, “but it is so that the work of God may be manifested in him.”

    The reason I want to advocate for mental health is because typically those experiencing it are unable to effectively advocate for themselves, at least it is extremely difficult. I want to start the conversation about it, because this topic is so often just hushed. I want to be a voice for those who feel like they have lost theirs. I want to shed a little light on the darkness that is mental illness.

    As always, you are all in my prayers, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you are in need of someone to talk to.

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  • Kelsey's Posts

    Depression or Dark Night?

    September 7, 2019

    How can there be pain and suffering when there is an all-powerful and all-good God? Is there a reason for our pain and suffering? These are two very important questions that all Christians should be asking themselves. Not only do we encounter physical suffering, but we encounter mental and emotional suffering as well. We can even experience spiritual suffering. Saint John of the Cross explains a certain kind of spiritual suffering as, what he calls, a dark night of the soul. A dark night of the soul is an experience with extreme spiritual desolation. It is a type of spiritual trial that some say only those who have an extreme maturity in the spiritual life will experience. Take Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and Saint John of the Cross as examples of saints who experienced this intense darkness. Though it may be true that only those who are extremely spiritually mature undergo a true “dark night of the soul,” for the sake of this post, it will be discussed as a term that all may experience to a certain degree. Dark nights can cause a kind of inner, spiritual distress, which can appear to be very similar to depression.

    The dark night of the soul is a very real experience of the perceived absence of God. He hides His face, and what once used to stir one’s heart will no longer have an effect. God’s intentional hiding is meant to purify the one undergoing this painful trial. When experiencing a dark night, one will encounter “purgative contemplation, in which God specifically darkens a person’s will, intellect, and senses in order to test the authenticity of one’s love for God” (Jeannie Ewing “St. John of the Cross & The Dark Night”). This can cause all kinds of doubts, and it can also bring about inner despair and spiritual anguish. According to Saint John of the Cross, the dark night of the soul purifies in two ways – one of an external result, and the other an internal result.
    An external stripping of the physical frills of the faith teaches one to detach from earthly things. “Liturgical practices, sacramental symbols, aids to prayer, books on personal fulfillment, private devotional exercises – all of these become as mere ashes in our hands” (Richard J. Foster, “Find the Heart’s True Home” (21)). This external purgation is also called a “night of the senses.” “While God communicates His light and love, the soul, imperfect as it is, is incapable of receiving them, and experiences them as darkness, pain, dryness, and emptiness” (Brian Kolodiejchuk, Mother Teresa – “Come Be My Light” (22)).
    The inner stripping, also called the “night of the spirit,” is perhaps the more painful of the two purgations. This causes one to experience desolation in their interior life and prayer. They undergo a sense of complete rejection and abandonment by God. This may also cause doubt about personal motivation. One will begin to wonder whether an “act or that thought is inspired by fear, vanity, and arrogance rather than faith, hope, and love” (Foster). Something especially trying about the dark night of the spirit is that even though one seeks only love for and from God, they may be unable to recognize this love (either for God or from God). Prayer becomes extremely difficult, impossible almost, but “by means of this painful purification, the disciple is lead to total detachment from all created things and to a lofty degree of union with Christ, becoming a fit instrument in his hands and serving him purely and disinterestedly” (Kolodiejchuk). A dark night is truly a loss of all pleasure in the things of God.

    Depression, on the other hand, is a mental health disorder characterized by persistently depressed mood or loss of interest in activities, causing significant impairment in daily life. Chemical imbalances in the brain that control mood or stress levels are a major cause of depression. According to the NIH, experiencing some of the following symptoms for at least two weeks can be a sign of depression:

    • Persistent sad, anxious, or “empty” mood
    • Feelings of hopelessness, or pessimism
    • Irritability
    • Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, or helplessness
    • Loss of interest or pleasure in hobbies and activities
    • Decreased energy or fatigue
    • Moving or talking more slowly
    • Feeling restless or having trouble sitting still
    • Difficulty concentrating, remembering, or making decisions
    • Difficulty sleeping, early-morning awakening, or oversleeping
    • Appetite and/or weight changes
    • Thoughts of death or suicide, or suicide attempts
    • Aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems without a clear physical cause and/or that do not ease even with treatment

     A dark night of the soul and depression can become extremely hard to tell apart, as they can both be experienced together. That being said, a dark night and depression are fundamentally very different.  Kevin Culligen wrote a chapter in the book Carmelite Spirituality, in which he states that “in the dark night of spirit, there is painful awareness of one’s own incompleteness and imperfection in relation to God; however, one seldom utters morbid statements of abnormal guilt, self-loathing, worthlessness, and suicidal ideation that accompany serious depressive episodes.” Culligan also mentions how depression affects relationships, while a dark night does not. You sometimes can tell a depressed person by looking at or talking to them. It is much more difficult to detect a person undergoing a dark night of the soul. And while a dark night may cause inner despair and grief, it does not produce physical symptoms, as depression may. Depression, as explained by psychologist Paula Bloom, is “persistently not being able to put the existential realities aside to live and enjoy life, engage those around us or take care of ourselves…” A dark night does not cause this paralyzed state of mind in regards to life. Emily Stimpson states this well – “while depression weighs down both body and soul, eventually rendering those who suffer from it unable to go about the normal business of their life, throughout the dark night, the spirit stays strong, and those suffering through it can perform great works of charity and service.”

    If one has been diagnosed with clinical depression, and the Lord has also decided to hide Himself spiritually from that person, how do you tell the distinction between the two? While a dark night typically enables one to still be energized in their faith, the depressive aspect will remove this from them. It seems that the lines become very blurred when this happens. And although a dark night of the soul typically wouldn’t be the cause of depression, if one is already prone to depression it may become a contributing factor to a depressive state.

    This makes it even more important to have a full understanding of both of these types of sufferings. This can enable a person who may be experiencing both why they are feeling the way that they are – both spiritually and physically. This is a very extreme type of darkness and suffering. Yet God enables His children to bring light even out of the darkest places. As Pope Saint John Paul II states in his book Salvifici Doloris, God the Father in Christ Jesus is “the duality of a single personal subject of redemptive suffering” in which God took human suffering upon Himself, while at the same time enabling the human person to engage in redemptive suffering through the humanity of Jesus. Therefore, we know that God has brought Himself into suffering, meaning that He is with us even in our darkest hours.

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  • Kelsey's Posts

    Agony In The Garden

    May 9, 2019

    In this post, I want to be very real and transparent about my struggle with mental illness. This has been something that has greatly affected my life and is something that I’m still trying to fully understand and cope with as best I can. This is something that is still very difficult for me to talk about, but I really want to share this struggle, because I feel like this is something that is important for others to hear – whether they suffer from mental illness or not. I always have a hard time talking or writing about this because I never feel that I can find words that are sufficient enough to fully describe this mental illness junk. But I don’t want that to stop me from sharing this – so here it goes:

    The first time I started to question my mental health was in eighth grade. I had been struggling with depression and anxiety even before that time, but I never thought of the day-to-day issues that I was experiencing as any type of mental illness. I just thought it was me – that it was my fault for the way that I was – and this mindset only made my symptoms worse. By the time eighth grade came around though, I was crying multiple times every day and spent most of my days alone in my room. I still remember crying myself to sleep every night and then waking up, crying all morning while getting ready for school, and then having to force myself to stop before I walked out the door. I’d get home from school, and immediately go up to my room and basically cry until I fell asleep, and then repeat it all the next day. This was most of my eighth-grade year. It improved slightly with my shift from public school into homeschooling, but I still cried nearly night. I noticed my mental health really take a turn for the worst after high school. My parents noticed and decided to try to get me help. I started trying different medication and went to counseling weekly. After a period of feeling great on some new medication, it slowly lost its effect, and I hit an all-time low about a year after I graduated. I was currently working full time as a teacher assistant, but it soon became impossible to go to work in the condition that I was in. I had to quit my job, which pushed me deeper into my depression. There was a lot of self-hatred that came with being unable to work and function as a normal adult, and I received a lot of condemnation for it from those who were close to me. There was an inner dissonance in my thoughts, with my therapist telling me that I had severe depression, and others telling me that I was just being lazy and that it was my own fault for being so depressed. Throughout all of this, I was experiencing a spiritual confusion as well. Fighting with knowing I can find hope and joy in Christ, but being completely unable to get rid of the overwhelming hopelessness, fear, and worthlessness that I was experiencing. The worst part of all of this was just how incredibly far away from God I felt. I was in utter desolation and darkness. My prayers turned into pleas, which often times just sent me into panic attacks.

    I was eventually able to find a medication that was extremely helpful, and through various activities, such as solo camping, hiking, spiritual reading, and the love and support of my parents, I found myself able to start making little steps into bettering myself. I wound up at the University of Mary to pursue a degree in theology, with a minor in media production. Even though I was doing mostly well with coping with my mental health throughout this past year at Mary, I realized that I had very deep wounds that were caused by my mental illness. I had been burying and avoiding those wounds, but they soon became too painful to ignore. It was just a couple weeks ago that I felt like I finally got the healing that I needed for those wounds. And I’d like to share that experience with you.

    It all started with Lent. I entered into Lent having the expectation of increasing my prayer, along with the daily sacrifices I made. But instead, I found my prayer decrease, until it was almost non existent by the end of Lent. I wound up experiencing a lot of suffering throughout Lent in various different aspects of my life. In my relationships, in my schoolwork, and even in my mental health. Deep wounds in my relationships were being ripped back open, I felt completely overwhelmed with my schoolwork (to the point of questioning my capability and worthiness of the degree I am in), and coping with my depression and anxiety started to become more and more difficult. This is how I entered Holy Week. Completely exhausted, drained, confused, and honestly pretty disheartened. But then came Holy Thursday. I went to Mass that night, and the beauty of the liturgy really struck me. At the end of Mass, we all followed the Eucharist in a procession from out of the main sanctuary into a small chapel down the hall. The priest placed Jesus on the altar, which was surrounded by greenery and flowers that night. I knelt down, and began to cry. I remained kneeling until most people left, and I was alone in the pew. I began to seriously reflect on my Lent. The only thing that came to mind was the word suffering. I then began to think of my semester, and then of my year, and then of the last couple years. My mind began to focus on all of the suffering I experienced, zoning in on the particular times in which depression and anxiety were affecting my life so greatly. I thought about how I felt in those moments, what my heart was feeling, and the desperate pleas and prayers I said to God. I looked up towards the Eucharist, as if to ask for what seemed like the millionth time – “God, why? Why did you abandon me? Why have you put me through all this pain?” I suddenly began to envision Christ at the agony in the garden. My chest experienced a sharp, physical pain as my heart connected with Christ’s in that moment. I heard His pleas to God, saw His body shake, and saw His faced stained with the blood which He was sweating. I was brought back to my most agonizing moments. I remembered how my heart felt, how violently my body would shake, how I couldn’t breathe, and how desperately I would pray… oh how desperately I prayed. How painfully and bitterly I wept. I even thought about how many others feel these same things, and experience this same suffering. I was brought back to the garden – but this time I saw myself there with Him. I united all of those things to Christ’s heart in the garden. I saw what He was about to endure. His passion and death on a cross. I saw how mistreated He would be, not only during His passion, but for years to come, and even still today. Yet He endures it all for love. He was left in darkness, fear, suffering and heartache. He even uttered the words “My God my God, why have you abandoned me?” while dying on the cross.

    I was with Him in the garden, fully feeling this immense heartache… but because I was feeling it as well, I began to console Him. I saw my hands folded tightly together, resting on the same rock right in front of Jesus’ tightly folded hands. We were both shaking violently. Then the Lord opened His hands, and with His palms facing up he extended them towards me. They were still shaking. I unfolded my hands and moved them forward until they were directly above Christ’s, with my palms down. As soon as my hands were above His, Christ’s hands became completely still. He raised His hands until they were nearly touching my still shaking hands. I lowered my hands until they just touched the skin of Christ. The shaking stopped. He then grabbed my hands in His, and He pulled me close to Him until our foreheads were touching. We were both weeping. And then an image that I recently saw came to mind. Jesus was suddenly wearing His crown of thorns, and my forehead was pressing up against it, pushing it further into His head, and piercing mine as well. But He continued to pull me in. I clenched in pain, but Jesus looked up at me with His eyes, surrounded by blood and tears, and He gazed into my eyes. He tightened His hold on my hands and we both just continued to endure the pain, keeping our eyes fixed on each other. I saw God, looking down at His two children like this, Jesus and I. I saw deep, deep sorrow in His eyes, and could see the pain He was experiencing in having to watch two of His beloved suffer and cry to Him. But He knew He could not answer our pleas. He knew what had to be done.

    Sometimes, love is strenuous. It’s painful and causes heartache. But this strenuous love gives the graces needed to love even in extreme suffering, just as Christ did. Sometimes we don’t know the full reason why God allows the suffering that He does. But the truth remains that He can bring beauty and goodness out of anything. I still don’t know the full reason that I have been given this burden, but I can take consolation in knowing that Christ knows exactly what I am feeling and going through. Psalm 22, verse 1 says:

    (1)“My God my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.”

    This verse sounds like a cry of hopelessness and desolation. Yet if you continue to read the rest of the Psalm, the tone changes. It becomes praise to God and His promises. It becomes a passage of hope:

    (24) “For he has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and he has not hidden His face from him, but has heard, when he cried to Him. From you comes my praise in the great congregation; my vows I will perform before those who fear Him. The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek Him shall praise the Lord! May your hearts live forever!”

    I will end with a quote from Benedict XVI, from his book Spe Salvi (which I highly recommend you all read). This title, Spe Salvi, means saved in hope.

    “Moreover, the individual cannot accept another’s suffering unless he personally is able to find meaning in suffering, a path of purification and growth in maturity, a journey of hope. Indeed, to accept the “other” who suffers, means that I take up his suffering in such a way that it becomes mine also. Because it has now become a shared suffering, though, in which another person is present, this suffering is penetrated by the light of love. The Latin word con-solatio, “consolation”, expresses this beautifully. It suggests being with the other in his solitude, so that it ceases to be solitude. Furthermore, the capacity to accept suffering for the sake of goodness, truth and justice is an essential criterion of humanity, because if my own well-being and safety are ultimately more important than truth and justice, then the power of the stronger prevails, then violence and untruth reign supreme.”

    We can unite all of our suffering to Christ’s suffering, and because of that, we can console Him and be consoled by Him. This Easter has turned out to be one of the most joy-filled Easters I’ve ever experienced. And although suffering is not good in and of itself, it yields compassion, love, and intimacy. How great a God we have, who can make even something like suffering beautiful!

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