Peace Be With You - My Contribution to Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depresion

 Available here on Amazon

The following is my chapter from the book, Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression. I have avoided posting it in completion because as with any writer, my hope is that everyone I know will buy the book in it's entirety. My hope still lies in your purchase or download, but in light of the recent suicide of Robin Williams and the vital discussions that have developed, I thought it critical that I share my experience with this debilitating disease. Although I encourage you to purchase the entire book, I hope that by sharing my contribution to this project, it will offer comfort to those who like me, live with and battle depression. I also hope that it will shed some light on what it means to suffer with depression for those on the outside. Not Alone is a collection of honest and raw stories from a community of writers that have all dealt with depression and learned how the light of faith can intertwine with darkness. The stories give a glimpse into the depressed existence, while revealing a rich and loving community of Christians . I hope that you enjoy my contribution and find encouragement. 

Chapter 19

Peace Be with You

By Jake Kampe

The stigma of depression in our culture makes it somewhat of a taboo to discuss. Christians who deal with depression are often ostracized, ignored or accused of having weak faith. I’ve even heard some imply that I cannot truly be a follower of Christ, let alone a pastor since I deal with depression. “You know, Jake, depression is a curse from God,”  has always been my favorite explanation. A very interesting concept, considering the depth of depression that King David suffered, and yet what was he called? Oh yeah, “a man after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14 NIV). I confess that I’ve felt abandoned by God, felt that I had pissed Him off, even felt that He was punishing me for one of my many screw ups in life. But I never felt that God had somehow divinely cursed me with the burden of depression.  

To say that I have lived with depression is an understatement. To say that I’ve seen glimpses of Hell is much more accurate. To say that fear is a companion emotion of depression is not quite the right description. Terror that has brought me to the brink of contemplating suicide is much more illustrative. When I meditate on the landscape that has been my journey through this world, depression has been right there with me, every step of the way. You might say that it’s been an unwelcome traveling companion. As far back as I can remember depression has made itself comfortable with almost every aspect of my life. During major life decisions, crossroads or milestones that have occurred in my life, depression has been there, reminding me that I have to engage in a consultation before proceeding. 

   

When I was very young, I vividly remember periods of unusual depression. I may not have realized the full magnitude of what was taking place in my psyche, but the seeds were being planted, the soil was being cultivated, and roots were beginning to form. The dark cloud of despair was beginning to form itself around my soul and would eventually contribute to molding me into the person I am today. Depression was introducing itself and settling into a comfortable place that would eventually develop into a long stay.  

I live with depression;  I also live with peace. The two go hand in hand, and although they do not live side by side in complete unity, they’ve learned to accept one another. Peace usually dominates the relationship these days, but occasionally depression takes the upper hand. Depression knows peace’s weaknesses and although peace is much stronger, wiser and rational, occasionally depression outsmarts peace and takes temporary control of the household. For a brief period of time, depression wreaks havoc and can quickly destroy a lot of what peace has built. The relationship between the two has not always been this way. Not so long ago, depression was the dominant force in the relationship. In fact, there were long periods of time when peace was forced to leave. Remaining in isolation and forced seclusion, I wondered if peace would ever return. 

  

Being part of a church always provided me with some much needed normality. I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, and the traditions and rituals brought comfort and stability into the life that seemed to be becoming more unstable. Most people were always loving and caring, especially during the traditional greeting of “Peace be with you.”  I’m sure that in many instances it’s extended with a certain amount of ritual and habit, but to me it was warm and comforting, especially from those older than me. “Peace be with you, Jake”  they would say, warmly shaking my hand. “Yes!”, I thought to myself.  “Peace be with me.  Please, God”.

               

As the years passed, I became increasingly isolated and began to reject most attempts of friendship and expressions of love. Throughout junior high and high school, manifestations of depression resulted in bouts of anger and frustration. In my attempts to control the debilitating and helpless effects of depression, anger became my weapon of choice. Anger was more controllable. Anger was my decision to unleash and more controllable. It was mine, and in many ways it kept me warm from the chills of depression. 

             

As I grew older and settled into college life, depression became deeper and more real. I began to see that depression often distorts reality. Not only does it seem to affect the emotions of one’s internal make up, it also emotionally manipulates the external. There is no physical manifestation of the changes that depression initiates. No one else can see what the mind’s eye witnesses. But nonetheless, for the person dealing with the onslaught of severe depression, things just don’t seem the same. Reality becomes twisted, contorted and dreamlike. Nightmarish, unreal and even sometimes hallucinogenic was my reality.  

Toward the end of college, I felt as though my life was in full blown crisis. Regular cocktails of anti-depressants, downers, marijuana and alcohol only numbed the pain that was hiding just below the surface. The temporary alleviation of suffering created a false reality that only isolated me further. “Nothing seems real to me anymore” , I remember telling my therapist at the time.  He immediately said with a calm certainty, “Then Jake, you need to be in a place where things can feel real again.”  What was he saying? Did I need to be in a hospital? Institutionalized? Was I that bad off? I don’t remember much of those days, but I remember that moment very well. It was a sobering realization that my life had spiraled out of control. One question remained: Where was God in the midst of this downward journey into an unknown abyss?  

As I sought healing in my faith, even attending church, spending time in prayer or reading scripture became an uncomfortable experience. I suppose that even my image of God was distorted, but ironically my faith grew deeper. My convictions to know Him deeper and serve Him were growing as well. But like a car stuck in the mud, the more I spun the wheels of effort and faith, the deeper I seemed to sink. My prayers became mundane, spiritless and forced. I would frequently find it hard to focus on God and my anger and frustration soon became directed more toward Him. I began to envision God mockingly holding the key to my healing. Dangling it just beyond my reach, He would grin as I reached out.

If God loved me so much, why was He allowing me to suffer such a hellish existence? If He was real, why was He so apparently unwilling to lift me out of this despair. What possible good could my depression be accomplishing for Him and His Kingdom? Hebrews 13:5 & 6 says “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you”  “Really, God? Then where are you? Are you hiding from me? Playing games?” “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10 NASB). “Then what is this miserable pit in which I’m living?” “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning”? (Psalm 30:5 NLT). “Interesting, because the only morning visitors I ever had were fear and panic, God. Where is this joy you promised I am supposed to have?” “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you?” (John 14:27 NIV).  “Bullshit!”                   

But life continued on and I eventually met my wife who got to experience my ordeals first hand. In reality, I know that there were times when she contemplated leaving me to escape the nightmare that we now both shared. But by God’s grace, she remained by my side, as faithful and understanding as she could be. Ironically, in the long run depression strengthened our relationship, and we grew closer. My two sons came into the world and we began to build the family and life we had longed for. Despite the added stress and responsibility, becoming a father actually helped me deal with depression. Maybe it was because the focus shifted more from me and toward others that I loved. Maybe it was because I was learning and growing spiritually. Maybe it was because God was showing me that my life was actually blessed, rather than cursed. Either way, my children were a turning point for me. A much needed light in a long period of darkness.  

  

I awoke early on Easter Sunday of 2000 with a full blown, unexpected and unprovoked panic attack. In a cold sweat and with heart racing, I got out of bed and went for a walk just before the sun came up. As I walked, I began to pray. As I prayed, my pace increased to a run. As I ran, I began to scream at God in anger. As I screamed, I fell on the grass and broke down. I cried out to God, “Please, God! Stop this! Please! Free me from this hell that I’m in! I can’t do it anymore! What do I do? What have I done wrong? Please help me!”

God’s response? Clearly and almost audible, I heard Him say, “Be obedient, Jake.”  “What?” I thought to myself. Be obedient?”  At this point in my life, I had developed a regular prayer life, was involved in church, read my Bible and jumped through every freaking Christian hoop I could think of! How else could I be more obedient? “Be obedient to WHAT, God?” I cried out. He softly responded, “Just be obedient. You’re not being obedient.”  “I give up, God. You’re not going to help me. You’ve abandoned me. I guess I’m on my own!” I punched the ground and wept as the sun came up. “He is Risen!” I couldn’t have cared less on that Easter Sunday.             

Ironically, I look at this as my moment of healing, but there’s nothing magical that happened in me. No immediate change occurred in my soul, but as the days passed I meditated on what God meant. I realized that obedience had nothing to do with my feelings. It had nothing to do with my actions. And it really had nothing to do with me at all. What God revealed to me was that even though depression had taken over my life, it didn’t get me off the hook. He still wanted me to live as His child, free from darkness and fear. Depression and fear have no place in Kingdom of God, so I needed to show others just the opposite, even though I didn’t feel it. As I began to basically “fake it”, something interesting happened. I began to feel it. As others perceived me as being healed, I essentially was. As I became obedient, God did as well and peace found me again. That was over twelve years ago and although I still struggle with depression, it doesn’t control me. 

As bizarre as it may seem, I’ve found a way to thank God for depression. I see that it’s helped me become a better husband, father and even a better minister. I’m now able to not only sympathize with people, but I can also empathize. I feel the pain that others feel and it becomes real to me; so much so that I find myself wanting to avoid it. “God, please don’t make me go down this path with this person. The pain is too real. It’s too familiar.” But each time He reminds me that I’ll be OK. “Go with them. Feel their pain, Jake. This is not your life anymore, but you have to feel it with them now. It’s essential to your connection with them.”  So, I feel it. It hurts. My heart begins to race and I feel a cold sweat break out over my body. But I feel it with anyone who needs me to join them and I offer peace to be with them. As I feel their pain, I also feel peace rise inside of me, and as we share this common duality of emotions, the Kingdom of God becomes just a little more real for both of us. Peace be with you.        

Living Psalm 88: A re-post from 1/23/12

I'm living Psalm 88 today.  No other explanation could paint a clearer picture of the depths of depression that I find myself in. Read Psalm 88. Psalm 88 is a Psalm of lament. It's a picture of despair that seems to have no end or resolution. At the time of his writing, the Psalmist knows nothing but sorrow and is consumed by overwhelming grief. It's the only Psalm that apparently does not end with some kind of resolution between God and man. It ends as it starts, with the Psalmist engulfed in utter desperation and lacking of any hope. No light bulb goes on. No rainbow springs up in the distance to lift his spirits just a bit. No ray of light to illuminate the darkness. Silence. He turns to God in his pain, in hopes of an answer for the dark state that he find himself in. Silence. God doesn't reveal a nugget of theological truth that causes him to break out in songs of praise and thanksgiving. There is no reason for his pain. No explanation for the silence from God. No answer for the perpetual anguish that the he finds himself in. No hope. This is what depression feels like. 

Depression is very heavy on me today. I live with depression. Not as much as I did many years ago, but I still struggle with depression from time to time. That time is now. It always comes back with a vengeance. Depression sucks. I have no inspiration to write today and motivation is non-existent. I'm writing this in the hopes of you extending me grace. My mind is consumed with a fog that is going to prevent clarity and attention to grammar. That is one of the side effects of depression. The fog consumes, thick with confusion. I'm currently unable to keep a coherent thought within my mind. It would be a nightmare to have a cup of coffee right now. So please forgive me if this is not a literary masterpiece. My minds races with dozens of thoughts that are overwhelming me, and yet I can't focus any single topic. 

It seems that a lot more people have been seeking to know what depression is all about these days More people who don't deal with depression are seeming to be asking more questions and trying to understand how this disease effects others. Maybe more people are dealing with depression in those close to them. Maybe it's just becoming more common. Maybe the stigma is waning a bit and the discussions are opening up. Recently someone asked me to describe what depression is like. What better time to describe the pit than when you find yourself at the very bottom of it, right? I usually don't share this side of me. Usually I just isolate myself. You won't hear from me for a while. My blog will not be updated and I'll draw inward. But here it is. Full color. High def. No editing.       

I didn't sleep well lst night. Most of the night was filled with nightmares and dark dreams I woke up this mourning at the end of a particularly eerie dream. You know the kind that leaves you feeling icky the next day? Nothing really specific about the dream seems to reveal anything to me. The setting was just dark, funky and gloomy. That feeling seemed to have attached itself to me when I awoke. It's been stuck on me, clouding everything I've attempted to do today. Yeah, I've put on a smiley face and tried to "fake it until I can make it", (I hate that expression. No doubt invented by some chipper motivational soul who means well, has no comprehension of what it's like to experience depression for even one day). Was it the same one who coined the phrase "Too blessed to be depressed"?  That makes me nauseous.

Depression is unmoving. It just sits there, like oil stuck to the sides of and old steel drum. Water just beads off of it. I could scrape it out, but it would just make a bigger mess, and I've convinced myself to just deal with it. As always. You've mourned the death of someone close to you, right? Remember that feeling? That's depression. No, I'm not being melodramatic or exaggerating. That's what it feels like, but with no explanation to it's cause. Mourning for no one. Nothing. Just mourning.         

Anxiety and panic usually begin to set in when I'm in the depths of depression. I feel the urge to run. I feel the urge to drive somewhere, but have no destination. It's like running or driving down a tunnel that has no end in sight. You can't see anything from the right or left and all you can hear is a deep droning sound. My ears are ringing, even as I type this and my heart is racing just a bit more. All I can think about is what others think of me. How apparently incapable I am to function at full capacity. I beat myself up, and any previous victories that I've had quickly become failures in my mind. I discredit anything I've accomplished and assume that I've just fooled myself through my entire life up to this point, as well as everyone else. I'm not a writer. I'm not a minister. I'm not a good husband and I've failed as a father. I know. In reality, none of this is true. But in the midst of depression, it's extremely difficult to see anything else. Reality is twisted and distorted. Warped. You wonder who this person is as you gaze in the mirror. I wonder who this is typing these words.

Another companion emotion of depression is anger. Anger comes in waves and in many ways more welcome than depression. Anger feels more controllable and more powerful. Depression just makes you feel weak and out of control. I often get angry with God, and today is no different. I feel like smashing my fists through a wall, in hopes that He'll see how much I hurt. As if God needs a physical demonstration. I walked this morning, feeling isolated and alone. Almost an hour I walked with my dog Dexter. He pants. I pray. I talk out loud and sometimes raise my voice at God. People must think I'm mentally ill, and maybe I am. I just wish that one of them would stop me an ask what's wrong. Do you ever just long for someone to put their hand on your shoulder and say, "It's OK."? Never underestimate the power of the human touch, especially when you feel nothing. I feel cold and completely alone. The clicks of Dexter's nails on the concrete remind me of a clock. The seconds ticking by, reminding me that times stands still while in the depths of depression.   

Recently, I told God that I hated Him. Not because of who He is, or what He's done in my life, but because of what He seems to have not done. I assume that God can handle me saying that. Teenagers often tell their parents that they hate them, right? They come back and apologize and mom and dad know they don't mean it. I told God that I didn't mean it. He knows. But I felt it. I wanted Him to hurt like I'm hurting. Maybe I feel hatred toward God because I feel hatred toward myself. What is self-love? How are you supposed to love yourself when all you want to do is flee from the person you've become? It's a paradox.   

This morning I read the words of Psalm 88. I'm living Psalm 88.But in the midst of depression, I hold onto faith. Faith in a God that has pulled me out of deeper pits. Although I feel life ebbing away, I know that it will be restored just as quickly as it's slipped away from me. I take solace in knowing that things have been much worse and I survived. Like the Psalmist, I'll continue to call on the Lord "every day" and keep bringing my petitions before Him. I'll shake my fists at my Maker and raise my voice to Him. But I trust Him. I know that joy will come again, because I've tasted it before. I've reveled in it. Possibly, that's why the depths of depression hit me so hard. When you've tasted the goodness of God, and been taken to higher planes of living, the distance back down is even further. We fall, but rise again. I will. I always do.