Tag Archives: depression

Nov29

Fall from Grace

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When I was 18, I went off to college. I picked a college that was out of state, one that seemed the most liberal of the choices presented to me. Here was a school where women were allowed to wear jeans!!! Granted, they couldn’t be worn to class, convocation, or other school functions, but in your free time- jeans!!!

So maybe that was a shallow and stupid way to pick a school, but I’ve heard worse (my husband picked his college based on its proximity to his favorite football team!).

My hope for college was that I would be surrounded by some very zealous Christian peers with whom I would immediately bond and who would also lead me to discover what hole in my spiritual self prevented the “personal relationship with Jesus Christ” that I had struggled to find for years.

I also hoped to over-achieve academically as I’ve always put a huge amount of pressure on myself to perform grade-wise. If I can’t be the prettiest, I can at least strive to be the smartest!

So off I went. After a tearful, and admittedly fearful goodbye, I was terrified at being left alone in a new state, surrounded by people I didn’t know.

It was an immediate disillusionment.

I had intended to follow all the rules. My new roommates had other ideas. They had all been raised much more liberally than I- so right off the bat I was the weird one, once again. There were four of us in the room and I had nothing in common with any of them. Two of my three roommates were from the same state as me- I had been hoping for a broader range of diversity. Disappointment.

I got my class schedule and was excited to start classes- at least there was something at which I could excel. I noticed that one of my classes required me to attend church services every Sunday. You would have an usher at the church sign your attendance card. The service was televised nationally and the pastor would remark about how wonderful it was to have all these young people in attendance. “That’s because we have to be here for class credit,” I thought bitterly. Disillusionment.

Every Wednesday, convocation was held. A sermon, hymns, church. They would even take an offering. “We’re already paying to be here and they’re taking an offering?? Seriously???” Disgust.

My R.A. took me out on the town one evening, just driving around so I could see what the city looked like. We drove by the school president’s/the affiliated church’s pastor’s home. Plantation style, guard dogs, security men, barbed wire atop a tall wrought-iron fence, four brand-new vehicles in the parking area. Outrage.

As part of my tuition-assist program, I worked in the cafeteria. It was awful. On Fridays I worked the ice cream bar, where I had to scoop ice cream for greedy, impatient, bratty Christian kids. On Saturdays I worked in the dish room and I couldn’t believe how much food was thrown away. My supervisor, who was also my R.A., told me that we threw enough food out in a day to feed the homeless of the city for a week. Contempt.

The kids I ended up hanging out with were in the same boat. We all had different backgrounds, but we were all disgusted by the school. Naturally, we got into trouble.

One afternoon, I was called into the Dean of Women’s office. There I was accused of being part of a Colombian drug ring. Seriously- I couldn’t make this up if I tried. I was told that the FBI was monitoring my actions. Someone, one of my not-so-friendly roommates, had reported that they had overheard me and the only roommate I got along with discussing how one evening we had smoked pot. The HORROR!!!! Somehow, my one and only experience with drugs had evolved into participation in a drug-smuggling ring! It was insanity. I had no response. What can you say when someone accuses of something that is not only ludicrous, but also completely foreign to your brain???

Despite my alleged drug-dealing, I was put on probation. A week later and I was called back into the office. This time I was accused of attempting to plant a car bomb! I am not shitting you. A car bomb. As I was walking, a ring had fallen off and I had been searching in the grass to find it- which I did. I don’t know how this was interpreted as criminal behavior, yet there I was- me who couldn’t have hot-wired a car if my life depended on it, me who didn’t even know how to drive(!)- being accused of attempting to plant a car bomb. Insanity!

I was asked to leave the school. All of my friends were also brought in under ridiculous charges and asked to leave as well. Later I found out that there had been such a surge in freshman enrollment that the class was getting out of control. I think they expelled eleven of us in total, presumably to set an example.

My parents told me I couldn’t come home unless I admitted myself for psychiatric evaluation. Ha, no. I knew there was nothing wrong with me. I was 18, out of the house for the first time, intoxicated with even the small amount of freedom the school gave us!

I didn’t go home. I went with an expelled friend to Florida for a month. We stayed with her grandmother, who was awful. Eventually I had no choice but to come home.

I had dreaded coming home, but it was worse than I had imagined. I was a pariah. My parent’s disappointment manifested in my every interaction with them. I wasn’t supposed to spend too much time with my siblings so my rebellion wouldn’t rub off on them. Every problem within the family was blamed on me, on my behavior, on the stress I had caused, on the blow to reputation that was my fault.

I attempted suicide.

Recovered, moved out, attempted suicide again.

I was so disillusioned with everything. I felt abandoned by god, abandoned by my family, totally isolated. Yet there was still this drive to fix things, to make things right, to live up to the pastor’s daughter role that I could never achieve.

Sometimes I wonder if being brought up, as a Christian, as a pastor’s daughter, caused the depression and anxiety I have suffered with since forever.

Does internalizing the belief that you are a perpetual sinner that needs god become a standard to which one can never live up to? Does feeling the pressure to be a role model to your peers, and everyone else for that matter, cause permanent anxiety? Does the fear of pissing off god cause hopelessness when you realize you’re a human who makes mistakes? Does the threat of hell, eternal damnation and torture cause despair when you just can’t live up to what’s expected of you- when you can’t achieve that special relationship with Jesus that everyone else seems to enjoy?

In my case, yes.

My experience at a Christian college turned me off to organized religion forever. It wasn’t long before the cracks in my immersion in Christianity caused the whole belief system to come crashing down. It was a spectacular crash. Arguments with my parents about church attendance, not being allowed to see my siblings because I was a “bad influence,” interference in my relationships, I felt alone, abandoned, participation in religion made me feel like a fraud.

Sometimes I still feel those Christian influences rising up in my mind. A hymn starts playing in my head, a Bible verse pops up during an unrelated conversation. Surrounded by others, I often get a jolt of anxiety that this party, group, meeting- none of this is Christian, none of this is godly! It’s been so impressed in my mind about what are moral, Christian values, and what are not, that attending parties can often make me feel momentarily panicked- oh my god- I’m surrounded by alcohol, rock music, unmarried couples practicing PDA, “bad” words, all of the things I’ve always been told to stay away from. I often laugh to myself that these feelings still come up years after my participation in religion has ended, years after my belief in god has faded. They’re still there, and I suppose they’ll always be there. Because if there’s anything that Christianity does- it makes you feel like you’re never good enough to merit god’s gift. It makes you feel perpetually unworthy of Jesus’ blood. It makes you ask questions you’re not supposed to and search for answers in ungodly places. It makes you feel human, and that’s not good enough.

Feb20

Jesus is my anti-depressant!

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I’ve actually heard people say this, and not ironically or sarcastically. A lot of fundamental Christians do not believe that mental illness is actually an illness. Rather, depression, anxiety, and every other mental affliction are manifestations of a lack of faith or belief and/or caused by demons.

There’s no going to counseling conducted by a licensed therapist or psychologist. A person might receive counseling from their pastor who will look for root causes in their behavior or past sins that might be causing the present problem.

Basically, if you’re depressed or anxious, you’re not trusting enough in God.

Maybe you did something bad when you were a child, stole a candy bar or something, and never properly asked forgiveness from god and now that past sin has come back to haunt you until you make it right with god.

Not trusting enough in god also leaves a person susceptible to demonic attacks which can lead to all sorts of mental issues.

A fundamentalist Christian can’t be diagnosed with mental problems- they have to trust in god to make them well, or, my favorite- “get their hearts right with god.” You can’t just trust a doctor, silly. Trusting a doctor means you’re trusting science. Next thing you know, you’ll be believing in evolution- and we all know what happens after that! Yep, it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump from becoming a full-blown homosexual who practices Satanism.

So because of this attitude, many people with treatable mental illnesses go untreated. There was once a man in our church who was under attack from demons. He insisted his family all sleep in his bed and call him Mr. Montana. Obviously this behavior was the result of a demonic attack and not some sort of mental illness.

Fundamental Christianity underscores the belief that weakness is the cause of mental illness. Many people refuse to take psych meds because they feel they should have control of their emotions and behavior- and these are just your average, every-day person without the Christian factor. Add in the belief that you’re also doing something wrong, not believing and trusting in god enough and a person suffering from depression will never seek treatment. There’s no way that you might have a chemical imbalance or a genetic predisposition to a mental illness. We were made in god’s image and is god every depressed?? Maybe not- but he sure seems to have some sort of personality disorder in the Old Testament.

The same also applies to addictions. A person needs to recognize that demons are attacking them and that god is the only way to quit shooting up heroin. God’s the only thing that can save an alcoholic or drug abuser. Not meds or rehab. I assume this is why we had people detoxing on our couch when I was a kid.

So I wonder….if fundamental Christians had a different attitude regarding mental illness, would my dad still be alive today? Today is the twelfth anniversary of his suicide. He had been receiving some counseling- but quit going. He had been taking some psych meds, but also drinking heavily. Maybe it was all too little, too late.

Ironically, my dad’s faith in god is what caused me to lose mine. I had slowly been losing belief in anything I had every learned about god and Christianity. After my dad’s suicide, I threw just about all of it into my mental garbage can. If God was supposedly so loving yet could still allow a person to commit suicide- especially someone who had been a pastor for decades- then what was the point? I heard all sorts of things like, “god needed to bring him home,” “he didn’t mean to kill himself,” and my one of my favorites “well…he’s probably in hell- that’s what happens when you commit suicide.” The absolute best was “god only gives us what we can handle.” Oh really??? How does that apply in this situation at all? God obviously gave him more than he could handle, although he probably just didn’t have enough faith.

It’s too bad he couldn’t see that his problems weren’t spiritually based. It’s too bad he didn’t get help before his behavior got out of hand. It’s too bad Jesus was his anti-depressant.

 

 

Jan18

My Homeschooling Experience

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I hate when people ask me where I went to school or what school I graduated from. As soon as I say I was homeschooled most people look at me as though they’re expecting me to sprout another head. I usually feel like I have to defend homeschooling because it feels like an attack on my intelligence.

I had been homeschooled for 4th grade, and the school year passed uneventfully. My parents were using some Christian homeschooling curriculum but I can’t remember what exactly it was. But it was fine. I was given an aptitude test before the school year began and then the curriculum was based on my scores.

In 5th and 6th grades, I attended a Christian school. But it closed at the end of 6th grade. We then went to another Christian school which closed partway through the first term of 7th grade. So I had to attend public school, and I found that prospect terrifying for a few reasons.

1. I had never before attended public school.

2. I had always been taught that public schools were places where it was taught that it was okay to be sinful.

3. Changing classes and teachers? Oy.

4. Public school students- they probably all believed in evolution, had sex, smoked, drank, and every other godless activity out there.

I had good reason to be scared. Public school did NOT go well for me.

The first thing that ensured I would never fit in was that I was not allowed to assimilate. The uniforms I had worn to private school now had to be worn to public school and I stuck out like a sore thumb. In our home, girls were not allowed to wear pants…let alone jeans. I was allowed to wear jogging pants for gym, but that was it. Oh it was awful.

The second incident that marked me even further as an outcast happened in history class. Our teacher was going over world history. At some point he got to the history of the Jewish people. He said that the word Hebrew had come from the Arabic word Abiru which means dirty- the first Jews were nomads and therefore a dirty (literally) people. NO! The area we lived in at the time was notoriously anti-Semitic. Let’s give the next generation some good reason to think that Jews are sub-human. I had to say something, and I did. I argued that point with the teacher, during class, which was a huge mistake on my part- as far as ever being accepted goes. I don’t regret it because I still think that’s an awful thing to be teaching. The end result was that now everyone in my class…and by the end of the day- the whole school (teachers included), knew I was Jewish. Awesome. Now I couldn’t even go to my locker without dealing with some form of harassment- verbal and, at times, physical attacks (which the teachers conveniently ignored).

Now math has never been my strong suit. At this school I was destined for failure. The math teacher separated the boys and the girls and taught exclusively to the boys. If a girl tried to ask a question she would be told that “Girls are too dumb to learn math.” That seriously happened, and this wasn’t the 1950s, this was 1989. Given that the teacher avoided teaching the girls’ side of the room, you might think that he gave us a break on our grades. Nope. When my dad later confronted the teacher, the teacher said it wasn’t his fault I was stupid. Nice.

My first, and only report card from public school had nothing higher than a C….something (besides the Bible-failing incident of 2nd grade) which had never happened before.

So what happened? 

I quit going to school.

I was tired of the abuse, tired of not knowing what was going on, really just so tired of being picked on…all of the time.

My sister was experiencing similar trouble in 3rd grade. Her teacher was constantly picking on her and being downright abusive. So our parents decided to homeschool us all. (There were three of us that were school-age.)

At first the school district put up a fight. The truancy officer came to our door multiple times. Lawyers were called. The school district finally had to back down. To add insult to injury, the school district was notified that they also had to provide our school books. Their revenge was to send the oldest, most damaged books they could find.

I had envisioned the experience of 4th grade- structure, parental participation. Not this time around. Our dad was working full-time, besides being a pastor. Our mom was going through some sort of depression that kept her in her bedroom for most of the day. 

Mom would wake us up about 7 am. Then we would have to sit and read selected Bible verses/chapters/stories while she went back to bed. We usually went back to sleep right where we were sitting. I’m a light sleeper, so I could hear if she got back up to make sure we were reading the Bible. After Bible reading/nap time, we could have breakfast and then we were supposed to go do our actual schoolwork.

Now there are some things that are just about impossible to teach yourself: math, foreign languages, some scientific theories. But this is what I had to do. I had to try to figure out how to learn these things on my own. If you already struggle with math- especially algebra, geometry may as well come from another planet.

I would ask my parents for help with math and I would always receive the same reply, “I went to vo-tech and took business math- I can’t help you with that.” Great…thanks. Now what am I supposed to do?! I mucked though somehow…I know I didn’t learn it, I still can’t understand higher math (I think mostly because I think it’s useless- I never plan on building a house or sending a rocket to the moon). 

Science was one subject that our parents were proactive when it came to our education. Proactive in the sense that we must never be exposed to the ungodly theory of evolution. We were taught that the theory of evolution says that man came from monkeys- that’s it, nothing about genetic mutation or favorable traits. Well on face value who could believe that? For a “field trip” we went to a college that was sponsoring a debate between a creationist and an evolutionist. He faced questions like “How come no babies are born as monkeys?” I wonder how he didn’t just lose patience when faced with the passionate ignorance of the audience.

I tried to teach myself Spanish on my own. No help from my parents there either. The “vo-tech” excuse was trotted out again. 

On top of the homeschool frustration, our family life was deteriorating at an ever-increasing pace. My parents would often argue about when the Rapture was going to take place. Not peaceful debates, mind you. But screaming, breaking dishes arguments about whether the saved would be raptured before, during, or after the tribulation. 

On top of that, there was my baby sister to look after. Mom was in her room all the time. Maybe taking care of my youngest sister was a crash course in home economics. I would try to keep the other two kids on schedule with their schoolwork and help them when I could, which of course made them resentful of me because who did I think I was?! 

The house had to be kept clean. Mom would emerge from her room at some point in the afternoon, conveniently not too long before our dad was coming home from work, to yell at us about the house being a mess- which my dad would walk in on, which would get him to yelling at us as well. As the oldest, I usually took the brunt of the blame since I was supposed to be in charge of the other kids. Then it was time to make supper, clean up after supper, do more schoolwork, and maybe play in the backyard (which counted as phys. ed.). 

It was awful and I hated life. I crammed as much school work as possible into the next couple of years and was approved to graduate two years early. Yay! I wanted out so bad. Constant stress, pressure, walking on eggshells, trying to manage a house, and also take care of three other kids, and maintaining the pastor’s daughter image was just too much. If I’d known of a place to go, I surely would have run away. Instead I took to cutting and eating disorders which at least provided some, albeit twisted, outlet for the pressure to be “practically perfect in every way.” I can’t imagine that no one ever noticed, but no one ever did anything about it. To take me to counselling would have cast a bad light on the perfect pastor’s family image. 

I’m not trying to throw my parents under the bus. I believe that they initially had good intentions. But when it came to acting on those intentions…well, it just never happened. Once in a great while there might be a trip to the library or a “field trip” to a zoo or something, but that happened so infrequently as to be aberrations rather than the norm.

I graduated a few weeks after I turned 16. I probably shouldn’t have. I received a diploma that I later found out was useless, and would be for another couple of years. The homeschooling organization that had issued the diploma had yet to be accredited by the state. I had applied to nursing school, passed all the prerequisite testing but was then told that I’d need to get my GED. I didn’t. I know what a GED looks like, it doesn’t take anything into account. It just looks like you quit school and then thought better of it.

At my graduation party, attended by church people only, my mom told me to get a job or get out. Fine I’ll get out. “You can’t, you’re still under 18 and my responsibility.” So I got a job as a nurse’s aide and turned over just about every cent I made to my parents.

When I was 18, I started looking at colleges, only Christian ones of course. I picked one that was out-of-state. Anything to get away. That, of course, went badly as well. But that’s a story for another day.

Did homeschooling prepare me for the real world? Hmmm….not really. It’s a good thing that I never planned on being a scientist or an architect- I would’ve been in real trouble regarding my math skills.

Was my homeschooling a positive experience? No. I think that if our parents would’ve been more involved it may have been a different story maybe. The only time there was definite parental involvement was when it came to religious education which really isn’t much help once you start working or move on to higher education.

If I had children would I homeschool them? Not unless there was some really important medical issue or something along those lines. 

What were the best aspects of being homeschooled? I could work at my own pace- so some things, like English and History I could finish really early on in the school year and then I’d have more time to tackle the hard subjects.

What were the worst aspects of being homeschooled? No help or guidance. No interaction with other people. Being isolated when I was a teenager has really made it difficult to interact with others now. The pressure really caused some depression and anxiety issues.

Now I know some people have had wonderful homeschooling experiences. They had parents who were involved and really took on the role of being a teacher.

I also know of some who had far worse experiences than I did. We were spanked and punished, but we were never beaten senseless or forced to spend the night outdoors.

I guess my experience is somewhere in the middle, but closer to the negative side. I suppose one could say that neglecting our education was a form of abuse…I wouldn’t know how to argue against that.

What I do know is that it was a mistake. If we had been allowed to assimilate, things might have been different. If we hadn’t been taught to believe that public school was a horrible, godless, sinful place- things might have been different. If our parents had been more involved, things might have been different. If we had been part of a bigger homeschooling organization, or there were more homeschoolers in our area that we could have interacted with, things might have been different. I don’t know.

Every experience teaches us some sort of lesson. In some cases, the lesson is how to do it. In my homeschooling experience, the lesson was how not to do it.