Let's Talk Mental Health.

So, I had a nervous breakdown.

No, really.

I woke up on a Monday morning and felt like something in me snapped in half.

I packed a backpack with the following:

• 2 library books

• Hand and foot cream

• A pair of pajama shorts + a sleep shirt

• Socks (1 pair!)

• Two extra shirts

• A sweatshirt

• My passport

I had it in my head that I was leaving and not going to come back. (Notice how I was prepared to bring library books into the great unknown, but no underwear. See? BREAKDOWN.)

I had the sense to share with my husband what I was planning before I made it to the international airport, and he insisted on meeting me at my therapist's office for an emergency session. (Because every person, but particularly those in ministry, should have a therapist, and you will never convince me otherwise!)

Once there, I broke down in tears and told them that it felt like I was carrying a great, black bird around on my shoulders. The bird would whisper lies and fears and doubts into my ears 24/7, and its talons were digging into my shoulders. Its weight was breaking me down, and I didn't know what it was or how to deal with it anymore -- all I knew was that I was totally and completely exhausted from carrying it.

I'm a youth pastor, though. Which means I'm a professional-ministry-person.

We aren't supposed to have breakdowns.

We aren't supposed to struggle with black-winged things that haunt us, telling us we aren't good enough, convincing us that everything will fail and that darkness is permanent.

We aren't supposed to run when things get tough.

We are supposed to be the helpers, the brave ones, the ones with the answers.

And yet...

Church, what are we doing to help those who struggle with mental health issues? Are we cultivating safe spaces for those with anxiety, depression, bi-polar, BPD, OCD, etc. to be their authentic, true selves in the midst of their struggles? Or are we telling them that if they just prayed enough, or said the right things, then they'd be delivered from their afflictions? That because they wrestle with these things, they are somehow less-than or experiencing lack in their lives?

Are we uncomfortable when someone shows up broken?

Why are we willing to feed the hungry, but ignore the mentally and emotionally famished?

These are questions I asked myself while I spent a week in Biloxi with my parents, recovering from my own personal reckoning that I was in fact not OK. Because I wasn't OK. I really wasn't -- and it took a great deal of courage to confess that not just to others, but also to myself.

What I was carrying wasn't who I was, even if it wanted to convince me of that. And I needed time away to gain some clarity, peace, and hope.

I wish I knew what to say on how we best could encourage and show up for those who are hurting or struggling but the truth is, all I know for sure is that holding space for our brothers and sisters by affirming that they aren't alone is pretty much the only thing we can do. Sometimes, showing up just looks like seeing without offering judgment, or loving with no holds barred. Sometimes, it means listening not to give advice or to correct, but simply just to affirm that it's OK to not be OK.

Life is hard because life is hard. Those of us who deal with the Mental-Illness Birds of Prey don't struggle because we are being punished or because we deserve the struggle -- we struggle because this is a broken world, and we are living in the flow of sin and hurt. Yet we often convince ourselves otherwise, sure that we are failures or shame-ridden galoots not worthy of anything good or holy.

The church talks a lot about meeting physical needs, but I need us to start being cool with addressing mental and emotional needs, too. Because here's the thing: even those of us who are "in charge" are facing the same demons you are. Even though we are supposed to be the ones who have it all together, have the answers, and solve the problems, we wrestle with inadequacy, depression, the blues, and shame too. We see you.

We are you.

The stigma that surrounds mental health is a poison to our culture, but nowhere is it more insidious than in our churches. Evil uses shame to convince us that we alone struggle, that nobody could understand our fight, that we are a lost cause, and this creates isolation. If Evil can get you isolated and away from community, then it can get you away from the Well of Life and that is where you actually drown.

So in Jesus's name, I renounce that. I am claiming here and now that the church will rise up in unity against the shame of mental-illness and declare with open hearts and open palms that vulnerability and truth will always, always, ALWAYS win out over judgment, fear, and denial. These birds of prey are a part of our story, but they are not our identity. They are NOT our stories -- they are footnotes.

Let's be Not-OK together, okay? Let's be real and honest about the darkness we stare down. Because we are all stumbling forward along this path, anyway. We may as well stumble together.

Lyrics to the song above:

[Verse] You met me in the middle of my mess You said, "I love you" You said, "I love you" You met me in the middle of my mess You said, "I love you" You said, "I love you, yeah" [Chorus] And there's wave after wave, wave after wave Mercy and grace crash over me Wave after wave, wave after wave Mercy and grace crash over me Wave after wave, wave after wave Mercy and grace crash over me Wave after wave (wave after wave), wave after wave (wave after wave) Mercy and grace crash over me [Verse] You met me in the middle of my mess You said, "I love you" You said, "I love you, yeah" You met me in the middle of my mess (yeah) You said, "I love you" You said, "I love you, yeah"

[Outro] Thank You, Father Thank You, Father