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Recovery in Progress
by Jan Lutz
As a child I often felt that there was a heavy gray cloud over my head. No matter how
fast I ran, it followed me. When I tried to hide, it hovered over me. I never told
anyone else about the cloud then because I knew it wasn’t visible. It felt like dense
gloom pressing down on me.
To my teachers and classmates in elementary and secondary school I appeared well
adjusted. My grades were excellent and I completed college without any major depressive
episodes. Following graduation, I began teaching kindergarten. After five years in
the classroom, I married and became a full-time homemaker.
During my pregnancies I experienced the usual mood swings which hormone changes cause. I
was hospitalized once for situational depression. After a short time on medication and a
few therapy sessions, I resumed my "normal" life.
In my 40’s I dealt with childhood abuse issues and experienced a great deal of post-traumatic
stress. My family doctor felt the need to hospitalize me at one point—my first experience
in a mental health ward. I was put on an anti-depressant and advised to see a mental
health professional. I did that until I felt better, and then discontinued medication and
therapy.
During my hospitalization, I needed to write down the name(s) of anyone I did not want to visit
me. I chose my pastors because I thought that depression was something Christians were
not supposed to have. My reasoning went like this: If I’d been a "better"
Christian, I wouldn’t have ended up in a mental health ward. It wasn’t until years later
when I read a book entitled "Why Do Christians Break Down?" by William A. Miller that
I was able to understand that mental illness and faith are not mutually exclusive. I’ve
since encountered members of the clergy who themselves struggle with mental illness.
During the next ten years I was hospitalized numerous times, saw mental health professionals on
a regular basis, and took medications as prescribed. Even doing everything recommended
did not always produce desired results. I had one period of three years in which I was
never hospitalized, followed by three hospitalizations in a single year. When I was
informed that depression is a mental illness, I was convinced that it meant that my
intelligence was affected. It took intelligence tests to prove to me that my illness was
a mood disorder caused by a chemical imbalance in my brain and not a thought disorder.
After our children went to school, I was blessed to resume teaching kindergarten in a Christian
school. In order to update my teaching license, I had to complete six university credits
before the next school year and obtain my religious certification. Somehow I got through
that first year without any mental health crises. Anticipating that my second year would
be easier, I again signed a contract. Because of my busy schedule, I had stopped therapy
sessions and obtained my medication prescriptions from my family doctor. When I was
hospitalized the next year, I assumed that I would lose my teaching position if it became known
that I suffered from depression. My psychiatrist permitted me to teach during the day and
spend nights in the mental health ward. After a few days I had to be hospitalized
full-time. When I told my principal, she understood as she had a close relative who had a
similar diagnosis. Though I signed my contract for my fifth year, I was hospitalized long
enough to deplete my sick days. When medical bills which insurance didn’t cover exceeded
my income, I relinquished my position.
I wish I could say that not having the stress of a full-time job resulted in no more
hospitalizations—not so. However, I’m no longer ashamed of doing whatever it takes to
maintain my health and function to the best of my ability. My achievements include
teaching a peer education class for persons with a diagnosis of mental illness and becoming
certified to train others to teach that class. This past year I was interviewed by local
newspaper reporters in regard to several aspects of mental illness and how I cope with
depression and seasonal affective depressive disorder. Following publication, people who
wanted to share their experiences with mental illness either as a consumer of mental health
services or a family member of someone who has been diagnosed contacted me.
One person who profoundly affected my recovery is from my faith community. I had never
shared my story with him, but unbeknownst to me, my husband had. When my husband
disclosed this information to me, I said in disbelief: "But he treated me like a real
person." If he could, why not the rest of the world, especially people of
faith? This experience has given me the courage to be more authentic in my faith life and
in dealing with those who seek to become better informed about mental health/illness
issues. I no longer feel that mental illness reflects on my faith or lack of faith.
I find comfort in the Scriptures, especially in those Psalms of David, which were written when
he was depressed. Over the years I’ve experienced much faith sharing in mental health
wards, support groups, etc. An entire session in our peer education class is devoted to
spirituality. Certainly in faith community’s people should be welcomed and encouraged—not
labeled, ostracized, or stigmatized. Mental illnesses affect people of all faiths, social
standing, and financial position, but are not contagious.
My advice to anyone struggling with mental illness is to seek treatment, learn to cherish your
life as a gift, and live life to the fullest within your limitations.
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