Over 20 years ago, when I experienced my first battle with depression, I clearly remember my physician tried to help remove the stigma from my diagnosis. He said, “you would be amazed how many of you I see with the same diagnosis?

“Christians?” I replied.

“Yes, but I specifically meant pastors. Christians tend to keep believing it is a faith issue and so they try harder to be better. Pastors add another layer by believing they can fix themselves and thinking such a diagnosis makes them weak.”

I could hear my spirit say, “Yes, and yes.” It was a big hurdle to overcome, but with help I came through. I quickly learned that I was not the only one with those thoughts about my situation. There were plenty of people (“loving Christians”) who were offended their pastor had depression. They made sure to point out it was my fault, that I didn’t have enough faith, and it was a bad look for the church. It wasn’t the support I was looking for, or needed.

When the symptoms subsided, I made a commitment to God that I would not remain silent because too many were already doing that, too many negative attempts to support existed, along with wrong understandings. These things made it hard for many to seek the help they needed. So, when things erupted this time, I stuck to my promise. Many people were supportive, but others were still sharing the same concerns of two decades earlier.

To be clear, depression is not just feeling down or sad. Those are only symptoms. Many people say they are depressed, but they do not mean clinical depression. The same is true for anxiety. When dealing with clinical diagnoses, we are talking about health issues. This isn’t about choice or faith, like many other health concerns, they are physical problems that need correction, assisted by therapy to develop healthy coping mechanisms.

People still do not understand this. When I reached out for support, there were people who were angry about my method and about me being public about it. This was not the response I would have received if I announced I was dealing with blood pressure or diabetes. Why? Because this was “mental illness” and it was a scary thing. What would people say or think. What would people do if someone wanted information (other than ask me directly)?

I don’t want this to seem like an attack, though some may read it that way. The takeaway, from my perspective, is that little has changed in perception. I’ve still been told I just need more faith and the Bible says we are not to worry. Honestly, that still stings. I want to define it as misguided compassion, but when you’ve addressed it publicly and repeatedly, it becomes more clear that it is a toxic response.

Please understand, many people have stood with me all along. I’ve had colleagues who reached out with compassion and offered support. Friends did the same. One of my colleagues lovingly took it upon herself to do health checks, to listen and offer as little advice as possible. She simply held space for me to be me, to be safe, and to be seen. God did amazing things through her.

Depression and anxiety are challenging battles. Grace and love make an amazing difference. I cannot express the emotional pain that comes with feeling isolated, alone, and unseen every day, for months. I could not control the feeling, but I learned to function with it. When someone reached out, not to fix things, but to say, “I am here. You are seen. I accept how you feel and honor that, but I am tangible proof you are not alone,” it made it easier to breathe for a moment.

I have a lot of gratitude for those points of light. I will be turning my attention to them on Monday. There were, and are, many people and things I am grateful for. They will be more visible when compared with these first two posts. I hope you will join me Monday and find gratitude as well.