I caught up with a friend recently. She told me she got back on her depression pills. She’s tried to stop using them before. It didn’t go well.
She hates that she has to use them to feel normal. But she also feels like it’s a false normal, like it’s not really her because she has to take pills to be that version of normal. She hates that when she doesn’t use them, she feels like that’s her real normal and she hates her real normal. Because without the pills she drifts away from everyone, and her only company is her thoughts, thoughts that she doesn’t even feel safe with. She becomes uninterested in everything she loves. She pushes people away so they don’t notice she’s not being herself. She doesn’t want to hang out with anyone. She doesn’t want to leave the house. Or the bed.
And once she gets back on her pills, she apologizes for not being a good friend like she should be. I get it. She was busy not existing as a friend because she was busy just trying to exist. When she’s tried to get off the pills, she’s treated me rough. Her brain tells her she can’t trust me, or rely on me, that our friendship is false, that it’s a mistake.
I’m as human as her. So when she goes through the darkness, I get sad as well. I question our friendship a little, I question how hard it gets to maintain. But I love her more than I can be sad or upset. And I pray for her and I pray that God helps me give her what she needs from me. And usually all I can give her is my presence after the dark has passed.
She told me she got back on her depression pills and she sounded a little defeated. I replied,
Don’t talk about your medication like you fail when you’re not on it and don’t talk about your medication like you fail because you have to be on it… maybe your little handful of thorns are in the shape of depression pills. It’s okay.
Jesus had a crown of thorns placed on His head as part of the process of dying for our sins. I think of the struggles we have to endure in this life as our little handful of thorns.
Some people hold on to the handful tightly. They want to hide the thorns from others and so they close their fists around it, white-knuckling their lives. But in the process, the thorns dig into their hands. It hurts, it wounds, there’s no chance to heal.
Or you can hold your handful of thorns with open hands. It’s there and it’s visible, but it doesn’t prick at you. It’s accessible for other people to grab some of the thorns and carry your burden with you.
It doesn’t mean you have to parade your handful of thorns for everyone to see and know your struggle. But don’t be ashamed of it either. Everyone carries their little handful of thorns. Seek people you trust to help carry the thorns with you.
I was looking through my journal, Being vulnerable with someone is a gift. It’s the gift of trust, of confidence. It doesn’t mean you have to be vulnerable with everyone, it means finding safe people and not letting shame or guilt get in the way of sharing.
So I’m really glad my friend has given me this gift of walking alongside her, helping her carry those little handful of thorns.
To be clear, I don’t think depression pills are wrong. I think God gives you what you need. No one thinks it’s wrong to use medicine when they have a migraine or a crutch when they are in a cast. But it’s the shame she feels that make the thorns look like pills. I wish I could take that shame away from her. But there’s only freedom from shame in Christ. I’m just really glad God let’s me be a part of the process with her and Him.
