2/4 | Rewiring My Life

I have run a half marathon. As you would expect, I was pretty tired afterwards. However, far more exhausting was asking my father-in-law for his blessing to marry his daughter. I was completely knackered by the end of it.

I was staying up at MacMasters with my wife’s family for the week. Thankfully, it had not been on my mind to ask for his blessing during this time. The thought had not even occurred to me. Until one morning when all the girls had left to do some shopping and it was just me and him. Something clicked and I realised that I had been presented with a prime opportunity.

This is when the panic kicked in! My throat tightened. My stomach dropped. My mouth became dry. I went to the kitchen to drink some water. I prayed. I drank some more water. I went and sat back down. I wrote down what I was going to say on a piece of paper. I stood back up. I paced around the room. I went back into the kitchen. I drank some more water. I went and sat back down - this time a little bit closer to him. I was about to speak when I realised that I needed to pee. I went to the bathroom. Splashed some water on my face. Gave myself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror. Went back out and sat down. I thought that I should have a glass of water with me just in case. I went back into the kitchen. Poured a glass of water. Brought it back out to the living room. I sat down even closer to him! Meanwhile, my father-in-law is totally oblivious to my panic-stricken shenanigans. I took three deep breaths. Paused. Then whimpered ‘hey, can I ask you a question? ’ It was all good after that. But, I was totally and completely emotionally wasted afterwards.

The only other time when I was incredibly nervous speak was when I told my parents that I had thought about killing myself. This was very hard to do. The unknown of how they would respond, the extreme vulnerability, as well as the inability to articulate what was going on, created a terrifying combination of fear and anxiety.

How on earth do you bring something like this up? There is never a good time to tell your parents that you have considered taking your own life. I had no idea how I got to this point of considering death. The fact I was even thinking about it made me terrified. What was wrong with me?!

Mum and dad were aware that I wasn't my usual self. I had mentioned a couple of times that I was feeling increasingly sad or emotional in the months leading up to this conversation. However, I wanted them to know how bad it had become. It took a long time to find the courage. As I began talking, I was finding it really hard to bring up the idea of suicide. To my relief mum asked, ‘have you ever thought about harming yourself? ’ At first I couldn’t form any words. All I could do was nod my head as I burst into tears. I was so grateful that mum was able to read the room and bring up the idea of self-harm. It was comforting that I no longer had to agonise about how to bring it up.

Going into this conversation I was under the impression that as soon as I shared my secret, I would instantly feel light and burden-free. I thought the heavy weight would no longer be on my shoulders. Unfortunately, I was misinformed. Because, although I was relieved to have shared my struggle with someone, I was still unsure how mum and dad would respond to their child thinking of suicide.

To my absolute delight, both mum and dad responded with gentleness and care. They filled the room with a calmness and stability. They stopped what they were doing and became fully present to me and my situation. I think mum was ironing when I first started talking to her. I can imagine she was probably half thinking about the thousands of chores and loose-ends she needed to get on with. However, once the notion of self-harm entered the conversation, without hesitation she came and sat down. Rather than downplaying what I had said, or dismissing my emotion, they encouraged me to let my emotion go. As I sobbed, they reassured me to ‘let it all out ’. I believe it was this response that slowly lifted the heaviness from within. Although I was so utterly vulnerable, I felt an incredible and complete safety in the response of my parents.

Myths & lies

Counsellors and psychologists are for girls. It is only now that I see how misguided and ignorant that belief is. But, back when I was struggling, I was convinced that counsellors were for high school girl drama. I genuinely thought that counsellors dealt with teenage breakups and helped students get extensions for exams at school. I didn’t know any guys who had seen a counsellor.

Another myth I was unconsciously believing during this time was that counsellors aren’t helpful for Christians. Christians have senior ministers, youth ministers and potentially a school chaplain. And, if they all fail - Christians have God... Why on earth would a Christian go and see a counsellor?

And now, mum and dad are recommending that I go and see one.

I was unaware at the time, but I now see that those two myths had been perpetuating some of the anxiety and fear I was feeling. These inadvertent lies had snuck their way into my consciousness and distorted the way I viewed my self, my faith and other Christians.

A distorted self

“There must be something wrong with me.”

“How dare you be so ungrateful for your own life.”

“I am a serious danger to my life.”

I felt like an embarrassment to myself. I should be able to control my emotions. I am an adult. I am a male - I should be better than this. I felt like a shell of the person I used to be. Without noticing, I had adopted so many negative thoughts about myself. I was unaware that I was punishing myself for feeling this way, over and over again. I longed to go back to 'chill’ Nath. The Nathan who was enjoyable to be with, could have a laugh, was confident in himself. I would compare that Nathan to this shadow-like state. Anxious about family gatherings, fearful of work, apathetic about football. I was angry, frustrated and unforgiving towards myself.

A damaging faith

“God is so disappointed with me”

“I need to have more faith in Him”

“It is my selfishness that is motivating my desire for heaven”

I had followed Jesus for as long as I could remember. I grew up being taught the beautiful truths of the Gospel. I had been a youth leader for 5 years. And yet, somehow my theology had no framework for depression, suicidal ideation or crippling guilt and shame. This bout of mental illness exposed many gaps in my understanding of God.

God had somehow become a robot. Overtime, He had become a supernatural being that lacked any positive emotion or affection. A God more concerned about my wickedness and failings than the hurt I was feeling. A God who hated both the sin and the sinner. A God who was intellectually rich and yet emotionally limited.

There was a lie which slithered its way into my thought process. It was that emotions are fleeting and unreliable and therefore they are not to be trusted. As if we are souls trapped in a wicked and evil body. A spiritual disconnect between body and spirit. Therefore, the antidote to any and all mental illness is more faith, prayer and bible.

A disillusioned perception of other christians

“I must be the only one”

“I am so messed up”

“They wouldn’t understand”

I genuinely thought mental illness was a direct link to being separated from God. I had no idea that switched-on, faithful, Bible-believing Christians could suffer from anxiety and depression. I knew the Bible was explicit - we are to hand our anxiety over to God. Simple. Surely, the joy of knowing Christ would counteract any sort of depression.

I knew one or two people who had some experiences with mental illness but as I looked around at my friends and family I saw a lot of happy and healthy Christians. I remember Bible study prayer points were so often, ‘pray I would read my Bible more… pray for my school assignment coming up… pray I would invite someone to youth group’. While there is nothing wrong with these prayers, it disillusioned me. It taught me that these were the hardest things that Christians go through.

The flow on effect was that I felt so alone when I was confronted with my longing for Heaven. My desire for Heaven was leading me towards suicidal ideation. Meanwhile, I was under the impression that other Christians were annoyed that they only read three Psalms a week. Oh no, what a shame. And, while others were guilty for not inviting more mates to youth group, I felt guilty for dwelling on ending my life.

This is not to blame and to point the finger. I was so dearly loved and cared for by all my youth leaders and youth ministers. I knew that if I was to be real and vulnerable with my leaders they would have done all they could to get me through it. They were such faithful leaders and I have so much to be thankful for. And in regards to the superficial prayer points, I was just as guilty as everyone else. It is so much easier to ask for prayer for Bible reading than to let down your guard down and become vulnerable. We were all just copying each other. And now as I lead my own youth I find it difficult to know the wisdom about how much to share.

However, by not sharing my struggles and by not hearing other people’s hardships, I began to believe that I was the only one who was going through some serious pain. The only Christian who was hurting. Even though I was going to church and youth group each week, relationally I was drifting further and further away from my church family. This fuelled the misconception that there was something wrong with me, that I was a disappointment to God and that I was alone in my troubles.

Rewiring My Life

Booking an appointment with a psychologist was a big step in my recovery. What I didn’t know at the time was that I would need a surgical rewiring of my mind. That is, a holistic change in the way I viewed myself and the way I saw God.

I began seeing the psychologist. At first it was slow and a bit awkward. While I didn’t have a problem talking about myself, I left the first session feeling confused. I enjoyed the 60 minute session in which I could just talk about myself. Social rules and etiquette aren’t followed in a therapeutic relationship. You don’t have to ask the counsellor how they are. You don’t have to take turns telling stories. For the hour it is all about you. I loved it.

However, as the session drew to a close, I began to realise that I wasn’t fixed. In fact, I was feeling pretty similar to how I walked in. And as I walked to my car, it dawned upon me that it may take a while for me to heal.

Restoring My Self

The journey of recovery felt much quicker after the third session. We had begun to dismantle some of my negative thought patterns. I was able to ground my particular situation within my family of origin. I became aware of the changes taking place in my life. And, it became apparent that difficult events from my past were affecting the way I was feeling.

Each negative emotion that I experienced now had meaning. It was no longer ‘I just feel sad, but I don’t know why’. It became, ‘I feel sad because I am grieving the way my family used to be. I miss the ordinary joys of living with siblings under the same roof. Afternoons are quieter with no playful shenanigans and rumbles. By growing up and with my family changing I have lost something that I really valued. This is why I find it particularly triggering when I am home alone or when it is quiet around the house.’ This is just one of a number of realisations. I was gaining perspective upon the context in which my emotions were situated. There were reasons behind the madness! The psychologist was able to mend my distorted sense of self. This brought me assurance, comfort and answers that I was so desperately looking for.

However, her ability to tap into my desire for Heaven was limited. When it came to suicide she was incredibly helpful. She was able to show me why I was having such a visceral reaction to the fear that I may take my own life. She helped me form a safety plan and gave me self-calming techniques. She even showed me evidence that deep down I didn’t want to die because I had reached out to my parents and to my girlfriend. It was clear that she had expertise on suicide prevention.

All that being said, while this psychologist was qualified in suicide prevention, I believe she wasn’t fully equipped to deal with my longing for Heaven. The psychologist was a Christian woman who made me feel comfortable in sharing my faith. But, when I brought up this deep desire to be in Heaven where I could no longer disappoint God, her only comment was along the lines of ‘I am no expert, but I don’t think God would want that for you.’ While her sentiment is accurate and true, we never unpacked or got to the root of this deep theological distortion that I was believing. This is a shame, but I also recognise that this is not her job. In regards to all things cognition and emotion, she was incredible. However, this spiritual desire to please God was deeply rooted in my theology and therefore out of her realm.

Despite this, the psychologist brought clarity to the blurriness in which I was living. She equipped me with the tools and skills to hold my anxiety while I dissected it apart. To find the thought behind the emotion and then to rationalise and to test that thought. Personally, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) did wonders. It made me so grateful for the wisdom and science that God has given many counsellors and psychologists. I am truly thankful that my parents recommended that I saw a psychologist.

But I was still left with a dangerous disillusion that in order to bring God true and everlasting glory, I would need to bring Heaven to the present. By being a sinner, I was hurting God. I was displeasing Him. I was disappointing Him and so the only hope was for me to bring about the perfection that is found in Heaven.