I have had a mental illness since I was four years old. But let’s start with last Friday. I got a concussion and a pretty bruise on my face after I fainted. Why did I faint? Because my brain is broken and sometimes it takes over my entire body.
Before I tell you my diagnosis, I want you to know that this is the first time I am openly talking about this. And last week’s incident made me realize that I do all the things I fight against when it comes to stigma and mental illness. I compare myself to other people who have emotional pain and mental health challenges and I decide not to talk about me because I feel like it’s not such a big deal compared to what others go through. I minimize my experience and brush it off as something I can live with. And I can. I’ve gotten good at living with it and hiding it. Sometimes I’ve called it my “kryptonite.” This is the one thing in my life that can take me down and render me absolutely powerless. And this week showed me that my mental illness can cause other damage too. I’m lucky that my concussion wasn’t worse.
Ok, so here goes: I have a mental illness. It is called Blood/Injection/Injury type Specific Phobia. I remember so vividly the first time I learned that it had a name and research to back it up. Doctors my whole life had just basically said, “Well, that’s weird.” I’ve been tested for seizure disorders (with no results or explanations doctors have found worthy of writing in my chart). But a kind mentor who is a psychologist opened up the DSM (IV at that time) when I was in college and he showed me myself in those pages. He was the first person that knew what I had and could show me a diagnosis in black and white.
Specific phobias are different because avoidance is usually the best way to function most of the time. If you have a fear of snakes, don’t go to the reptile exhibit. Sounds easy, right? But sometimes life doesn’t let you avoid everything, and in my case like all humans I occasionally need medical treatment. Or I hear people talk about their medical experiences. Or someone I love is in the hospital. These encounters don’t happen every day, so it is easy for me to minimize. But the reality of my mental illness is that sometimes I cannot stay present with a person telling me the story of their pain. And I cannot go visit people in the hospital. And I have to work harder than everyone else to go get bloodwork done. And I have to let my husband take our children to any difficult medical appointments. And I only have those children because I found out about natural childbirth and realized I could have a needle-less and hospital-free childbirth. Which I did, twice.
I have had two rounds of treatment for my phobia, once in college (after I learned it was a thing) and once about six years ago (when my counselor training came in handy and I did it to myself). Systematic desensitization is the most effective treatment, and in my first treatment experience I had about ten sessions with a counselor working through a hierarchy of anxiety-producing things while practicing relaxation. We started with the easiest and worked our way up to me going and getting my flu shot (yes, that was the hardest medical trigger I could even face at the time). And I did it. That treatment helped me overcome the anxiety enough so that in my adulthood I would not choose to avoid medical treatment altogether. At that time, I knew that I would be entering into grownup life and I could make my own decisions. Which meant if I wanted to avoid the doctor or dental work or hospitals, I could. But that can come with some serious consequences, and so my first round of treatment helped me be willing to face adult decisions.
My second systematic desensitization came when my dad was in the ICU for three weeks. I went to the hospital every day to be with my dad and my family. I spent hours in the waiting room, only to actually see my dad for about 30 seconds. I went in with my husband the first time and told him I would be staying no more than 30 seconds. It might have been 10 honestly. I knew I needed to get in and get out and succeed so that I could teach myself it was okay. And I did. After about a week, I could sit with him for 15 minutes, and eventually I think I made my way up to an hour. I wish I could say that that cured my fear of hospitals, but sadly I would have to start all over again if someone in my family was hospitalized. I can’t visit someone once. It has to take 3 weeks.
You might not think that my unusual illness has intersected with my faith, but it most certainly has. Like many other Christians with all kinds of mental illnesses, I hoped at one point that Jesus would be enough to carry me through and overcome my challenges. In college there were many ministry opportunities, and one of them was visiting AIDS patients in a nearby hospital. Of course I thought this was very worth doing, and I asked Jesus to let faith be enough for me to do his work. With great faith and a lot of prayer I signed up for that ministry and attended the training. I made it through literally three minutes of that training before I had to get up and leave the room. I stood outside the door crying, trying not to faint, and wrestling with myself. I asked Jesus why he wouldn’t help me overcome this since my heart was so very much in the right place. As the training video continued to play, the leader came out to the hallway and asked if I was okay. I told her a brief version of my story and how I wanted to be able to minister to anyone. She said some of the kindest words I had ever heard: “Kristen, you don’t have to be able to do everything.”
I have come to accept the fact that my mental illness will be understood by very few people. I have come to accept the fact that I am not able to do everything. Anxiety gets in my way, and when I do not flee fast enough, it takes me down. Literally. Hard smack on the concrete floor. (And no, I did not go to the emergency room last week… But I had my husband do a phone consult with a medical professional for me and I have been resting at home non-stop since it happened.) My phobia interferes with my ministry and sometimes it changes my ability to be a present counselor. If I do not flee fast enough, my brain will check out for me. My mind has a mind of its own.
I am still afraid that people reading this will think I am being dramatic. Even others who have a mental illness might judge me because what they face is far more pervasive. But I decided to tell my story because we need to stop comparing ourselves and let every story stand alone. I decided to tell my story because we need to name mental illness and broaden the picture of what those words mean. I decided to tell my story because I know first hand that faith is not enough to overcome illness. Miracles can happen, and if I ever visit you in the hospital or donate blood or listen to your story of surgery then you will know that a miracle has occurred. Until that happens, I will name my illness and honor the limitations it places in my life. If I had not been afraid to seem weird or disruptive last week while sitting with another person’s pain, I would have laid down on the floor first so that my fainting would not injure me. I let stigma stop me, and I don’t plan to do that anymore.
Thank you for being brave enough to share your story!
I hope this helps other Christians to be more sensitive to mental health issues that anyone can deal with.
God bless you. ❤
What a powerful and beautifully written post! I believe everyone reading with any mental illness could understand how even one area of life being affected by a mental illness can ultimately have wide ranging effects. Praise God that today you and the people close to you are healthy. If at any point that were to change, it totally makes sense that this challenge would unfortunately end up being a much larger part of your life. I feel like many illnesses are that way. The situation in life we find ourselves in can make for a larger or smaller impact of an illness, even when the illness itself does not change.
When a diabetic is homeless, they struggle to find places to store their insulin or even find appropriate food. When a person with Celiac is traveling they may end up getting sick because they are forced to go to restaurants they don’t know if they can trust to be truly gluten free. When someone with PTSD is triggered by abusive men they may have constant anxiety when a bully is in their life beyond their control, such as a new boss or neighbor or in-law or even just Donald Trump after he recently became president and has been railing with abusive and mysogynistic language on every TV screen no matter where you go.
Accommodating our own disabilities is something we do naturally, setting our life up in ways that make things easier, like a person who uses a mobility device (wheelchair) choosing to live in a building with a ramp. In many ways it is not the physical issue itself that is the barrier, but it is the lack of accommodations – the lack of a “ramp” if you will. Disability is a funny thing in that it effects us all at some point if we live long enough.
I” really glad to see this post encouraging a more open dialogue. I do hope we as a society can have more open and vulnerable dialogues on this subject where Stigma can continue to be reduced. When I really think about Stigma for disability, whether mental or physical, it does just strike me as rather silly. All humans are frail. As the prayer in Scriptire says… “Remeber oh Lord, that I am but dust.” We would, I think, do well not only to ask God to remember, but to remind ourselves, to remind one another, and to accept both ourselves and one another as we are, and do our very best to care for one another in our weaknesses and not judge or reject each other.
I’m sure everyone reading this is already well on their way towards this goal. But, still, I am glad to take a moment to be reminded of it myself, even as I write, not just for you, the person or people who see this comment, but for me, too.
Thank you for being so honest. Honesty is an underrated virtue. Your work is making a difference. Your daily messages are an encouragement for those of us bowed down under despair. It’s just about sowing seeds, planting positive thoughts. When negativity rises up, I remember something I read. For all suffering Christians, ponder our security in the Lord and the glory to come. Take a large dose of that. We may be broken in many ways but we are still useful, we can still do something for the Lord. And the Lord sees, and He knows, and He rejoices over us in His heart, little old us, His beautiful beloved child.
Wow. Thank you for opening up and being vulnerable and sharing your experiences. As someone who also has a mental illness (bipolar, borderline personality disorder, and PTSD) I so deeply appreciate your sharing your story.
I have also struggled many times with my faith and all of the questions that a mental illness brings. There have been many times when I have tried to hide from God because I didn’t want Him to “see me like this” — I thought that I needed to have it all together in order to be acceptable. But then I realize the power of the Cross and why Jesus came and who He spent time with etc. This helps me to realize that I am fully accepted and deeply loved beyond words or imagination and gives me a sense of hope to hold onto even in the darkest hours. Part of me definitely longs for Heaven and to be whole and to be home, which is a longing that God created and only He can fill in His time. But part of me also wants to be a way through which God extends His love and grace and healing to the world. There is a purpose and a reason for me being here, even though in my depression sometimes I cannot see it.
Thank you again for sharing and being vulnerable and being a strong voice for the hurting who need to hear and experience the love of God.
Thank you for sharing! I’ve had difficulty connecting my own anxiety and depression with my faith, and finding answers about things. You must be so proud of how you were able to spend so much time with your father in ICU! That’s amazing progress, regardless of whether it’s repeatable!!!
One thing I have found in spending time in group therapy was that those who experience any form of mental illness are far more understanding and accepting of those who have issues. To share your struggles is courageous, and whether or not someone understands or wants to trivialize what you deal with daily doesn’t minimize its effect on you.
Thank you again and well done!