I've had my juvenile days of pretending I have it all together, preaching to the masses, and saying stupid things that I thought were wise. Now, I'm only wise enough to know I'm not very wise. I know I don't have it all together. And, maybe that's where wisdom comes from--the ability to freely admit our weakness
Every morning--well, almost every morning--I wake up at five. The first thing I do is make coffee. A fifteen-minute ritual.
It was an important reminder that I somehow managed to reflect upon as I muttered the most miserable version of Old MacDonald in Isaiah's ear. On the other side of pain, discomfort, and conflict is, very often, healing.
The thing with overthinkers is that we are thoughtful, inquisitive, and perceiving--we are sponges soaking up the world around us. But we can easily get lost, asking question after question like one step after another into a dark cave until we find ourselves trapped in the darkness. Our problem is we don’t know how to stop thinking, or when to turn our minds around.
The Church has many flaws. These flaws turn individuals away and have positioned the Church as less and less credible to a greater society. In writing about the Church being a resource to help those with depression, I do so with hesitation, knowing we often fail people in giving them a sense of authentic community and we will continue to do so moving forward.
I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Why we do what we do. Why we struggle or why we thrive. What urges our pursuits, and navigates our ambition? Everything (and I am beginning to believe everything) boils down to two driving or lacking factors in each of us: an individual's sense of purpose and belonging. Isn't it true we all want to know why we exist, and for whom we exist?
Depression doesn't have to be a conversation-killer. With these six important principles, you can ensure that a heavy conversation will lighten the mental and emotional burden of a friend.
I have those mornings sometimes. I wake up with the kids and put on an Academy Award-winning performance until they leave for school. As soon as my wife Lauren leaves to drive them though, all the adrenaline gets sapped out of me and I crawl back into bed.
Rob sat across from me at a sleek white table on the patio of Detroit's New Order Coffee. The steam from each of our mugs twiddled with the dawn in the calm before the storm--the storm of emotions I knew would soon whirl out of control at the feet of a therapist named Justin.
It seems depression leads to the need for help, and the cost of help leads to more depression and anxiety. Half the time, I want to give up on the pursuit of professionally-aided mental health, buy myself a six-pack, and revert again to choking down my emotions in the Harry Potter closet under the stairs.