Sometimes it is so dark in here...

I seemed to me to be a failure as a Pastor and Professional Councilor. After all, I was secure in my salvation in Jesus, been sealed by His Holy Spirit into the family of God, and ordained into the ministry by a righteous group of Elders. Why was depression a problem for me? What did I have to be depressed about? I had a great wife, a good job, good support in friends and family. Life should have been good, but I didn't see it that way and I didn't understand why!

I knew I needed to talk to someone...but I was the one people came to talk to...I was the professional councilor...I was everyone's Pastor...I found myself in a perceived corner which was only making my situation (the one in my head) worse.

I prayed about it constantly, pleading for God's forgiveness for being so weak, asking Him for help in overcoming this depression, asking - no, begging - for a hedge of protection from the demons that were tormenting my mind and soul. I was too ashamed to ask His protection in dealing with the suicidal thoughts that offered me a sweet release from my pain. I was ordained as a minister of His Good News - but it offered me no comfort.

I couldn't understand why depression was such a problem for me.

My momma was an alcoholic; an abusive alcoholic. She and my dad had a "strained" relationship. He chose to work most all the time as to not be at home. My older brother (by 11 years) is mentally handicapped. Though he is regarded as "retarded" it is in ways educational. He has more common sense and practical knowledge than most anybody I know. As a child I was quiet and introspective. Momma would drink at night and stay up crying when Daddy was at work. As I got older - Momma began to yell at me over little things. If I talked back, she would slap me a time or two for being rude. It didn't take long for me to figure out I needed to keep my mouth shut. Then she started hitting me for not saying anything. Needless to say for a 10 year old this was very confusing. I finally realized that if my dad said something my mom didn't like I would be hit for it (never in front of my dad, mind you). I also realized that if my brother did something to make my mom angry I would end up getting hit for it. She didn't want to drive my dad off again and she couldn't bring herself to hit my brother, so, I am the one who got it.

By being good and getting punished, I came to believe that I might as well be bad. So I was. But to be as bad as I wanted to be, I needed help. Alcohol fueled Momma's rage so maybe it would fuel mine. It did, in a big way. The rest of this story is for another time...but it explains why I suffered with depression for such a long time.

The hardest thing I had to do was accept the fact that I had an illness. God made me, He loves me...just the way I am. I take medication to keep me out of the darkness. I still deal with some of the guilt associated with a Preacher having depression. That is when Satan is putting the pressure on. God gives us the strength to deal with the pressure, He is good like that!!!