Glad, Mad, Sad, Afrad: Our Driving Emotions.

A prototype chapter to the workbook.

The goal of this chapter is NOT to offer five quick and easy steps to controlling your emotions, nor can it take away all the nastiness you may feel. I can’t wave a magic wand to fix all that’s broken, I can’t snap my fingers and take away your depression. I can’t make you feel worthy of existing any more than I can implant in you the will to keep living. But I can offer you love. I can introduce you ways to tend to your emotions so not only do they not control you, but they work with you. My hope is that this chapter when it is done will give a newer, healthier perspective on emotions and the relationship we could have with them, and in turn how we see ourselves. My hope is that as you grow you will gradually learn to explore your inner workings not with fear and disgust, but with compassionate curiosity, and eventually see yourself NOT as a prisoner to yourself, but a dear companion with whom you’re going on a life-long adventure. I would not dare to dream that I could possibly accomplish all of this myself in a mere blog post (even one so fantastic and advanced as this that it eventually gets published in a workbook), but I do hope God will use this post to create a bit of a crack to let some light in. The heavy-lifting is up to Him. In this chapter I will invite the readers to look at emotions with me, not out of fear or disgust as if we’re lifting a rock to look at ugly, slimy things you would rather not touch. Instead, let’s look at our hearts with curiosity, and compassion.

A Bit of Earth

As we look at who we are (with a special focus on our emotions), we’re going to imagine we are a bit of earth being cultivated into a garden. Contrary to how you might feel sometimes, you are not JUST a ball of pulsing emotions. You are a mental/emotional AND physical AND spiritual being, and all three elements must be present to make a person. In this garden metaphor, our Spirit is the landscape in which everything is planted and shapes the entire garden, our mental/emotional state is anything that grows there, and our physical self is everything we put into the garden to make it grow (water, plant food, sunshine, etc.). You, the garden, are not exclusively any single part of the property, you are a culmination of the whole.

This summer I spent a lot of time helping my friends Zoe and James with their garden. Well I say “garden,” but that’s overly generous to the point of dishonesty. My friends were new homeowners, and within six months had given their backyard up as lost. Whenever our Bible Study asked about the yard they would hunch over in defeat. Being an avid gardener confined in an apartment, I volunteered to come over during my vacation and take a look, just for funsies. When I got there for the first time, I literally couldn’t find the yard. Their housemate Andrew had to take me to the back porch and point out the fenced acre spanning below us, and assure me there was a garden in there… somewhere.

In reality it was a fenced jungle of jewelweed, hundreds of 6ft tall weeds we still can’t identify, and (I eventually found out the hard way), poison ivy. I couldn’t even see most of the fence, you sort of had to guess at its general location based on where the mounds of vines rose slightly higher than other places. Weeks later I learned the parameters ended 6-10 feet farther than I had previously estimated. In this story, the weeds are insecurities, sin, isolation, addiction, neglect, and other things that can overshadow and crush our emotions. Notice what I did not include as a weed: Emotions we often identify as “bad” such as anger, sadness, disgust, or fear.

In my friends’ Fire Swamp, the weeds were not the only culprits contributing to the safety hazard that threatened to swallow any poor unsuspecting soul who managed to get down the hill without breaking their neck. Some of the intentional plants were also at fault. There were plenty of flowers lost in there to be sure, but nothing good could flourish! That which had learned to live with the weeds were either barely surviving and couldn’t bear fruit despite their valiant efforts, or else they had overcompensated for their lack of space and became like a weed, choking everything in its path so it could have room to live. The blackberry bushes had grown so large they crushed the smaller plants around them, trees and bushes hadn’t been pruned in years, and the creeping Clematis was strangling everything within a 5-foot radius. In this story, the flowers are all of our emotions (both the good AND negative feeling ones). When our mental health isn’t doing well, our emotions, like these flowers, can choke us and struggle to survive. As I carefully slid down the hill for the first time (the stone steps had long since been washed away by rain) it became evident this was not going to be taken care of in a week or even two. This is a pretty good depiction of what we’re like when our emotions are left to their own devices.

One of the "pathways" down.

I began pulling weeds and pruning the good plants back. From July to August (roughly 5 weeks and over a hundred hours), over 60 giant biodegradable bags were stuffed and trashed. Half the time I wasn’t even sure if a plant was a weed or a dying flower. Constantly I had to take care to unwind a strangling vine away from an herb I wanted to save. I slowly found stone pathways, two birdbaths, a vintage watering can, and a greenhouse. There was a small strawberry patch, a blueberry bush, hydrangeas, two butterfly bushes, and a white rose. My friends had no idea these things were in their yard at all. Very much like this adventure in my friends’ garden, deciphering our emotions from the negative thoughts growing alongside can be very difficult. But we must do it.

The same "pathway," up.

I have two final details before we leave this metaphor and dive into emotions… First, the original problem that eventually led to this leafy carnage was neither the weeds nor the flowers. Weeds did not suddenly spring up, 6-8 feet tall and blocking the sunshine, nor did the flowers and berry bushes become unmanageable overnight. The previous owners had neglected the space and let it grow wild. As weeds slowly grew, the owner left them to spread. As the flowers needed tending, no one pruned them. When my friends moved in, they were so overwhelmed they did nothing, and let the chaos continue. Remember, before I volunteered to have a look they had given up their backyard as lost. We cannot do that to ourselves.

The second detail, and I intentionally left this for the end, is that while I pulled plants taller than I was, I had a sprained wrist. I had fallen down a flight of stairs a few weeks before, and my left hand had to be braced at all times. So while I tended this thicket, I had to be careful to not further an injury I already had. I needed to take breaks, even when I wanted to continue and fill just one more bag. I had to let people know I was down there, so if I slipped and got hurt they would know to look for me. And as the bags of leaves and weeds got filled, I needed to ask for help bringing them to the side of the road, because I wasn’t strong enough to safely carry them up the hill. Don’t get me wrong, I technically could have done it. But not without hurting my wrist even more. Instead, several times a week another friend from Bible Study, Lorna, would join me. Smaller than me but with two working hands, Lorna valiantly dragged dozens of bags up the hill through the path I had cleared. Incidentally, we became much better friend as a result of this excursion.

Lorna poses beside the carnage we are about to uproot.

I want these thoughts to be in the forefront as we slide down the hill to take a look at what’s growing in your mental garden: The weeds and flowers are overgrown, and you have a sprained wrist that needs to be guarded. Err on the side of caution and grab a buddy before going in if you need to.

Let’s go.

Articulating All the Feelings

Emotions can be hard to articulate, can’t they? I can’t remember how many times someone has asked me how I feel, how I really feel, and in the moment of truth I haven’t the foggiest idea what to say. Words can be hard, and trying to describe the inner turmoil is exhausting. I’m a grown-up who reads doctoral level books and I still struggle to find words to explain what I’m experiencing inside. We’re not alone, and when we hit walls like this, it’s ok to turn to external sources for help. We’re going to start with a little activity right now. The image below is an Emotion Wheel. A simpler version was first developed by Dr. Robert Plutchik, but this is the one I use because it has more options. Notice how the outer rings all stem from seven core emotions, and they become gradually more specific the farther out you go. If you were to pick out the words that best described how you were feeling right now, which would you choose? There’s no limit!

Of the words you chose, it’s possible they’re closely related OR seemingly have nothing to do with each other. It's perfectly possible to feel hopeful AND betrayed AND unfocused. Or whatever crazy-combo you came up with. For someone who genuinely is trying to figure out their inner world, the conflict of emotions can often feel threatening, as if you’ve been caught in a lie you didn’t even know you made. But rest assured, having conflicting emotions doesn’t make them any less valid. You can see on the wheel how many possibilities there are!

My counselor, Mari, gave me an exercise you might like to try: Pick all the emotions from the wheel you identify with, and draw a pie chart- percentage and all. I will too:

Notice how I color-coded to match the Emotion Wheel. The day I created this chart I was feeling all sorts of emotions, and I wasn’t even tapping into all of them! The mystery section marked “Other” should probably have been marked “irritated” because it took me WAY TO LONG to figure out how to plug this pie chart in Google Drive! Usually I just draw them. Notice too that most of the emotions fall under the “Sad, Angry, Bad” categories. But if a friend asked me how I was, I think I could honestly say I was doing alright: A little tired, a little frustrated, looking forward to finals being over, in need of a cup of coffee, but overall ok. Remember Pixar’s Inside Out where the emotion memory balls could be happy AND sad? You can too. It’s ok to have conflict.

Driving Emotions

There are no such things as “Good” and “Bad” emotions: There are simply emotions. Granted, emotions like happiness and excitement feel good, while others like sadness, disgust, anger, and fear, feel bad. But they in and of themselves are not bad. It is only in the abuse, overemphasis, or neglect of our emotions that they lead to internal or external destruction. Like my friends’ garden, the roses and berry bushes weren’t bad, they were just out of control!

I like to refer to the negative/uncomfortable emotions as Driving Emotions, and they are our “mind thermometers." Initially it isn’t bad to feel cold, it’s merely a warning sign that your body is uncomfortable. Eventually it can bother you, even alert you to something very wrong (the furnace being off, a window left open, chills from a creeping illness), and this calls for some sort of action. If you don’t, you’re sure to catch cold. THAT’S where the “trouble” tends to start and we starts labeling our Driving Emotions as “bad.” If I was cold, and I punched someone because they had the blanket I wanted, then I responded to something neutral (feeling cold) with something bad (punching my sister). But if I used my cold to express my need, and sought out a blanket through healthy means (getting one from my room, or asking to share with my sister) then cold was used to spur on something good. To the same effect, if I find myself angry, and use my rage to blindly punch someone or blast someone on the internet, that’s bad. But if I take stock and notice I’m feeling angry because someone was rude to me, or was abusing someone weak, and that spurred me on to defend or speak out against injustice, that is good. Feeling angry or sad in and of itself, is ok.

“But it FEELS BAD!” I hear you quietly shouting on the inside as you read this.

Yes, it does. And it should. If our shoe is rubbing our ankle and forming a blister, it should be painful, otherwise we would ignore it and cause more damage until the shoe rubs down to the bone! Some things should feel bad. If your appendix is about to burst, the pain in your tummy will alert you to go to the hospital. If your foot is sprained, the pain will stop you from jumping on it. We can typically understand this with physical problems, so let’s give our emotions the same courtesy: A fearful lurching in our stomach should suggest that jumping off that building is not a great idea. If we see injustice, we should feel angry, otherwise no one would speak out. If someone we thought was a friend betrays us, we should feel sad, otherwise we never truly valued the relationship. If we haven’t really connected with people in awhile, we should feel lonely, or we’d never see people. It’s when these emotions are abused, overemphasized, or neglected that they become a problem. Let’s take a look at our primary driving emotions Glad, Mad, Sad, Afrad (“afraid” but it had to rhyme).

Glad: Happiness and Joy.

Happy

Even if you can’t remember the last time it happened, we’ve all been happy. The fact you might not be feeling it now emphasizes that happiness is conditional. It’s when you get a cookie, someone says you look nice, the sky is especially blue, or it’s your turn to take care of Dr. Fluffy the classroom Hamster. These happinesses are temporary, and wholly dependent on the root cause. If the cookie fell to the ground and crumbled beyond salvation, the happiness would be replaced with sadness and disappointment. If the blue skies suddenly filled with storm clouds and ruined your hair, you would understandably be frustrated. If the teacher realized it was actually Suzy’s turn to take Dr. Fluffy and snatched the cage from your hands, well, suddenly you’re having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day! This is not to bash happiness- I LOVE happiness! And we need several helpings a day to remain sane. But often we see happiness as the be-all and end-all to our emotional goals, and we’ll do anything to keep it.

Imagine you could play your favorite movie whenever you wanted. It makes you laugh, it makes you cry happy tears, it makes you forget how bad you day’s been. There’s nothing wrong with playing it to unwind! But then imagine you decided to watch it 24/7, because it was better than facing your homework or job, or those uncomfortable feelings of loneliness, and you just didn’t want to think about the fight you had with your friend, or or or… This is one of the many ways addiction takes root. Think of the people we know who spend hours upon hours playing video games, or surfing the internet, or binge eating cookies. Any of these things in moderation can be just fine. But in the pursuit of happiness (or more precisely the avoidance of discomfort) this will lead to self-sabotage. Eventually the movie won’t even make you happy, it’ll just numb.

Joy

Joy is more than a feeling, it’s the defiant choice to view and live your life based it on a confidence that cannot be tampered with. In the Harry Potter series, J. K. Rowling introduced Dementors: creepy, happiness-sucking creatures that represent her depression. Harry is especially sensitive to these monsters. Their effects on Harry get so bad, his teacher privately tutors him how to produce a Patronus, a magical guardian to shield him from the crushing gloom. “You must think of something happy.” Professor Lupin instructs. Harry imagines the first time he rode a broomstick, but nothing happens. “No no no, it needs to be something stronger.” Lupin urges. Harry remembers when he learned he was a wizard, and he manages to produce a tiny wisp of smoke. Harry thinks of his best friends, Ron and Hermione, the two who have become his family, who have put their lives on the line for him, and always always come back. He knows even if they have a fight, even if they die, their friendship will remain sacred. At last Harry is able to conjure a fully fledged Patronus and drives the Dementors away.

As Christians, we can use the concept of the Patronus and merge it with our faith to find our everlasting joy. Often when I feel my depression creeping in I defiantly chant under my breath “Christ is risen from the dead!” and think of people in my life who love me. I imagine a silver fox (or more likely a horde of chubby hamsters) charging whatever gloom is in my mind. This does not cure my depression or anxiety, but it buys me the time I need to phone a friend and get to safety.

Mad

Anger is the emotion most people struggle to come to terms with as possibly good, and understandably so- it feels rotten! So often we see the destructive effects it can have on relationships. Like a fire, anger is a burning, coursing energy that wishes to consume everything in its path. But fire, like anger, is merely a tool. It’s how and why we use it that matters. Fire can roast marshmallows and cook dinner, it can melt metals and refine silver. Growing up, my family’s main source of heat was our fireplace, and we constantly fed it logs and twigs from the woods. At the same time, the fire that kept us warm had the potential to burn the house down if left unchecked. Fire can destroy, even kill. It’s the same with anger.

When healthy, anger can alert us to gross injustice and cause us to defend the weak (people like William Wilberforce who dedicated his life to abolishing the slave trade in England was most definitely angry at how people were being treated- it ate at him until he simply had to act!). Anger can give us strength to see something through to the end (“I’ll show all of them!”), and it can make us so uncomfortable we are unable to sit still while someone is being tormented in our presence. Used poorly and without discretion, anger can drive us to hurt others with our actions or words. We’ve all wished we could swallow the words back. And we likely all know someone who punched a hole through the wall, or verbally lashed out in anger and severely damaged a relationship.

If I sense myself getting angry (the more you pay attention the sooner you can feel it flaring up) I’ll do what I can to back up, take stock, and write down the causes. So often all I need to refrain from exploding is to identify what’s bothering me and why. Taking this much needed pause often spares me the humiliation of needing to apologize later. If you’re in a situation that absolutely requires your immediate response, a good rule of thumb is to imagine you’re being recorded and whatever you do or say will be broadcasted across the internet and specifically shown to your best friend, your crush, the little kid who looks up to you, and your grandmother. You probably don’t want the world to see you verbally tearing someone apart for bumping into you or just being annoying. But if someone is picking on a smaller kid, snapping a girl’s bra strap, or throwing out racially insensitive slurs, a video of you telling the jerk to back off is something the internet could stand to gain.

A word about PMS anger…

Sometimes, depending on the time of the month, there isn’t really a cause for your anger, it just throbs ominously in your ears with each pounding heartbeat. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to breathe too loudly, or have the audacity to eat crackers in your presence. For times such as this, the best solution I have found is to remind myself that I have a bag of m&ms at home and if I can get through the day without killing anyone, I can eat all of them. We are not above bribery on these days. It’s best to alert some friends what’s going on so they don’t grow concerned about your silence, chew some gum so you don’t bite anyone, and keep your mouth shut. Both barrels are loaded, don’t point the gun at anyone, no matter how loudly they breathe. It isn’t fair, but sometimes it just be like that.

Sad

Like Happy, Sad is conditional and you can point to a cause: Your cat died. You didn’t get into the college you wanted. You somehow killed another succulent plant, and you tried so hard to get it right this time. He didn’t call you back. You were excited to see your friend and they cancelled last minute. Any and all of these could justify a shed tear. As much as we hate sadness, think about the cold world we would live in if these things didn’t cause an emotional response… If your grandmother died, you lost the job of your dreams, if you went eight years without self-harming and relapsed, these things should make you sad! It’s important to talk to others, let yourself cry if you need to, and acknowledge that you’re very upset! Sadness isn’t a sign that you’re broken more than others, it’s evident that you’re in touch with the brokenness we all have.

That being said, we sometimes make being miserable a habit. We like to fester in it. You don’t want to connect with others, you don’t want comfort or to imagine a day where you’ll feel better. I know for me at least, there’s a dark, romantic sense of justification to it, like I’m a lone misunderstood stranger who stands in the shadows as Linkin Park plays in the background. In this music video, it’s definitely raining, and I’m wearing a trench coat. To be clear, sometimes it’s helpful to stand in the rain and cry your eyes out- I’ve done it plenty of times to great results. But eventually you need to go inside and call a friend. Or if someone brings you an umbrella, let them be with you. You likely will recognize the difference between experiencing your sadness and stewing. Be mindful, and be kind to yourself and those around you; you’re doing your best.

Then we get to Depression.

Remember there are chemical components to depression. Your body is growing whilst simultaneously your brain is literally chemically imbalanced. It’s trying its hardest to figure out the right ratio for everything, but it’s often wrong. Sometimes medication works, sometimes it doesn’t, sometimes it takes months even years to find the right cocktail of antidepressants before you notice even a flicker of improvement. It’s frustrating, agonizing, crushing, and even if we can’t be happy, we just want to stop hurting so much. It’s easy to look at our depression with condemnation. The best thing I’ve learned to do, is to just be nice about the whole thing.

I try to imagine that my depression is me when I was about 5-years-old. When I first started this exercise I carried a photograph to remind me how cute I was (before I became intimidatingly gorgeous, of course). I call her “Little.” Little tries her best, she’s very sensitive, needs a nap but doesn’t want one, when she was in the bathroom they passed out the cookies so she didn’t get any, and someone mean just called her a cry-baby. And now she needs to do anything. Understandably, Little is going to have a rough time. And it’s ok. She’s going to cry a lot. It’s ok. She’s going to want to run and hide in the corner. It’s ok. She’s going to stomp her feet and call you a poopy-head. That is not ok, say you’re sorry. And she’s going to lay on the floor and scream that she can’t do it anymore.

Would you yell at this child? Would you punch her, make her bleed, or call her an idiot? I hope not. I hope you would treat her with compassion. Sit her up, remind her to take a few deep breaths, and encourage her to use her big girl words to express what’s wrong. Listen to her, insist on a nap, make sure she gets a good dinner. Remind her that it’s hard being little, that she will learn as she goes, and you will love her forever no matter what.

Afrad: Fear and Anxiety.

Fear

At it’s bare-bone basics, we know what fear is. The heart starts beating faster, we might break into a cold sweat, our brain becomes like a panicked squirrel. Fear is also situational: A car has run a red light and is careening towards you. You’re waiting for doctor’s results. Your friend texts “we need to talk.” Though unpleasant, these sorts of fears are reasonable and healthy. The one who looks at a building on fire and feels nothing, is an idiot.

Theeeeeen we get to Anxiety.

While fear is more to the point and obvious (“I am afraid of that dog which is currently barking at me”) Anxiety is a constant current of dread. Like the Jaws theme song is constantly playing in the back of your head: Du-dun….. Duuu-dun….. Daaaaaaaaa-dun….. You aren’t sure what but SOMETHING is about to go down! And if you can’t find anything immediately palpable to explain your terror, your brain will heroically come up with something! These anxiety riddled somethings almost all start with the phrase “What if?” What if… my parents divorced, died, or disowned me? What if… my friends don’t actually like me? What if… everyone knew how much I hate myself? What if… I have a panic attack and need help and that ruins the party and no one ever invites me to anything ever again because they’ll realize what a horrible burden I am on society and should be socially shunned forever, living on the edge of town and feeding on scraps of chicken nuggets thrown in the dumpster because I’ll never be able to get a job??? What if… I never date anybody? These may seem silly to some, but to others they likely hit home pretty hard. Anxiety running wild can be exhausting, even harmful, but the questions it asks can be very revealing… All those What If? questions, at their bare-bone basics, wanted to know if I truly belonged. If my parents died or my friends didn’t like me, would I be alone? If my weaknesses were exposed, would I be shunned? Do I have value on this earth even if no one asks to share their world with me? These are important questions, and rather than running away from them, we can find safe ways to lean in and explore them.

I’ll often imagine Little beside me, voicing (or more accurately screaming and crying) my concerns. Feel free to talk to yourself as if you were five:

“What if- WHAT IF EVERYTHING BAD HAPPENS?!?!?!” “Good questions. If everything bad happens, we’ll call our friend and cry on the phone about it, they will listen, then we’ll have those goldfish crackers leftover from lunch.

“But what if mommy and daddy die or get a divorce or never see me again?!”

“That’s a good question. If mommy and daddy die or get a divorce, we will be very sad. But they will always love us, and we can ask them about it if we’re still worried. Do you need a nap?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Well we’re at least going to lie down on the bed for a little bit.”

You can totally talk to yourself like this. It certainly helps me. Like depression, the best thing I’ve learned about anxiety is to just be kind about the whole thing. Obviously you would rather not have it, so there’s no need to beat yourself up as if you had chosen this.

Now Let’s Talk About the Weeds.

Out of control flowers aside, by the time I got there, the primary problem in my friends’ garden were the weeds. The pesky plants that legitimately did not belong there. We won’t do a dissection of all of them like we did with our Driving Emotions, but we will look at the poison ivy of the mind: Isolation.

This past year as I’ve worked through seminary, my priest and mentor Fr. Jack will randomly text me to remind me: Isolation is poison.

If you look up and find that you are isolated, do whatever it takes to get out of it.

There’s nothing wrong with having Alone Time- introverts especially need time to go off and unwind and process things. But Isolation is toxic.

While weeding my friends’ garden, I found out the hard way that 1. they had poison ivy, and 2. I was allergic. Red angry welts ran up both arms and burned like fire. What was worse, I knew scratching could cause infection or scarring, and if I failed to remove all the oil from my skin and clothes it could spread not only to my face, but to those around me. Doctors assured me the window of contagiousness had passed, but the rash was so bad people were afraid to touch me. Rather than deal with the upset of having people recoil at the sight of me, the first few days I stayed at home curled in bed, wishing the agonizing itch would vanish so I could sleep.

After a mere two days of being home by myself I was mentally suffering. Words like “Unclean” and “Ugly” started running through my head, with no one around to counter the voices. Feelings of loneliness mixed with anger at myself (for not noticing the poison ivy) and sadness (I had to turn down a few babysitting gigs) began to multiply, and the overall sense of Aloneness and Worthlessness began to implode and eat me alive. These thoughts latched to insecurities I’ve long since harbored like “Now my outsides are as ugly as my insides” and “If this rash somehow killed me, no one would even think to look for me for weeks." Though it was August (the hottest time of year for Pennsylvania) I ran to the thrift store, bought long sleeved shirts that breathed well. I called a friend, explained the situation and she agreed to meet with me because I was over the top lonely. The rash didn’t fade for over three weeks. If the first two days served as any indication, had I stayed home until I was “better” I’d have been in real trouble.

Without human interaction and connection, we grow mentally and emotionally weak, subject and vulnerable to whatever dark thoughts come to mind. We may manage to fight it off at first, but there’s only so much we can do on our own, because we are neurologically hardwired to be social. A big reason we find ourselves losing our mental battles when isolated is because so many of our deepest insecurities are about belonging: Am I wanted? Am I liked? If I died, how long would it take to find my body, and would anyone really care that I was gone? These are questions that desperately need the company of others. The more isolated we become, the more the voices in our mind point to the external “evidence” before us: “See, you’re alone! And you should be! You’re alone because they hate you! How could anyone be expected to love you when even you can’t!” These heartbreaking thoughts are crippling, and when voiced in the dark recesses of your mind without any competing voices of love, this hatred can seem so very true. After all, no one is there to contradict them! You may be an accomplished fighter in real life, but if you’re up against a group of ten+ people who have knives and guns and all you have is a stick? You will be overwhelmed. You may fight valiantly, you may get in a couple good punches and break a nose or two, but eventually your strength will fail you, because you’re a person with human limits, and you can only fight so many without help.

So… what to do?

You’ve got to force yourself out of isolation, regardless how painful and scary it is. The worse you feel, the harder it is to reach out, but that’s when you need it the most.

You need to march up to people you care about and ask if you could please hang out, because you’re lonely. Explicitly tell them you’re having a rough time. Write down the worthless thoughts careening in your head and ask someone you trust to read them, and to cross out and edit the thoughts that are wrong. I remember vividly a conversation with a friend when we were driving home after volunteering at an event… I had had a terribly exhausting day, I felt horribly ashamed because my Perfectionist Beast had reared it’s perfectly polished head and said I was in the way and a disgusting person for having needs at an event where I was supposed to be the one taking care of others. In the car (I was too tired to drive so he took me home) I blatantly asked my friend if the voice of shame inside me was true. He was a very trusted friend, and I knew he would answer as honestly as he could. His response was to laugh so hard he almost drove us off the road. He was thrilled he had been able to help me that evening, honored I asked him for help, and he didn’t even mind that I was currently bawling my eyes out in the car, because it meant I trusted him. He reminded me that he and his family were friends with all of me, even and especially the parts that didn’t always work right or feel very good. This conversation became a turning point in my own shame and isolation, because it wasn’t until that moment I realized just how deeply rooted this fear of being “in the way” was. And it gave me courage to ask for help another time, and another, then with a different person, etc.

Now, sometimes, someone might reject you. And that will hurt. It’s ok, try again. When someone fails to meet you in your hurt, there are usually multiple factors going on… They don’t understand, they’re blinded by whatever they’re going through, they lack the emotional maturity to help and meet you where you are. And yes, sometimes, someone might not care enough to help. That is extremely rare. But don’t give up. Scream for help until someone hears you. Someone will. Very much like removing a bandaid from a wound that needs air, the sticky parts have clung to your hair and to remove the cover will hurt. But to care for the wound, you need to take it off. You need to leave your room and knock on your parents’ door, or call a friend. To do so is terrifying. It is not an easy thing, to be real. But your emotional wounds need air, and nothing else will do. Your isolation needs loving company. Nothing else will do. Don’t give up.

Of all the reasons you may ever find yourself alone, or struggling to connect with others, the one reason that is never present, never even an option, is that you are unworthy of love.

Do you hear me, DearHeart?

If you are isolated and alone, this does not mean you are unlovable.

The most insidious belief that comes from isolation, is the condemnation we suppose comes from God. I remember talking to a friend who said “Even if god was real, he would’t want me!” And I think we all have moments like this. Many have been told since childhood of a God who judges harshly, who knows every one of your mistakes, and hates you for it. I have known far too many people who legitimately believed their actions had permanently removed them from the sphere of God’s love. I remember vividly struggling with this lie myself when I was eighteen, during my second-to-last relapse.

Earlier in the workbook I would have already explained the details of my final self-harm relapse when I was 19. A few months before I finally got the long-term help I needed, my first gap year had just begun and I was really struggling with the transition. All my friends had left town to go to college. I didn’t belong in the youth group anymore, and while I was welcome to attend college fellowship I didn’t really belong with them either. I had never been so lonely. I tried to be strong but eventually broke down but the worse I felt the more I withdrew from people and eventually I cut for the first time in over a year. I can hardly describe the crushing shame I felt. I had been a champion of self-harm recovery. People had asked me to publicly speak about this addiction, from youth groups to retreats, the church rector, Fr. Jonathan, had even asked me to speak at a New Years Banquet. Self-harmers looked to me as an example. And here I was, sitting in the middle of my bedroom, bleeding again. That week if I couldn’t find anything sharp I would compulsively bite my hands. People around me saw my bright gloves and commented on my creative color choices and eccentric style- I was a thrift store junkie so wearing full length gloves wasn’t the strangest thing I had come up with. Fr. Jonathan though had been trained (by me) how to recognize the signs of a relapse and called me out on it.

Later that week I sat across from Fr. Jonathan in his office. We joked briefly about how it always felt intimidating going to his office, like it was the headmaster and I was in trouble. We were silent for a moment as he looked at my covered hands.

“So. You’re cutting again.” It wasn’t a question.

I cried brokenly. Everything spilled out. I was so lonely and ashamed. I was certain God wouldn’t want to talk to me ever again. I had failed Him and every cutter who had ever looked up to me. I was a fraud, a fake, a failure, how could I ever talk about healing, recovery, and grace when my hands and legs were still red and raw from that morning? I had never felt so disconnected from God, and I deserved this. And what heartbreak it was, voicing my belief that the Creator of the Universe no longer loved me. I was one chest-heaving sob away from declaring I wished I had never been born. Fr. Jonathan listened for a very long time. Without giving a blow-by-blow of the hour conversation, he reminded me who God was, and therefor who I was:

“Kelsey, I’m not going to say what you did wasn’t wrong. It was very wrong, and you know it. But what’s even more true is God loves you. He already sent His son Jesus to die on the cross for you, and me, for all our sins. And He knew this was one of those moments He would need to die for. And He did it gladly. If there was no one else on the planet, He still would have clung to that cross, just for you. He doesn’t see you and think dirty, He sees you and sees love. That doesn’t mean what we do is always right, but it does mean it doesn’t have to define our story. It just explains a little. In God’s eyes you are precious. You always have been, and you always will be.”

“But it doesn’t feel like it!” I protested.

“Oh, don’t always trust your feelings.” He said matter-of-factly. “They lie sometimes.”

This might sound harsh as you read it, but it may help to know he had an English accent, which covers a multitude of painful truths. That conversation has remained in the forefront of my mind, and I hope it never fades: I am a most beloved daughter, a recipient of the never ending or wavering love and grace of God, it has nothing to do with our personality or what we bring to the table,… and sometimes our emotions lie. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think they mean too. But just as we remember facts incorrectly, or lose feeling in our legs, sometimes what we feel isn’t what’s true.

Following that conversation, rector Fr. Jonathan spoke to our youth group leader, Jack, and the head of college ministry, Johnny, and told them to keep an eye on me so I didn’t fall beneath the cracks. They were able to help connect me to people who became friends, and as time went on the loneliness was replaced with community. Six months later I would relapse again, my final time, but I had people in my corner who I was able to immediately go to, and it started when I went to Fr. Jonathan for help.

The greatest, most daring thing we can do in the face of isolation, is ask for help. We all experience shame, loneliness, and emotions so nasty feeling we want to die. No one likes to talk about or admit it. The longer we keep quiet, the stronger shame has a hold on us. But we HAVE to talk about it. I have found some of my most painful acts of bravery and greatest moments of healing were when I reached out to a friend and voiced my shame to them. And you can do this with your friends, your parents, your siblings, teachers, people you trust.

These last few pages will be dedicated to creative ways you can process and express your emotions.

I’m sure you’ve already heard the usual: Call someone on the phone, see a counselor, journal, just sit down and talk to someone. By the time this book is published, I will have paged dedicated entirely to these things. But let’s try and add an element of fun to this, shall we?

Activities

Emotion Wheel

The friend who drove me home, I work with him part-time. Whenever we have a meeting with three or more people, we’ll pass around the Wheel of Emotions I showed you, and everyone will share and explain their top three words. This is a way we connect and let each other know how we’re doing. That could be a fun, non-threatening activity you do with your friends so you can become more comfortable sharing. It also make for a good journal prompt.

Prayer Request Groups

I have a group of friends who I meet with roughly every other month. We see each other at church and Bible study, but we make a point to come together to talk. At some point in the evening we set aside time where we will share our most pressing prayer requests, expose our deepest shames, and it is explicitly stated that we expect one or more of us to cry. With the mutual understanding that a lack of tears equals a failed share-and-prayer, we have the utmost freedom to get real. Over time, you could form a group of friends who meet every few weeks to bake cookies for class or hang out at the mall, and voice a desire for there to be a time of intentional emotional intimacy where you and others can voice unpleasant emotions and pray for each other. I can guarantee most if not all invited will jump at this, because they’re starving too.

Letter

Over the years I’ve acquired several pen-pals. My longest pen-pal is an old high school friend, and we started over 12 years ago. The youngest is a girl just about your age, who I used to babysit in college. (Note to self: I owe Phoebe a letter as soon as finals are over.) We’ll write about school, stories she’s writing, but sometimes I’ll receive a letter where she vents her struggles with loneliness, confusion and frustration as she gets older, even the death of a classmate. If you can’t meet with anyone in person right away, you could write a letter to someone. An out of town aunt, Godparents, cousin, a youth group leader you’re going to see Friday but it’s currently Monday… Grandparents LOVE receiving letters! Pour your heart into the paper, don’t hold anything back. At worst you won’t get a response but you’ve successfully expressed yourself, at best, you’ll get a letter back and you have a pen-pal!

Internal Family Systems Theory

I’ve briefly mentioned Pixar’s Inside Out. The basic premise of Joy, Sadness, Anger, Disgust, and Fear, having a conversation in your head is a psychological technique called Internal Family Systems Theory, and I use it all the time. I don’t have Joy, Sadness, and the gang, but I have Left Brain (cares about logical things and being smart) and Right Brain (emotions, instant gratification). Little talks about depression and anxiety and advocates for social interaction. Eros, my emotional protector, has hard opinions on everything and feels it’s her job to get people to shape up. There are other characters like Surplus Mom, Surplus Brother, and Guardian Friend, who represent what I believe it means to be a woman, a member of my family, and a friend. There about a dozen characters and it understandably gets pretty loud… to get them out of your head and onto paper can be helpful, enlightening… even funny! Here’s a short snippet from one of my “Table Sessions:”

Kelsey: *Pounds mallet on table.* Everyone, come to order! A friend asked a question and I would like everyones take on it: Are we predominantly a sad person, or an angry person?

Lefty: We’ve been on medication for depression in the past, which is typically a “sad” thing.

Eros: *Sarcastically* Our resident grad student, ladies and gentlemen.

Lefty *Explodes instantly*: I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING FOR YOUR OPINION!

Eros: SAYS MISS 2.8 WHO PUT US ON SCHOLASTIC PROBATION SIX YEARS AGO?!

Lefty: THAT WAS ONE SEMESTER! WE AGREED TO NEVER MENTION THAT AGAIN!

Eros: YOU GOT US REMOVED FROM THE DEANS LIST! WHY SHOULD WE LISTEN TO ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY?!

Lefty: OH YOU WANNA PLAY THAT GAME? LET’S PLAY THAT GAME! *Whips out calendars. Still screaming:* If you wanna start a game of who-effed-what-up then I will bulldoze you’re unhelpful, inefficient butt into next week!!!

Eros: *Also still screaming, slams the journals:* Bring it on!!!

*All 12 characters and guests start yelling and fighting. Linkin Park plays overhead very loudly.*

Righty *to Kelsey*: So “Angry,” huh?

Kelsey: It would appear to be the case.

RIGHTY: Soooo was there a point to- *A water jug is thrown across the table, drenching half the cast who scream and hiss like feral cats.* WHO THE F*** DID THAT?! *Righty leaps across the table to strangle someone. Kelsey sighs and pushes button inside her chair marked “Push in case of mutiny.” The sprinkler system lowers threateningly. Kelsey whistles loudly, and clearly holds her hand over the button. Characters freeze mid-punch, pie throw, choke-hold, etc.*

Kelsey: We are going to sit down and calmly talk about what makes us angry. If anyone does any name calling or throws another pie *glares pointedly at Righty, Surplus Mom, and Little, who all claim credit* they will sit in the corner until they can behave. Everyone, please take a seat.

Kelsey: … To begin with. Surplus Mom, What are you angry about?

Surplus Mom: That you’re fat.

Kelsey: No, we’ve been losing weight and you’re still angry. Why are you really mad?

Surplus Mom: … I’m angry that despite how much we want to lose weight, at any given day we’ll decide we want coffee more, or pasta or... or just not eat what we need to eat. I’m angry we don’t have the self-control I wish we had. And... I’m worried that when we reach our weight goal, I still won’t be satisfied with how we look. *General murmur of agreement.*

LEFTY: I... I’m really angry we’re still struggling with school. I’m the smart one, and I struggle with wrapping my head around and maintaining the information and making sense of it. And when we get stressed, our old speech impediment comes back, and I feel stupid. I’m angry that the task of keeping things in order and balanced and not being ignorant is my responsibility but I can’t do it. I just let everyone down. And I’m angry I can see that, but can’t fix it. . .

Here we can see my thoughts getting out of control, using imagination to call them to order, and then taking time so each part of me feels heard. It’s important to not take the voices too personally. (Most) of them are just trying to help… they’re just not always good at it.

* ~*~*~*~*~*~*

Well my lovelies, this blog post is getting pretty long, and it’s time to call it a day.

Next year, I and the others who dragged over 60 biodegradable bags up a falling hill will plant crocuses. Lorna is planning a vegetable garden, I want roses, Andrew is scheming ways to install a tree swing, and Zoe and James are still just stunned they have a greenhouse. A place once feared, that caused its owners to stoop in defeat, now inspires creativity as we freely walk in the space, deciding where to put a bench so we can sit and enjoy our work. We’re always going to need to walk down the brick pathway Lorna and I have relaid and do some weeding. Sometimes we’ll be too busy and there will be some quick sprouting buggers that will require some extra time later, and we will always need to look out for poison ivy. But this jungle is now a garden and one of our favorite places to be. If we continue to love and care for it, the summer of 2019 will always be a part of the history, but it will no longer define the space.

This can be the same for the garden that is your mind. The Driving Emotions long feared and out of control, or the isolation, that can be part of your story, but the more you lean into God and let Him tend them, the less these struggles will define and will merely explain a little of your epic backstory. Call out to God. Allow Him to see the things we find the most shameful and ugly. He is always willing to enter our jungle and begin the work needed to create a beautiful garden.

When Andrew showed me the yard for the first time, I literally laughed aloud and scurried down the hill so quickly I toppled and landed on a pile of weeds, because I was so excited to begin. Did I see a disaster? Obviously. But I was also excited to start, because of my love for Zoe and James. It is the same with God and our emotions. He loves emotions. He loves the people experiencing them. He can’t wait to be welcomed into the space to start.

God doesn’t see you and think dirty, He sees you and sees love.

In God’s eyes you are precious. You always have been, and you always will be.

And remember my dear, dear, Lilies…

You are beautiful, You are Loved

You are Cherished, You are His

You are made in the Image of God,

And that’s always a special thing

You are made by the King of this earth,

Which means that you always have worth.

You are beautiful, You are Loved

You are Cherished, You are His

I pray for your hearts constantly.

With joy and love,

Kelsey