Stained Glass Masquerade

Is there anyone that fails?

Is there anyone that falls?

Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small?*

Yesterday was a hard day for me. Not many people know this (until now, anyway!), but a couple of years ago I was diagnosed with a mild mood disorder. It's not pervasive enough that I've sought relief with medication, but it's there. I am aware of it and can compensate most of the time. Yesterday wasn't one of those times. Yesterday several of my triggers came into play at the same time. Schedule changes can be triggers for those with mood disorders and my schedule had been disrupted somewhat by a quick road trip with my daughter. We'd returned late the night before and I was tired from that. My husband, being the sweet guy he is, volunteered to take my other daughter to school and let me catch up on sleep (which was another step away from my normal schedule). I also had some emotional stress – I'd had a counseling session several days ago which had left me feeling rather frustrated with myself. To top it all off, I had some biochemical/hormonal fluctuations going on. Strangely enough, I don't get the typical grouchy PMS. But at a point in my cycle where most women are feeling great, I can sink into a few days of mild depression. Yesterday was that day... and the depression was heightened by the frustration and introspection caused by last week's counseling session.  

It was bad. Really bad. Honestly, it was one of the worst depressive episodes I've had in quite awhile. I knew I was in trouble when, after sleeping in way past my normal rising time, I still couldn't bring myself to leave the quiet isolation of my bedroom. Seriously, it was after noon before I managed to make myself crack open the bedroom door and venture out. That's not me. I do better with mornings than I do late nights. I wasn't tired. I just didn't want to face anyone.  I wanted to curl up and disappear inside myself – dead to the world and numbing myself with sleep.

As miserable as I was, though, the last thing I wanted to do was to admit it to anyone.

'Cause when I take a look around

Everybody seems so strong

I know they'll soon discover

That I don't belong

So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay

If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too

So with a painted grin, I play the part again

So everyone will see me the way that I see them*

Truth is, I wanted to hide – even from my husband who knows and understands the mood disorder I struggle with... the husband who was there in the counseling session last week to see and understand the frustration I was feeling from that. The man has never shown anything but love and support in those times. And yet... I still desperately wanted to hide, even from him. I wanted to pretend everything was okay:  I'm "normal" (whatever that is); I've got it all under control....

Are we happy plastic people

Under shiny plastic steeples

With walls around our weakness

And smiles to hide our pain?*

I knew I should be honest with my husband. I knew I should let him know so he could at least be praying for me. But... I just couldn't seem to do it.

Is there anyone who's been there

Are there any hands to raise

Am I the only one who's traded in

the altar for a stage?*

I managed to pull myself together enough to pick up my daughter from school, but I skipped the trip to the grocery I should have made on the way home. I just didn't have the energy for it. Once home, I sat in front of the TV with my daughters, numbing my mind and snacking on potato chips and chocolate. Not the best idea for a diabetic... but the overwhelming depression overrode my usual caution and restraint. Eventually, I could no longer ignore dinner preparations. So... still concealing the problem from my family, I made up (i.e. invented) a new casserole from the few ingredients I had on hand. For all anyone knew it was planned that way in advance. I never said a word about making it up as I went, and they enjoyed the new dish.

The performance is convincing

And we know every line by heart

Only when no one is watching

Can we really fall apart*

We sat in front of the TV after dinner, allowing me to continue in my hiding. I knew, though, that the time of disclosure was coming. Once we are snuggled into bed each night, my husband and I spend time talking and have a nightly devotion. I knew that once we were behind those closed doors, I really did need to admit to him what was going on.  

But would it set me free

If I dared to let you see

The truth behind the person

That you imagine me to be?

Would your arms be open

Or would you walk away

Would the love of Jesus

Be enough to make you stay?*

In truth, I don't need to ask those questions when I'm considering disclosing to my husband. I'm not sure why it's still so hard to admit to him that I'm struggling when I know I will only receive love and support. It's amazing how overwhelming the desire is to hide – even from those we know will love and support us. Once we were alone, though, I swallowed hard and admitted to my husband that I was fighting depression. Then, in an effort to be even more honest, I corrected myself: "No, actually I'm not fighting it. I'm sinking into it." Even at that I still had trouble bringing voice to just how deeply I was struggling. I felt his arms tighten around me, and his breath on the top of my head as he began praying for me. I had known that would be the outcome... so why did I find it so hard to do? Why is it so incredibly hard for us to be real?

Are we happy plastic people

Under shiny plastic steeples

With walls around our weakness

And smiles to hide our pain?

But if the invitation's open

To every heart that has been broken

Maybe then we close the curtain on our stained glass masquerade*

And I remembered... just the day before I'd been listening to the song "Stained Glass Masquerade" and had felt frustrated (once again) by the lack of authenticity in our churches. Our churches should be a place of where we can be real and find healing and support. Instead, all too frequently, they are a place where we paint on the face and answer, "Oh, my week has been fine.  How about yours?" Our shared prayer requests are filled with requests for our co-worker's daughter, neighbors, extended family members...  but where are the pleas for our own broken hearts? I've seen friends leave the church because they were tired of playing the game; wearing the face; feeling so alone... so isolated... so different than all the other "happy plastic people" they saw there. We've traded the altar for a stage and people are tired of the performance.  I'm tired of the performance.

But if the invitation's open

To every heart that has been broken

Maybe then we close the curtain on our stained glass masquerade*

I constantly question what we can do to help bring about that change... to extend the invitation. I ask the question even as I fight it myself... even in the comfort and safety of my husband's arms. It is SO STINKING HARD!  But I can only think of one way: one person at a time... starting with me.

Is there anyone that fails?

Is there anyone that falls?

Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small?*

Hi, I'm Jenn.  I sometimes struggle with depression. And yesterday was a hard day... a really hard day....

-jenn

*"Stained Glass Masquerade" by Casting Crowns
Listen here.