Mental Illness in the News

Image“Your illness is not your identity, your chemistry is not your character” Pastor Rick Warren stated during his first public sermon since his son took his own life after a long battle with depression. The newscaster stated that Pastor Warren is now working to remove the negative stigma of mental illness and instructed his parish not to be ashamed of that over which they have no control. 

Unfortunately mental illness is sometimes seen as a weakness and a character flaw or a figment of the imagination. Some who suffer are ashamed to seek counseling, or medical attention and have little to no support. In other situations help is sought; treatment prescribed, prayers are lifted, support is given and the battle is still lost.

Mental Illness is no different than cancer, drug addiction, heart disease, diabetes or any debilitating disease. Some cases are more serious than others, some are realized too late, some go untreated and some sufferers will succumb.  Hopefully the loss of Matthew Warren’s precious life will be a catalyst for change. 

In the meantime, continue to lift up the Warren family in prayer as they grieve and heal. 

Metacognition: How does my brain work? The Ramble of a Disorganized Process

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I am thinking about thinking. There is so much going on in my life right now, and I’m having a hard time categorizing it all, sorting it, storing it, analyzing it, expressing it……I read somewhere today that depression, exhaustion and anxiety are not things to be ashamed of, but a sign of taking on too much for too long. All of us creative folk have our own brand of “crazy” I suppose, but how do you know when you have taken on “too much”?

As some close family members age, my kids grow older, my body changes, my thoughts morph. I find pleasure in the strangest things: warm dogs, completed homework projects, clean kitchens, clean kids. 

Where will life take me? I visited my 88 year old grandmother today, always a treat. Not only is she a delightful lady but she has so many wonderful stories about her life. As she reaches the end of it I wonder what she thinks about? Does she still dream and plan? 

Will I always have this mental drive that feels like a hamster on a treadmill that never takes a break? Will I ever be able to just sit and look at a sunset without feeling driven to DO something about it? Write about it? Draw it? Research it? 

What is it like to sit. Quiet. With no thought. Even when I try not to think, I think about not thinking. Then the flood gates open: should we relocate? How much farther should I take my education? Should I blog or write for suite? Should I journal? Should I crochet? Maybe I’ll just do some laundry. 

The floor, I could always sweep the floor.

Why does this mental ping pong game continue for hours upon end? If I could see inside my brain I imagine it would like a party, with synapses and dendrites doing the hokey pokey, singing karaoke, learning the rumba, playing scrabble, scramble and words with friends and eating hot wings dipped in ranch. Forever.