Christians and Mental Health

Why is attitude so important?

Because, as Viktor Frankl taught, it is the one and only thing that can never be taken from us.

What about your health? Maybe.
What about your family? Maybe.
What about your reputation? Maybe
What about your money? Who the heck knows.

Viktor Frankl was an Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor best known for creating logotherapy, a form of existential psychoanalysis that prioritizes finding meaning in life. Frankl wrote the book, “Man’s Search for Meaning,” in which he describes his experiences in N**i concentration camps. Frankl endured unfathomable suffering in the camps, which included being the only survivor in his family to emerge from the war. If there’s any person whose perspective on life is worth listening to, it’s tough to find someone more credible than Frankl.

So I take Frankl seriously when he says, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

We can control almost nothing of what happens to us in life. We need to be honest about that. We don’t choose the circumstances we’re born into. We don’t choose our bodies. We don’t choose how the people around us behave. There is actually very little under our control.

Our attitude, however, is ours.

And ours alone.

What will yours be today?

In 2021, Nelson Books published my book, “Depression, Anxiety, and Other Things We Don’t Want to Talk About.” It had long been a dream of mine to publish a book with one of the largest publishers in the world.

And then it happened.

I truly couldn’t believe it. We don’t get to experience every dream or goal we have in life and so I really try to live into my gratitude when it happens.

The book came out during COVID which meant the publicity process was mostly me doing Zoom interview from my office or bedroom, which wasn’t exactly what I had long imagined. Regardless, the message I wanted to spread about the ubiquity of mental illness and our collective need to do more to care for our mental health —especially in faith communities—made it out into the world in a book I was proud of and readers from all over the world wrote to me about the impact my words had on their lives.

Grateful. I was and am grateful.

As many of you know, I don’t only work with those who suffer in their minds, I too have suffered. Depression and anxiety have been my bedfellows for many years and while I have moved through and beyond these conditions in powerful ways, there are still times they rise from the deep, reminding me that even though I am far healthier than I was, I am never quite fully healed. Unpacking that little doozy is beyond the scope of this post. But if you also suffer, you know what I mean. It’s a daily journey.

What I want to say today, during Mental Health Awareness Month, is that I’m grateful my book hit number one in the Mood Disorders category on Amazon yesterday. This, of course, makes me proud of the work but even more grateful the resource I worked hard to create is still making its way into the hands and hearts of folks who need it.

If you’re one of those people who read the book, thank you.

And if you’re a person who didn’t know the book existed, check it out.

Or, if you know someone who might need a book like this, please share it with them.

I am grateful for you all.

I am grateful for the journey.

I am grateful.

I was reminded yesterday of an old parable I adore. If you’re not familiar with parables, I think of them as psychoactive drugs that enter my system and alter my state of mind and perception. When I’m patient with a parable, I never emerge from the experience seeing the world quite as I did before.

They’re a trip. Literally.

Here’s one:

A Jewish Rabbi is walking by the sea when he hears a voice from up above him. The Rabbi looks up to see a Roman Centurion staring down at him from the edge of a bluff. “Who are you?” the Centurion says. “And what are you doing here?”

Stunned, the Rabbi says, “What did you say?”

The Centurion cranks up the volume of his already booming voice. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

The Rabbi walks toward the Centurion and says, “How much does Rome pay you?”

The Centurion tells him the amount.

The Rabbi says, “I’ll pay you twice that amount if you come to my house every morning and ask me those two same questions.”

Who are you?

And what are you doing here?

The mornings are psychologically thin spaces where our hearts and minds are more closely connected to the deep longings of our soul. Just upon waking can be a powerful time for setting the orientation to whatever posture we’d like to have for the day. Whenever I am working with a new client, I often ask, “What do you do first in the morning? Check your phone? Or check your phone while you’re peeing?”

Almost everyone smiles, because we all know how easy it is to squander the thin space of the morning by diving into whatever nonsense the world has for us on the phone. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes we like what we see. The market is up. Our team won the game. The sun plans to shine all afternoon. Others times it’s awful and a wave of anxiety leaps off the phone and into our chest, which suddenly feels tight.

Going to the phone first automatically puts you in a reactive state. You’re going to see something that you’ll then react to. You won’t have a choice about it. It’s a subtle but significant way we give our psychological power away.

Here is one way to take it back. Upon waking, acknowledge to yourself that you are in the magical land of transition between the unconscious and conscious. This is where your soul is most free to guide you. This is a special time that will not repeat itself until the following morning. You only get one shot. Sit with yourself for a few minutes in silence and listen for any messages from the deep. What does your soul have for you? What is God trying to get your attention around? What kind of person would you like to be today?

In other words, Who are you? And what are you doing here?

The world will be waiting for you. Why not spend some time with yourself first? That way, when you face whatever is out there, you’ll be a little more certain about who you are and what you are doing.

Happy Monday.

Peace and Love.

This is my current working definition of the soul. Soul work, which I call circle work, because it goes on forever, is the work that allows the depth and nuance of our soul to come forth and materialize in our life. As we come to know our soul, our soul is allowed to grow into what it has always longed to become. As this process occurs, our lives are transformed.

Do you have a process for doing this? Are you looking for one? In January I’m starting a very small (in person) psycho-spiritual group called Reality Vibes Only. The group is for people who want to be radically honest with themselves in an effort to let their soul live and become the person they’ve always hoped they could be. The group will explore insights from the psychological sciences as well as the wisdom found in ancient spiritual practices. If interested, DM or email me at [email protected].

These are Rumi’s words and I was reminded of them early this morning while running on dark and quiet streets. I have always loved to run but for most of my adult life I only ran in the mornings when I absolutely had to. I did it, but I never enjoyed it. I couldn’t even imagine enjoying it. But then life happens and we age and we change. Which I find lovely. And in the change there are often surprises. A surprise for me as been the joy of a quiet and early run. A place to be quiet and hear so very much.

Shame dies when we tell our stories in safe places and with safe people. It’s almost unfathomable how powerful radical ownership of our life can be. If there is no part of ourselves, or detail to our story, that we cannot allow to exist, then there is no part that can hold us back from becoming who we want to be in this world.

And yet, so many of us remain stuck where we are because we are so deeply ashamed or afraid of the dark corners of our lives.

But if shame dies, and it does, when stories are told in safe places and with safe people, then we have everything to gain by taking ownership of our story.

If this seems daunting to you, remember that you can be your own safe person to whom you tell your story.

You don’t have to wait to find a group of people who will offer you safety. You can begin in this very moment by being honest with yourself, and showing yourself the love, compassion, and acceptance you crave from others. In doing this, you will have already begun the journey to the ownership required to write the part of your story that comes next.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I think we create our own hells by setting unrealistic expectations. We must forever foster hope in our lives while simultaneously recognizing hope is not a strategy. When it comes to setting expectations, gather the appropriate evidence from your past and bravely factor it into your expectations for the future. This can be kind of a buzz kill at the moment, but it reaps tremendous dividends.

If you’re feeling down, ask yourself where there are opportunities in your life to close the gap between what you expect to happen and what actually happens. Are there patterns you’re ignoring? Are you consistently choosing to embrace hope when you should be building a strategy? If so, dig into those moments and do the hard work of getting your expectations and reality into greater alignment.

Unless you birthed them or married them, you don’t owe them. And even if you birthed them or married them, you still owe yourself the freedom to become yourself. Your. Full. Self.

Every failure, even those we would describe as horrors, can be growth experiences if we choose to create meaning out of the suffering. We are never powerless, unless we choose to see ourselves that way. In the midst of adversity we can choose to understand ourselves as a traveler on a great journey encountering obstacles, not because we are unworthy, but precisely because we are in the process of showing ourselves just how worthy we truly are. And trust me, you are worthy.

We can always tell ourselves a better story. Better stories often begin with better questions.

I was thinking recently about a past version of myself. Not the past version, but one of them—for there are many. Just as there are many versions of you.

In this instance, the memories that came to my mind were painful — days filled with dread and confusion. As such, I’ve felt shame for many years about this particular version of myself.

In this moment recently, however, when the memories came forth, I felt no judgment, anger, or regret for who that person was and what he did. My heart, instead, offered him only compassion.

I had no desire to scold him or go back in time to convince him to feel or do anything other than what occurred. I simply wanted to hug him, love him, and whisper in his ear that all would be well. It was a holy moment.

Did I mention this happened while standing in line at a water park? Amazing what’s possible when an iPhone is hidden away in a locker!

The moment was holy because I offered myself love in a place where I previously offered so much judgment.

And so it was that I was giving thanks for this moment that very evening when I read the following poem by Emory Hall:

make peace

with all the women

you once were.

_____

lay flowers

at their feet.

_____

offer them incense

and honey

and forgiveness.

_____

honor them

and give them

your silence.

_____

listen.

_____

bless them

and let them be.

_____

for they are the bones

of the temple

you sit in now.

_____

for they are

the rivers

of wisdom

leading you

toward the sea.

______

// i have been a thousand different women.

Discovering this poem on the same day I found love for myself where it’s long been difficult to do so can easily be called a coincidence. I prefer a more divine narrative. I believe the poem was God’s way of telling me to continue embracing my “shameful” selves with love.

We have all been so many people in our lifetimes. May today be a day you offer the versions of yourself you’re not proud of a little grace and mercy. And may you stay present to the version of yourself who’s reading these words.

He/She needs your love.

*****

Interested in attending my webinar on resilience this Thursday at 12 CST? You can register here:

Welcome! You are invited to join a webinar: Making Hope Actionable: Practicing Resilience . After registering, you will receive a confirmation email about joining the webinar. This webinar will equip attendees with a deeper understanding of resilience and practical methods for growing this innate human ability in their lives.

A few months ago I spoke on the topic of resilience at a conference in San Antonio for lawyers who identify as being in some form of recovery.

When people hear the word recovery they often think of those who self-identify as alcoholics but I use the term in a much broader sense. For me, a person is in recovery when they accept the habits and patterns of their life no longer work for them and thus intentionally live into a new kind of life, one that prioritizes their well-being above and beyond the typical concerns most of us are obsessed with: reputation, wealth, and power—to name only a few.

The time in San Antonio was invigorating, as it always is when I’m fortunate enough to be with folks who are committed to being honest with themselves and vulnerable with others. To be with people who are unafraid to speak their suffering out loud and name the ways and practices and truths they have discovered that have allowed them to keep on living is a magnificent gift.

We all suffer and in so many different ways. Many succumb to their suffering. Many do not. Sometimes, the only difference is whether or not we get to brush shoulders with a person who reminds us that recovery is ALWAYS possible.

Recently, as I drove to work I saw the sticker at the bottom of this post on the car in front of me.

May it be for you as it was for me: a reminder that, yes we all suffer, and yes we can all recover. The choice is entirely ours to make. I hope today is a day you choose not just life but one also of recovery. Which is simply another word for abundance.

In my work as a priest and a therapist I have heard many people lament the absence of God’s voice in their lives. Given these experiences and my own frustration with God’s immense vocal absence, I’d venture to guess that most—if not all people—have felt this way.

We ask for direction in life. We plead for medical miracles. We cry out in anguish for the overwhelming suffering and endless inequities of this world.

And what comes back is silence.

In the Bible, Jesus himself says that if we knock the door will be opened and if we seek we’ll find what we’re looking for. And yet, in the spiritual life, it often feels like just the opposite is true. Our knocking receives no answer and our seeking finds no treasure.

And so we burnout in our quests for meaning and return to whatever distracts us from the longings of our soul.

But what if it’s in the silence—in God’s apparent failure to reply—that the answers to our soul’s deepest longings and confusions are to be found?

The longer I walk my spiritual path, the more I believe this to be true.

In the Hebrew Bible there is a story about a great prophet who is told to stand on the side of a mountain and wait because God is about to pass by. The prophet is fearful so he hides in a cave instead. A great wind rushes by, but God is not in the wind. Then a terrible earthquake erupts, but God is not in the earthquake. A fire breaks out, but God is not in the flames.

When the chaos ends, the prophet comes creeping out of his cave. Finally, when there is nothing but silence, God speaks.

I take this to mean God’s first language is silence.

Which, of course, is not ours.

But maybe silence should become our second language? After all, our world is so noisy, Lord knows we could use some. In the age of information, it’s not more voices we need, but ears.

Years ago, when I was a school teacher I had only one trick for getting rowdy teenagers to quiet down and listen when they felt chatty.

It wasn’t by raising my voice.

The secret was to stop talking altogether. If I stopped and stood still, the class would fall quiet. Sometimes it took a long while, but it always worked. Once we embraced the silence, our dialogue could begin. Teacher could speak. Student could listen. Conversation would bloom.

I don’t know what you need from God. I don’t know if you believe in God. I don’t know how you pray or whether or not you think prayer a worthwhile practice. What I know is the noise of this world makes it hard for me to hear from my soul. What I also know is the quieter I get, the more I seem to hear. And the more I hear, the more peaceful and powerful I feel.

And that is something I very much enjoy.

For many of my friends, the fall signals the start of a slow descent into winter—a time when life becomes darker. As summer ends and the frenzy of fall begins, so does the dread and fear.

For myself, the fall is the closest to a fresh start I experience all year long. August still excites my soul as it did when I was a boy and there were new classmates and teachers to meet in the enchanted forest of academic adventure. And so today I feel a breath of excitement I cannot deny.

And yet, these are not easy days in which to find our living. Be it financial, political, or ecological, one only needs to glance at the news to find a crisis eager to attract an anxious mind.

To whom or what shall we turn as the leaves prepare to do their own turning?

I recently turned back to Victor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search for Meaning, and was struck by his argument that what killed many of his friends in the N**i concentration camps was not disease or malnutrition but rather a loss of hope.

One could not control the insane cruelty of the N**i’s but one could choose to hold out hope in one’s mind. As Frankl famously wrote, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Choosing our own way, especially when life grows dark, is a powerful antidote to dread and fear. When we choose our attitude we remind ourselves that so long as we have air in our lungs we can make today different than yesterday. And if today can be different then tomorrow can be as well.

The power of hope is incalculable. And yet, hope is not a strategy. Thus, the question becomes: How do we engender hope when life gets dark?

One way is to practice resilience.

We are all naturally resilient but only those of us who practice resilience are able to actually be resilient when it matters most. In other words, resilience is how we make hope actionable in our lives.

If this idea interests you, I’ll be giving a one hour webinar on resilience on September 7th at 12 PM CST. You can register at link below.

I don’t know what manner of darkness threatens to dampen your hope, but I know that what was true for Frankl is true for us: If we are still here, we can learn to hope. And if we can hope, we can live. And not just live, but live very, very well.

I hope to see you next month on the 7th.

Welcome! You are invited to join a webinar: Making Hope Actionable: Practicing Resilience . After registering, you will receive a confirmation email about joining the webinar. This webinar will equip attendees with a deeper understanding of resilience and practical methods for growing this innate human ability in their lives.

Do people change?

I get asked this a lot.
This is my most honest answer:

Yes, all people can change but few do.

Why?

I can’t say for sure but I think it’s because change requires sustained effort.

What kind of sustained effort?

The laborious work of learning to love oneself. To love ourselves—our whole selves—is the supreme task of our life.

Why?

Because if you can love yourself then you become free to change yourself. Becuse we can always care for those we love. We’ll meet their needs. We’ll be tender with their wounds. We’ll lift them up when their down.

Do you want to change?

Do whatever you have to do in order to fully accept and love yourself. And then partner with yourself in the care of your soul and watch as your life transforms.

I find that hunting for the beauty in every person, even those I’m apt to dislike, makes life more enjoyable, deepens my affection for those I love, and reveals how misguided my hatred is.

If you’re struggling today and feel exhausted by your own needs and desires and irritations, pivot and get outside yourself. Look for ways you can come alongside another human and allow your service to them to heal your own soul.

What stories from your past—your break up, your business failure, your illness—are you letting define your present identity? There is nothing we can do to change what happened to us. But we have all the power when it comes to choosing how we talk to ourselves about it. You are not your past. You are whatever you decide you’d like to be. Choose wisely. Choose powerfully. Chooose freely.

Sometimes you find yourself in a waiting room and you just know you’re gonna be all right. Live in the moment. Live what you love. Boy, you got that right.

You will only trullybbe held accountable for your actions by one person: your future self. We lie to ourselves all the time by convincing ourselves we must do this or that to please this or that person. But the truth is that when you get a little farther down the line, you’ll look in the mirror and either have regret for what you have done (or haven’t done) or you will be grateful for the person you were because of the actions you took. The only thing we actually possess in this life is our behavior. This is scary but also enormously empowering. Right now. Today. You have the power to take responsibility for your life and act in such a way that the future version of yourself will have no choice but to rejoice for the decisions you made.

Conflicted about a decision? Imagine yourself in one year from now. What can you do today that the future version of yourself will examine your actions and say, “Thank you.”

Then go be about that.

“Grief isn’t a problem to be solved; it’s an experience to be carried.” -Megan Divine

In my experience as both a priest and a therapist, I’ve discovered that our culture tends to rush those who grieve the loss of their beloved. Folks are told to take a few days, be with family, tend to the funeral, and then — when they're feeling better—return to the responsibilities of their lives. As soon as possible. As if burying a child is a task anyone ever actually returns from.

We don’t move on when our beloved dies. We don’t get over it. We don’t put it away. We don’t start over. We, as Megan Devine says, carry it with us. Forever.

How we carry it is what matters most. Because how we carry it will determine its weight.

If we rush it, the grief doesn’t metabolise and it remains as heavy as it was on the day it arrived. Too much for a lifetime.

If we deny it, the grief metastasizes, and threatens to swallow us whole.

If we, instead, choose to lovingly integrate into our lives, recognizing that while we don’t want it, we now have it and it’s never going away, then we have the chance to carry it in such a way that it transforms into an expression of love. For that is what grief for our beloved truly is: love.

If you’re grieving today, and you are feeling hurried, please grant yourself permission to slow down. If you’re grieving and you’re afraid to process it, please open up and talk to someone. If you’re grieving and it all feels so awful and lonely, remember that your pain is evidence that love resides in your heart. So ask that love to show you the way.

A quick note on the importance of humility as it relates to diagnosing mental health conditions. Until 1972 the DSM--the handbook most widely employed by mental health practitioners in the US -- stated that being gay was a mental illness. Not only that, in 1972, it was also believed that children could not suffer from depression.

So, yeah.

This was not that long ago. In many ways the entire field of modern psychiatric diagnosis is still in its infancy. What else could we be wrong about? All that to say, be gentle with anyone who has received a diagnosis or is having difficulty accepting that a diagnosis might apply to them. There are still so many unanswered questions.

I’m grateful for those who work in this field and even more so for the patients who bravely endeavor to understand what their mental health challenges mean for their lives and their identity. Either way, diagnosis should never have the last word. Nobody is bipolar. Some people have bipolar. Nobody is depression. Some folks simply have depression. Our language matters, especially since we're all still trying to figure out what our language means.

Walk slowly today with the people in your lives, ever aware there are questions and battles raging in a mind you do not have access to.

Life is full of varied circumstances. Humans are full of resourceful responses. We are never determined by what happens to us—only the choices that we make.

A great barrier to growth is the assumption that who you were yesterday is who you are today.

Today is the day. 988. Put it in the brain like 911. Dial it for any mental health crisis. There will be no busy signal. No hold. Whoever calls will be connected with a trained therapist. You’re not alone.

It’s not difficult, however, for the sake of being difficult. It’s difficult because if achieved, it opens up entirely new worlds for you to live in. Isn’t that a lovely thought? Love yourself and watch what happens next.

I have always thought Nietzsche was correct about the writer’s job being to look into the abyss and then report back what he sees.

I imagined the writer on a journey discovering some piece of earth that is foreign to him.
A diver underwater.
A body floating in space.
A silent observer of sacred practice.

The writer traveled outward for the sake of discovery.

I still believe this is the writer’s job.

But I was wrong about the gaze and travel of the writer
It ought not be pointed outward,
but inward

For who wants to read someone who may know other people and things but does not yet know himself?

Days are overrated. Weeks are overrated. Months are overrated. Years are overrated. Decades are overrated.

What is underrated are moments.

None of us will remember any given day, perfectly, from beginning to end. Nor can we remember any week from beginning to end. What we have when we remember our lives -- when we attempt to experience what has happened -- we experience and remember the moments.

So what we have are moments. The more deeply we enter into each moment we have, the more likely we will be able to recall those moments when we wish to experience them once more.

There's great power in the idea of embracing whatever moment we're in.

So let’s live here. After all, it’s really the only place we can live. And it's the only way we increase the odds of being able to retrieve the moments that have come prior, which we reveled in.

We spend so much of our time ruminating about the past and worried about the future. Doing so diminishes our ability to be in the here and the now.

Forget the days, forget the weeks, forget the months, forget the years, forget the decades, forget huge swaths of time in order to come back to right where you are, which is here. Taste it, smell it, feel it, be honest about it. Whatever it is, comfortable or uncomfortable, it is what it is. It's the moment that you're having, and the more you can accept it, the more you'll be able to accept everything that has come, is coming now, and will come in the future.