My love for reading was born when I was just a kid. Nancy
Drew, The Babysitter’s Club, Sweet Valley High … oh, I loved them all. Summers
in the library? There was no better place to spend those long, hot days. That
then led to my first paid job, of course, at the public library.
There’s nothing like getting into a good book, no matter how
old you are. You enter into the scenes, you fall in love with the characters. The
plot takes a twist and your heart beats faster, your palms break a sweat. Or – you
can admit it – if it’s a love story, your heart flip-flops when you think about
the characters’ budding affection for one another. When you’re forced to put the
book down and carry on with daily living, you fail to be present because you’re
constantly wondering what’s going to happen next. In all, books cause you to lose
yourself in another world … one that’s all in your head.
Now, get your nose out of that book and go with me to
another place. In this setting, things are dark and dismal. Everything is
negative and harsh. Nothing goes right, there are no breaks, and the monotony
of it all repeats day after day, night after night. A sense of hopelessness
permeates the stale air. You want out of the dungeon, but the fluorescent
lights above the exit door are just as black as the walls caving in around you.
Others try to guide you out, but they can’t. So you flounder, and you sink
deeper.
What is this detestable place? It’s depression. And the
non-readers among us would equate it with the plot of an engrossing, fictitious
book – they would say, “It’s all in your head; it’s not reality.”
I’m not going to argue with that. Depression is a mental
illness so, yes, the chemical imbalance actually literally is
in your head. But I will argue with those who discount it, saying it’s not
reality.
The book lovers among us know the truth – that even if the
plot is fictional, the feelings I feel when I flip open to my bookmark are
real. The characters may not be alive, but they make me laugh, cry, and dream.
The street the protagonist is walking on may not exist, but I have a vivid
experience of feeling the cobblestone through the soles of my sandals.
The life of the mind is powerful. The mind makes reality.
And while a world may exist only on paper, the reader has a tangible experience.
Same with those who are depressed. Reality may not be so bad, and she may have
her makeup on, but in her inner world she is literally shriveling up and dying.
Have you ever known someone who is depressed and written
them off, or wished they would just “get over it?” Have you ever ached when
witnessing the great divide between someone’s decent circumstances and their miserable
internal reality? Or maybe you have been depressed yourself and you know what I
mean all too well. Did you know that physical realities and mental realities
are just the same to God as His spiritual reality? Did you know that He willingly
goes with you into those deep pits and sits with you, cries with you and stays
with you, so you are actually never, ever alone?
“But
as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord,
I wait for God my Savior;
my God will hear me.
Do
not gloat over me, my enemy!
Though I have fallen, I will rise.
Though I sit in darkness,
the Lord
will be my light.” Micah 7:7-8
“Answer
me quickly, Lord; my spirit fails. Do not hide your face from me or I will be
like those who go down to the pit. Let the morning bring me word of your
unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.” Psalm 143:7-8
Labels: books, depression, God, reading, reality