One of my early memories is from a Christmas present that my mom had my brothers and I make for our grandma. We each were given the chance to use some special fabric and colors to draw a picture that would later be made into a decorative pillow. I distinctly remember the pride I felt in my careful work, each color selected with great intention.
I drew a bright, bold and beautiful clown that was sure to become the benchmark for how all future clowns would style their looks. In the moment, I felt that no finer artwork had ever been done and was feeling sorry for my brothers, whose shoddy work would have to be displayed next to mine.
I don't know whether it is fortunate or unfortunate but that pillow is still around. It serves as a powerful reminder that we don't always see the world as clearly as we think. The clown is garish and ghoulish with a horrible mix of colors and shapes. The face is not even really humanoid in shape and any clown would really struggle to recreate a facsimile of my drawing on their face.
It is right next to the very nice drawing of an airplane that my older brother drew. While in one sense it is "better" than the scribbles of my younger brother, he can be forgiven for having barely been old enough to hold a crayon. If I hadn't been a kid it would be easy to look at it and tell me "you're trying too hard".
A couple things stand out to me about the whole situation. I know that at the time I really did do my best and that my efforts were worth the praise I received for them. I'm grateful that no one gave me the tiny dose of reality and perspective that it was in fact, a horrifying clown. It would have crushed my spirit to hear such truth.
At the same time, it is very healthy for me as an adult to have greater perspective on what might qualify as praiseworthy art. If I were still drawing childish grotesqueries while fawning for praise I would be more than a bit off base. Were I to still look on the clown with the same emotions that I had when making it I would be delusional. It holds some cuteness now in its ugliness, because of my age at the time of production and the sentiment I put into making it, but it I shouldn't still hold illusions of grandeur when looking at it.
This memory, given proper perspective over time has been helpful for me in thinking about my own journey with anxiety and depression. There are times in my life where my sensory and emotional perceptions of reality have been so shaped and colored by my anxiety and depression that the memories of those times are not quite reliable. The sense that my heart and mind try to make of things are all flavored by the fears, lies, and worries that are bubbling out of my soul.
That being said, these perceptions feel as real to me as anything I might feel while having the best of mental health and perceptual clarity. So much so that in the moment it doesn't always help for someone to try to bring perspective. One thing that many people who have not struggled with anxiety and depression often have a hard time understanding is just how real things are for those of us who are struggling in the moment.
Just as in the moment, my clown was a beauty to behold for me whilst being a horror for others, so too can the world be a dark and fearsome place to me while others see things with a clearer picture of reality. Depression and anxiety have made it hard at times to see and hold onto Truth about myself, others, the world, or even God. It is simply too big of a jump for me to get to the broader and clearer perspective that others might be trying to help me see.
The starting place for me, when I am struggling, and the starting place for anyone trying to help someone with anxiety and depression, is in the pit. I, and any "helpers" need to start in the place of despair and hopelessness, trying to understand the things that have brought about the emotive state that is so burdensome.
Identifying specific, tangible points of fear, anxiety, or sadness is the first step needed in the journey to healing. While those things might not make sense and seem detached from the reality seen by those not struggling with anxiety or depression, they are very real and present to those in the throes of the battle.
In naming and understanding what each emotion is saying, I have been able to take the next steps of dismantling the fears and lies that are present. I can take the baby steps of identifying Truth that needs to believed and that counters the things that are driving my emotional state. Often for me this involves scripture and tearing down assumptions that have been wrongly trusted.
The journey out of anxiety and depression isn't the giant leap that outsiders might want it to be. More often, it is a knock-down, drag-out fight, with me trying to win more rounds than I lose. The hope in the struggle is that there is a perspective and a reality that, when properly understood and believed, can help.
I didn't come to the realization that my clown drawing was a dud overnight. For a few years I actually continued to admire it. Slowly, through my childhood, I began to see it a bit more for what it was. For a season I was embarrassed by it, thinking it didn't represent me very well. I probably flipped it over so I didn't have too look at it when at Grandma's house. However, as time wore on and I have grown in maturity the embarrassment disappeared and I have come to appreciate it for what it is: a genuine loving attempt by a little kid to make something his Grandma would love.
It can be similar to the journey out of anxiety or depression. In the middle of the battle, everything seems a certain way and I often live and act and certainly feel as if the dark and despairing outlook is the only way to go about life.
As I have gained greater awareness of the powerful ways my mental health has colored seasons of my life and as I've been able to step out of those dark moments, I have had occasions of shame or embarrassment in reflecting on how I felt or acted. I have tried to hide the reality from others and myself, thinking it doesn't represent the me that I want to be know for.
However, by the grace of God, as I have grown, the embarrassment has disappeared and I have come to appreciate how God has used my anxiety and depression to shape me. While the "ugly" sentiments I carried in the moment were not commensurate with reality, I can also see the beauty of the childlike faith and tender heart brought about in my moments of despair.
My memories and perceptions that have been shaped by anxiety, while not entirely reliable, have been used by God to reveal important things about my heart and character. I can ignore the "artwork" from those seasons of life, and instead uncover the beauty that God was working in my life. There is a openness and vulnerability that has grown in me that is from God. I understand His tender mercies and grace with far greater depth than ever before. I've also found my faith to grow in ferocity through the moments of anguish.
Perhaps most surprising about my darkest moments is the fact that they have actually made me and my life more beautiful. While in the moment I can only perceive ugliness, God has worked to bring about powerful, redemptive artwork from what feels like sackcloth's and ashes.
Hindsight has shown me as much in my own life. An amazing thing is that others have looked on those moments that I have deemed as "ugly" and have seen that they are in fact beautiful. The beauty isn't one of the façade I'd like to project but fail to in times of struggle. Rather, it is a beauty of surpassing value found in God's surprising redemption of the broken in our lives.
Jesus Christ came to earth and the gospel exists not because of the things that humans often deem beautiful and good. The opposite is in fact true. Jesus Christ is most glorious, precious, and beautiful in the places of deepest pain, anguish, and ugliness. What I often most despise and try to hide in my life has actually become a place of exquisite glory because it is where the work of God is most evident.
When God looks at me, just as when my grandma looked at the clown pillow, he sees beauty. He sees the heart, love, and tenderness that he has wrought in me. He sees the bounty of opportunities that have arisen for me to speak words of truth and love and comfort for others. I truly believe that when God looks at my anxiety and depression he smiles, not because of the anguish it has caused me, but because of the beauty it has wrought. It's ugliness has made Jesus all the more beautiful in me.
Understanding the redemptive work God has done with my anxiety and depression has helped me also face other ugly areas of my life that are not attributable to mental health. The gospel perspective that God has beautifully displayed one area of brokenness has given me a greater capacity to face other brokenness in my life. Confession and repentance begin to look different when you've drunk deeply from the wells of mercy, grace and love that Jesus Christ offers to us.
The "ugly" in my life is actually where God's loves to reside. It is a part of the "God with us" promises of scripture where God comes to heal the sick. It is not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick. So also, it isn't the good that needs God's beauty but the ugly and broken. My anxiety has helped me realize that I can stop trying to make myself "good enough" before going to God. Instead, I can bring all of me and especially the ugly to God, trusting in His goodness to make it beautiful.
This has given me a great sense of freedom, knowing that I can continue to paint ugly clowns with my life so that God can do what he does to make them beautiful in Christ. Broken and beautiful is a wonderful thing to be.
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