They Tried to Make Me Go to Rehab

Back in January, I deactivated from Facebook. I needed a break. A breather. A social media detox, if you will.

I had become addicted. And let's face it. I'm not the only one.

Have you seen the haunting photographs from Eric Pickersgill's project Removed? Oh my word, what an indictment!

It's a sad deal when we take something good and make it ultimate. Social media is purposed to bring us together, but when we look to it for validation and use it as an emotional numbing agent, it divides us.

That's what happened to me. So to break my habit, God put me in social media rehab for eight months. Here's an overview of how that went:

Facebook Rehabilitation Diary:

Day 1: Good day. Withdrawal set in this evening, manifesting in agitation and a pounding headache. Apparently, Facebook withdrawal is a real thing. Who knew?

Day 2: Devastating news for our family. Glad I'm not on Facebook.

Days 3-10: Undulating between rage and depression with almost no in between. Trying very hard to be a supportive wife and mother. Wrestling with God over the first few chapters of Job again. I was one chapter from the end of the book, but my heart is in chapters 1-3. So thither I return.

Week 1: Rediscovered Pinterest. In my defense, I'm using it to learn how to write a better book. Mostly. Also, I discovered cat memes.

 

Week 2: Lonely. Had things to say and no one to say them to. I texted instead. That helped. Can't go outside or stand near the door because of the cold.  So depressed all I want to do is eat and sleep. Since I don't have FB, I spend free time doing novel research.

Week 4: Not as angry now. Seeing good come from the bad. Stronger relationships with B and the kids. Spiritual growth in B. Began Draft 2 of my novel.

 

Month 2:  Beginning to crawl out of The Pit of Despair. Family vacation. Hit my writing stride.

 

Month 3: Look how much I can accomplish without FB! Look at all these inflammatory events I'm missing! All the stress I'm avoiding! What is this new, fabulous world?

Month 4: Turns out...to be accepted by an agent and sell actual, real-live books, I must have an author platform, which includes FB, Twitter, and an active blog. Bubble busted.

Month 5: Draft 3 of my novel complete. It's probably time to return to Facebook. Resistance. Anxiety. Avoidance.

Month 6: Suddenly realized I'm lonely. Returning to FB now would be like a recovering alcoholic strolling the liquor aisle after his dog died.

Month 7: Working on face-to-face relationships. Draft 4 in progress. Facebook return imminent.

End of Month 7: Submit manuscript to beta readers. Deep breath.

(Dog memes are also fun.)

Almost month 8: Logged back in.

What I Learned:

 

1) Facebook is legitimate community.

While nothing can replace the people in front of me, there's something truly grand about the ability to connect with human beings all over the globe. My best friends live out of state. I've met some incredible people who live in other countries. I missed them while I was away. 

2) Facebook is its own kind of social assistance.

We don't have time to keep up with every person we care about. In our fast-paced culture, everyone is swamped. During the eight months I was away, I talked to my best friends maybe 2-3 times each and saw almost no one outside of immediate family. Every now and then I would get a text or hear from mom that someone missed me or wanted to know how I was. People didn't stop caring just because I was away. Neither did I! But without Facebook, we no longer had a convenient way to check in.

3) Facebook hiatus was good for my health.

Facebook stresses me out. It's not just the drama over politics, current events, and what Christian women consider acceptable entertainment (read into that what you will), though that's plenty bad for sensitive folk like me.

The main reason Facebook stresses me out is because I walk through life with this strange, genetically-rooted complex which makes me believe every vague or negative status and delayed private message response is my fault and that I somehow offended this person and I must do something to make it right.

Slowly but surely, I'm learning I'm not the center of the universe and not everyone is thinking of me when they type in their various vague/negative statuses and that I should calm the heck down and give people the benefit of the doubt. *breathes into paper bag*

Stress is mast cell trigger. I don't think it's a coincidence that I enjoyed the healthiest few months I've had in a while during my FB absence.

4) Facebook hiatus doesn't automatically strengthen face-to-face relationships.

It's far easier to swap addictions than it is to learn new habits. I struggled with this throughout my hiatus. If it wasn't FB, it was Pinterest. Or music. Or Netflix. Or my novel. I had to work to connect.

Though my health is stable now, life is still hard. Painful, even. It's easier to self-medicate with technology (since I can't do it with food, liquor, or medication) than it is to acknowledge the pain, process it, and relate to others.

5) The world keeps spinning with or without me. 

For eight months I was invisible to nearly everyone except the people under my roof. And the world didn't end. Everyone was fiiiine. (I know. I can't believe it either.) I find this both humbling and comforting.

6) Now that I'm clean, I enjoy Facebook more. I'm free to enjoy the gift without the gift possessing me. Which is way more fun.

All in all, I loved being away and I love being back. The thing that was poison to me in January is a treat to me now. And that's a good place to be.



What do you think? What pros and cons does Facebook hold for you? Is its cultural impact mostly positive or negative? Does it connect us or divide us? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

There's a Place for Us

There are many facets of illness I find difficult. The loneliness. The uncertainty. My food sensitivities are always changing and growing in number. What will I eat tomorrow? A year from now? What if a wasp stings me while I'm alone with the kids? Would I survive the flu? Winter is coming, so freedom will be going. How bad will the depression be this time?

But nothing presses me quite like the question...

Where do I belong?

Before I was sick, I was a mom who did stuff with her kids. Brandon and I taught first graders at church. I sang for area congregations when asked. I gave music lessons to children. I traveled to Ruston once a week for one-on-one discipleship, and was part of a community group. I met one friend for playdates and another for prayer. I led a couple of choir things for our church. I had a place.

When I became ill, it all burned to the ground. Nothing survived, and nothing has revived. But my soul-razing has proven to be a very good thing.

My activity was aimless. 

 

Just because I did a lot of stuff, doesn't mean I was functioning as part of an organic whole. There's much more to life than just being busy. 

"A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other...It is the one and only Spirit who distributes all these gifts. He alone decides which gift each person should have. The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ..and God has put each part just where he wants it."-1 Corinthians 12:7,11,12,18

I have friends who strongly disagree with me about this, but I believe God brought illness into my life. (Maybe that's not the best way to say it. Maybe I should say that when Satan asked to bring this illness to me, God agreed because He knew best.) I see it as mercy. Severe mercy, I grant you, but mercy nonetheless.

I'm where God wants me. Most days, I'm okay with that.

Based upon what I understand of my spiritual gifts now, I can say with 99.9% certainty I wasn't using them much prior to 2012. I may have had a place, but I had no function.

But how does one cut off from the body function as PART of the body?

 

This has been a question with which I've wrestled throughout. I still wrestle. Here are three ways God has answered it:

• A church outside of church. We live 45 minutes away from where we attend church. For a while, a few people helped us, but there was no way to sustain it. We were too needy and lived too far away. Besides that, we were absent. So my family became my church. Brandon, Mom, Dad, sister, brother-in-law, grandparents, and in-laws rallied around me. Not only did they offer Christian support, but it was within this tiny church that I discovered and began to exercise my true gifting.

• Christian friendships. I have several friends who live out of state. Others an hour away or a few miles down the road. By God's grace, we haven't lost touch. The encouragement these ladies have offered over the years has been essential to my spiritual health. They're champions to hang with me through all this craziness. I hope I've been half as good a friend to them.

• The invisible ministry of prayer. When I couldn't attend church myself, I prayed for the churches my people attended. For a while, Brandon and the kids went to church with my parents. So I prayed for Cedar Crest Baptist Church. My in-laws still attend the church Brandon and I married in. So I prayed for FBC Marion. My son attends Wednesday night services at my grandparents' church. I so I prayed for Faith Baptist Church. And God never released me from claiming The Bridge Community Church as my home. Through prayer, I went from feeling church-homeless to feeling like I had four churches. 

A word about invisible ministry...

I think we're all a little afraid of being invisible. But let me assure you, as someone who has been invisible for four years, it ain't so bad when you understand: The only Eyes that matter see you.

When Hagar was alone in the desert, the Angel of the Lord found her. He spoke to her. And then she called His name--You-Are-The-God-Who-Sees. That understanding was her lifeline.

And just because you aren't seen, doesn't mean you don't matter.

"In fact, some parts of the body that seem weakest and least important are actually the most necessary. And the parts we regard as less honorable are those we clothe with the greatest care. So we carefully protect those parts that should not be seen, while the more honorable parts do not require this special care. So God has put the body together such that extra honor and care are given to those parts that have less dignity. This makes for harmony among the members, so that all the members care for each other. If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it, and if one part is honored, all the parts are glad."--1 Corinthians 12:22-26

Paul says here that though I seem weak and unimportant, I'm actually pretty necessary. I may be hidden, but I'm vital. I require special care, but I'm part of what makes the body tick. I may have less dignity than others, but I'm not all that interested in dignity and frankly, I don't think God is either. If my ministry nosedives, people who will never meet me will feel it. And if God heals me or prospers me in any way, the entire body benefits.

Widows, young moms need your wisdom and helping hands. Come be a part of our families.

Young moms, your job is the most important in the world. God sees your sacrifice when no one else does.

Invalids, the way you worship God in suffering inspires us all. You are living proof of God's sustaining grace. We need that.

Shut-ins, maybe God sequestered you to be an intercessor, or a writer, or a messenger. Ask for grace to get past the self-pity and embrace your calling. It's necessary.

Waking Up

For the better part of this year, I've lived in isolation.

A large part of that is necessary for my health. If I leave my house, I can bank on returning at least a little bit sick.

By "a little bit sick," I mean I have to crawl into bed for a while, my energy is zapped, and I experience a variety of discomforts, which may include swelling, asthma, severe headache, joint and tissue pain, dizziness, loss of balance, blood pressure drops, fainting, insomnia, and/or fever.

And then, there's always the risk of returning home "very sick," which means death and I brushed shoulders along the way. I'm happy to report that hasn't happened in a while, but there's always the risk.

You see why I don't get out much.

Another part of my isolation was self-imposed. I withdrew from social media because I felt doing so was in the interests of myself and my family.

I was right.

January, February, and March leeched the life out of me. It was a difficult time for all of us, and the scant energy I had needed to go to Brandon and my kids.

My memory blocks seasons of extreme difficulty. All I remember from that time is anger, hollowness, and a weariness so deep death sounded good.

Also, God. The grappling, the crying, the fight for grateful living. Exhilarating answers to prayer. Growth. Painful, excruciating growth.

Oh! And Gilmore Girls. God bless Gilmore Girls.

The final part of the isolation was inevitable. God gave me a book to write, and guess what--you have to write in isolation. There's no other way. Without going bonkers, anyway.

Those lonely months with nothing but God, my family, my characters and their story restored my strength. Solitude was just what I needed. Funny, isn't it, how the Great Physician never gets the prescription wrong?

On July 15, I completed a typed draft of my novel. Woohoo!

I frolicked about in post-writing afterglow for a week or two. I traveled to Baton Rouge to see my friend/mentor. I watched television. I read Blake Snyder's Save the Cat!, grinning like a Cheshire cat each time I realized I had followed pro-writer advice without even knowing it. Cha-ching! I basked in having written something Mom and Brandon really liked. I took naps. 

And then I woke up. 

If you ever have the misfortune of running out of water in the middle of the desert, you will begin to feel sleepy after a time. You will sleep, and for the length of that sleep, you will feel nothing as you edge closer and closer to death. 

But when you wake, you'll experience a thirst unlike anything you can imagine. You'll be mad with it. You'll drink anything--urine, antifreeze, bleach.

Waking up to isolation was a bit like that. A bit.

For months, I slept through the pain of loneliness. To heal. To write. It was good and it was necessary and I don't regret it. 

But now...

Facebook would've been an easy fix, but I know enough of myself to realize that going to Facebook with a need like that would've been the soul equivalent to drinking antifreeze. So I waited...

In the meantime, what was I supposed to do with this desire and no clear way to quench it?

The purpose of desire, I believe, is to keep us alive and point us to God. Granted, we can warp desires into bad things when we fashion them into idols, but for the most part, God gives us desires to meet them. He's good like that, yo.

C. S. Lewis puts it like this: 

A man's physical hunger does not prove that that man will get any bread; he may die of starvation on a raft in the Atlantic. But surely a man's hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist. In the same way, though I do not believe (I wish I did) that my desire for Paradise proves that I shall enjoy it, I think it a pretty good indication that such a thing exists and that some men will. A man may love a woman and not win her; but it would be very odd if the phenomenon called "falling in love" occurred in a sexless world.

Thus, I conclude that if I desire community, community exists. Even for shut-ins. Even for me. And based on what I know of God and the Bible, community is good and necessary. We are built to need each other. So I don't have to worry about whether or not the desire is right.

But what does community look like for someone like me?

I don't believe God would awaken me to thirst just to let me die. I'm thirsty so I'll drink.

So the question isn't "Can I attain community?" but "How will I attain community?"

Which is something I'm figuring out as I go.