Jess Boctor

Blog

  • O is for Opaque and Optimism

    I found this blog entry from a few years back, it was probably one of the darkest periods of my depression I had ever gone through. Rereading the post reminded me of one of the most dangerous symptoms of depression: becoming opaque. Here is an excerpt from the post to illustrate what I mean:

    “The next struggle is to not pretend that I haven’t been crying. Most days I act like nothing has happened and plaster on the “Happy-go-lucky-my-heart-isn’t-really-broken” smile. It kills me each and every time but it is easier then dealing with reality, it is easier then telling people how I really feel and it is most definitely easier then connecting with a God who wants to heal me. Why is it easier? Because if I connect with a God who wants to heal me then I have to admit that something is wrong and it hurts so much…it just does.”

    Something which is opaque cannot been seen through, it is impenetrable to light, it does not shine. Depression makes me opaque; I build walls so people cannot see who I  really am. I don’t let the light of Christ penetrate into my life. I stop shinning. I cover myself in a thick skin, and learn to smile over the pain. I feel people often don’t believe that depression is a real struggle for me because I have become so good at learning to grin and bare it. There is danger there. 

    The danger is that there cannot be healing in solitude. The mask will eventually begin to chafe, and adds to the pain. People who genuinely care for you become thorns in your side because you wont’, you cant, share what is really going on inside. How can you explain that you would rather sleep then face the sunlight? How do you explain that getting dressed was an accomplishment today? How do you tell your husband, your parents, your friends that all you really want is to leave because you think starting over may be the only way to escape the pain?

    How do you share the darkest part of your soul?

    You can’t. There aren’t really words to explain it. Every time you try to give definition to what hurts, it shifts. It changes, and you don’t have a logical, reasonable or even plausible explanation as to why. So you hide it. You cover it up, coating yourself in fake smiles, assurances that “I’m fine”, and normal life. You die in your own creation. 

    I have learned the only way to fight is with optimism.

    Not happy simplistic, “The sun will come out tomorrow”. 

    You have to have genuine hope that someday you will be healed. Optimism which takes root and leads to action, maybe to get counseling (which I went through for year, and then returned to last spring). Optimism which lets you share with someone what you are going through. Optimism which allows you to really believe the world won’t end if you begin to peel away the layers. Optimism which allows the light of Christ to begin its healing work, which allows who you were meant to be to shine through.

    Optimism which helps you to remember you really aren’t alone.

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • L is for Lingering and Laughter #novemberblogfest

    When I tell people I struggle with depression, there is one universal question.

    “How long have you been depressed?”

    I wish I knew. I wish there was some magical date I could point to and say, “See, this day I became ill. Broken. That is the day the darkness invaded the world.” For some people there is a specific day they can point to. There is a severe and tragic event which brought the darkness upon them.

    But that is their story to tell.

    My story lingers. I have always had a funny haze in my vision. The chemicals in my brain which are out of tune and cause my depression have been playing discord all through my life. The darkness has always been there, lingering. The words I remember hearing the most as a child were, “What’s wrong?” Everyone always thought I looked sad, I thought that was just who I was.

    It has taken me a long time, with a lot of searching through my past to realize just how far back the imbalance has affected my life. I have prodded my parents with questions about what I was like as a child. I always remember being termed “overly sensitive,” which may have been a fair assessment, but an incorrect diagnostic. My mom tells me about how I would wake up in the morning, bright eyed and ready to take on the world; out of nowhere I would be crying as if all the chocolate in the world had vanished in an instant.

    “But what was the trigger? What would set me off?” I asked one night. She looked at me with eyes still bewildered from the memory and answered she had no idea.

    It was more than just the manic attitudes, it was my skewed perspective. I remember my childhood as one of alieness. I always felt out of place, disjointed from my peers, unwanted; feelings which were most often unspeakable because they were indefinite. They were lingering. There was no proof to my thoughts, no bullies which pushed me around, or home situations which would make me doubt that I was loved. Yet from somewhere in the back of my mind, the voice always whispered.

    My mothers voice tells a different story. She tells the story of the girl who was the leader of the pack. Apparently I was the head of some girl gang which would march up and down our street terrorizing the neighborhood cats with good intentions. There is one story which makes me laugh the most. She actually had to go to my teacher and ask her to tell the kids to give me some breathing room. It seems I had a mild breakdown because I was being rushed by all the kids who wanted to play with me.

    Really? They wanted to play with me? Even tainted with motherly affection, these two people don’t match up. So what I do when I think about the division in my soul?

    I laugh.

    I have to. Laughter is an excellent weapon against the lingering darkness. Laughter raises the endorphins in my brain, which fights the imbalance. Laughter changes my perspective. Laughter is contagious. Laughter helps me face the dreaded question, “How long have you been this way?”

    How long have you been crazy, overly emotional, out of balance, crying, silly, manic, sensitive, broken?

    My whole life.

    As an example I like to share this story, because it makes me laugh. 

    I remember as a kid. I was only 7 or 8. My whole family was intertwined in the living room as only a family can be and we were watching the Public Broadcasting Station. You remember, it was the discovery channel before cable. It had all the nerdy shows on it, like a thorough presentation of the human reproductive system. This was the show we were watching. 

    The announcer was going into specific details about a women’s menstrual cycle, and how the changing hormones could cause PMS. Symptoms of PMS could include mood swings, irritability, and hypersensitivity. 

    My older brother, with a slightly frightened look in his eyes turned to my parents and only asked one question.

    “You mean she is going to get worse?”

    That is freaking hilarious.
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • How do you write love? #novemberblogfest

    Today is To Write Love on Her Arm Day.

    From the Facebook event, this is what it is about: 

    “To Write Love On Her Arms Day is a day where anyone can write the words love on their arms, to support those who are fighting against depression and those who are trying to recovering. On this day, just write love on your arms, and show it off, other people will ask why you have love written on your arms, and you tell them you are supporting to write love on her arms day, and how its benefiting a non profit organization helping stop depression, and make love the movement ♥”

    As someone who has struggled with depression I am excited to participate in raising awareness about the issue. I want to be vulnerable and share my story with you, but I don’t have the time to be a crazy weeping mess right now. I hope you understand. So for now, I ‘ll just share the pics of how I wrote love, and I will give you more details later.

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jessica 

    PS. I just want to say thanks to Paul, who has always made me feel loved, joined with me in fighting to darkness and cheered on the adventure. Love you.

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  • Junk I Know… #novemberblogfest

    So tomorrow will be my last day with my current employer. The thing people seem to lament the most about my leaving is the wealth of knowledge which will be leaving with me.

    The truth is, I really don’t know that much, but I don’t see the need to point the fact out to my coworkers. 

    As a farewell gift, I decided to make everyone in the CS team a coffee mug, the design is a hand written collection of “Junk I know…” 

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jessie

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  • Waiting is a Verb.

    This post has been sitting in my draft box, nothing more than a title and vague inkling of what I want to convey.

    You see, I feel like there is a misconception in the American Church about what waiting is. Some how we have it in our minds that waiting for the kingdom of God is meant to be a time of wrapping ourselves in a a spiritual blanket and shut our eyes to the world while we wait for Jesus to come sweeping down and redeem the world from the damage we have wrecked on it.

    The problem is waiting is a verb.

    Waiting is not an excuse to do nothing. It is a time of preparation. Like in the parable of the ten talents, we need to be investing, sharing, hustling and working to grow the talents and treasure which we have been entrusted with. The time of the masters return is near, just as it has been for two thousand years. There is no time to waste, we are embodiment of Christ on earth and so it is up to us to prepare the way of the Lord. Forget Palm branches, our heralding is our compassion, mercy and love for others.

    So next time you want to just cling to your salvation blankie, hit the snooze button on life and roll over, just remember: waiting is a verb.
     
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • Journal Night #novemberblogfest

    Tonight my friend, Cristin and I had journal night. These nights are a special time for her and I to connect, drink wine and make art. 

    I worked in what I call my “Play book”. It is a book which I have found, altered, and most importantly, played in. I don’t have any expectations for the pieces I make in this book. I decided to work with the Preface page today. I had previously blacked out the entire page with black India Ink with the exception of the word “Preface”. For the background, I used watered down white acrylic paint and an over sized stencil. Next layer was the wings, which I stamped and brushed on with acrylic paint. Then I used embossing powder and a heat gun to give the wings a three dimensional effect. The picture is of me from almost 12 years ago. Along the bottom I used vinyl stickers to write out, “She was just a girl, born to wish for wings” with wings stenciled in red paint. 

    This page is pretty much how I feel about my life. I have always been a fan of flying, of leaving, of moving on. Lately, my lessons have been about walking, of pacing myself, and of staying in the moment, but I guess that would be another page entirely.
     
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jesse

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  • Thoughts on Transition for #novemberblogfest

    Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men. – Colossians 3:23

    I had a friend who asked me recently for some advice on transition. Since this has been a relatively prevalent theme in my life, I thought I would take some of the things which I shared with my friend and post them. This is a jumbled culmination of the lessons which God has been teaching me for the past few years.

    The first part of the lesson, which is most likely the hardest, is that God cares more about your character than your career. I think he cares more about the attitude you bring with you to work than where it is you work. He cares about the process of refinement which needs to happen in each of us in order to make us the best representation of who He is to the world. God wants us to be fully present wherever we are. He wants us to be good stewards, and employees, even as we recognize that our current circumstances may not represent where we sense in our hearts that God is taking us. 

    That being said, God does care about your career. I refuse to believe God would say that he came to give us life, and life abundantly, and then order us all to live a cubicle defined life. I don’t think God ever intended for mankind to give the best years of his life to a job he hates. The trick though, is to make sure you are not just leaving one job you hate for another job, which you may end up hating more. 

    Remember, it is all about refinement. Learning to focus on that which God has called you to. Erwin McManus wrote in Wide Awake about how this process of focus may mean not just saying no to the obviously bad opportunities. It also means saying no to the good ones which you were not designed to do. 

    I have no delusions that my new job is a glamorous job which will utilize the fullness of who God has made me to be. I do however, believe it is part of my refinement. This job will allow me more time alone, which hopefully means more time to write and create with my hands. It will help me to use my German so that if Paul and I do go to Germany, I can be a more effective leader and witness. Hopefully my new schedule will even allow me time to take a singing class. It will teach me how to work at home and be disciplined, and it will give me the freedom to move and still have an income. All of these things are in line with, and encourage my journey towards the person God created me to be.

    In times of transition, these are the questions which I would encourage you to ask yourself:

    1. Do I want to take this new opportunity just to get out of the situation which I am currently in? Am I looking for any exit?
    2. Would this new circumstance provide opportunity to encourage and grow the person God called me to be? Will it take my focus off of those things which I really feel God has been pressing into me?
    3. Can I be realistic about what the change is? Do I have unfounded expectations that this change will  “fix” any of the problems in my life?

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jessi