Finding this video at Stuff Fundies Like was timely. In a couple of the chapters in Good God, I write about my decision to seek professional help in regards to my depression and anxiety. That was a very difficult step for me… and it’s because my church viewed “shrinks” like this guy views them…

Here’s a short excerpt from Good God (Please ignore the grammar mistakes!)

“I stood in front of my bathroom mirror and stared at the reflection of my face. I didn’t say anything at first. My cold gaze fixed itself upon my pale complexion. I inspected every inch of my face. I counted the lines underneath my eyes. I examined my hairline and mourned its steady beeline toward my backside. I admired the perfect shape of my eyebrows. And thanked God that I’d gotten my mother’s nose.

I’m depressed, I finally said. I waited for my face to react to what I’d just admitted out loud for the first time. I don’t like who I’m looking at. I don’t like how I feel. It’s like I’m empty and I don’t know how to become filled up again. I’m tired of feeling guilty and anxious and insecure. A part of me wants to run away. But I can’t; I’m too needy to run away. I’m too insecure to run. I want to be held and accepted for who I am.

Tears began bubbling out from the corners of my eyes. I watched one fall down my cheek.

I want to be happy. I want to know what it feels like to experience God like I used to. But I can’t because… I yanked some toilet paper off the roll and wiped the tears off my face. … Because I’m depressed. I can’t help it. I’m depressed.

Saying those words out loud was freeing. I wasn’t accustomed to telling myself the truth. I had no problem telling other people their truth. But I rarely uttered mine. I usually reserved those thoughts and feelings for the silent prayers I said before bedtime.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and returned to my bedroom. I’m depressed, I said again. I put on a pair of boxers. I don’t know why I’m depressed. My voice became louder. I know I’m not supposed to be depressed. But I am.

Maybe I need help.

God, I don’t want help. I don’t want people finding out I need help…“