Hello. My Name is Abby and I am a pastor, and I am on prozac.

Both of these things are pretty common knowledge. My Facebook profile has me in a collar. If you have talked to me recently I have probably invited you to one of the four community picnics my church is having this summer. Also, I make it a point to talk about my depression medication. I think it is important to talk about, because sometimes it feels like the only people talking about it are saying it is my fault.

My brain does not make enough serotonin, also I am extremely near sighted. Both things are true about the way God made me, but no one has ever suggested I pray away the near-sighted=ness. They just tell me they like my glasses. I want there to be the same stigma free conversation about mental health as there is about eye health. No one has ever said that the reason I can’t see more than 3 feet in front of my face without my glasses is because I lack faith.

Historically, this is how the church has been pretty terrible to people with mental health problems. For that I am deeply sorry. I am sorry that even as recently as yesterday people have taken the opportunity to use the suicides of very public people to let the world know that God’s people aren’t depressed. What hogwash. What a terrible lie.

I am called, and collared, and I have chronic depression. I am God’s people. I am God’s beloved daughter, and I take prozac every single morning. I believe that tiny pill is a good good gift from a good good God who is inviting me to participate in this world as my full self. I need some more serotonin. This pill provides it.

I prayed for years that my depression would leave me. There were times when it was better, and times it was worse. There were times when I was exercising and meditating and it felt better. The depression felt better. But there were also days when there was a constant loop of criticism in my head telling me that I was not good enough, that I was a failure, that I was going to screw it up and everyone else along with it. I didn’t always even know what it is.

Depression is a liar, and unfortunately the church has sometimes contributed to those lies instead of calling them out. You being depressed is your fault as much as you being nearsighted. There is help. Of course pray about it, but be open to the spirit leading you to medical intervention.  I spent a long time avoiding meds because I was sure God was against them. I was wrong. When I tried to give up negative self talk for Lent and could not do it, I got the help I had needed for a long time. For me, prozac is the miracle I have prayed for. I know that not everyone has the same medicine journey. I know that sometimes it takes a long time, or the meds stop working, or a doctor pumps you full of a drug that isn’t meant for you (this happened when I was 16, it took me 15 years to try again).

I wish that I could send you to any church in America and they would support you, hold your hand, cry with you, and hold your hope on the days it was too hard. I wish that the church was always a place where we could weep together, and hold each other in pain and joy, where we really did laugh and dance and weep with those who were doing any and all of those things. There are churches like that, I just wish they were all like that.

For now, all I can say is that I am a pastor, and I am on prozac. Both of those things are from God. Both of those things are good gifts from God. I am grateful for my call and grateful for my meds. I am grateful for a community that walks beside me and encourages my full gifts in my full health. For me, that means believing that God loves me, preaching truth, and taking prozac. Depression is not your lack of faith, it is a lack of serotonin.