“Hi, my name is Depression.”
“Nice to meet you, Depression! I’m PTSD.”
“Have you met my friend OCD yet? You can usually find them hanging around Anxiety.”
“Let me introduce you to ADHD! They’re the life of the party.”
“Has anyone seen Bipolar Two?”
This sounds like something you’d hear during an undergrad psychology class or group therapy exercise, right? If you overheard a serious conversation like this on the street, you’d either assume the participants were joking or be truly concerned for their mental health. No one introduces themselves by the name of their mental illness.
So why do we often let it become such a big part of our identities?
Before we go on, I want to assure you that I am someone who talks openly about her mental health. I have an ADHD and Major Depressive Disorder diagnosis, and while I haven’t been “officially” diagnosed with anxiety or OCD, I have struggled with symptoms of both disorders on and off throughout my lifetime. I’ve been seeing a therapist for several years, and I take medication for my brain every single day.
In conclusion: I am all for open and honest conversations about mental health, especially in church settings where that topic hasn’t always been welcomed. After suffering silently throughout most of my high school and college years, I’ve made it a mission to be transparent about my own mental health in the hopes of encouraging others who are walking a similar journey.
And/also…
I’m learning to be more aware of how I talk about my mental health — and not just how I talk about it with others, but how I talk about it to myself. Because if I’m not careful, I can start to live as though ADHD, depression, anxiety, etc. are not just the result of living with a brain that feels the effects of a fallen world, but an unshakeable part of who I am.
And that, my friends, is a lie.
These disorders may be a lifelong thorn in my flesh, but they do not get to claim my life as their own. My life belongs to the One whose flesh was pierced by thorns meant for me, the Lamb of God who hung Himself on a cross for sins I hadn’t even committed yet, the Lion of Judah who roared His own dry bones back to life and brought mine with Him.
There are days when I lie in bed after my alarm has startled me awake, gazing at the wall with bleary eyes and wondering how on earth I’m going to summon the energy to get up and get through the day ahead. Sometimes I’m still there long after I meant to be, and I can feel the shame begin to drape over me like a weighted blanket.
You’re letting your ADHD/depression/anxiety win again.
This is just how you are.
The day is basically gone, so you might as well go back to sleep.
What’s the point in trying to do better if your own mind is fighting against you?
And for a painfully long time, I listened to that shame. I believed its lies about my identity. I let it tell me my own name.
But recently, I’ve begun to listen to a different voice on mornings like these. And this is what that voice tells me:
“If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.” Romans 8:11 ESV
The Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in me.
The Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you.
The Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in us.
If the Spirit who lives in us is the same Spirit of the One who raised Jesus from the dead, then it stands to reason that the Spirit who lives in me can give me the strength to rise up from my bed.
Yes, there will be days when it feels like our mental illness wins.
There will be days when we don’t get out of bed.
There will be days when it is necessary to let our brains and bodies rest from the battle for a bit.
But these days do not define us.
These days do not get a say in who we are.
These days cannot claim our identities as their own.
I may be a person who struggles with mental illness. You may be, too; or you may be a person who loves someone who struggles in this way. The truth is, we may never fully overcome this struggle on this side of eternity.
But there’s another, even greater truth, and that is this:
We are children of the Living God, the One who formed the deepest fibers of our being — including our brains — with His bare hands. He who breathed the world into being has written our stories, and we can trust that every single detail, even our diagnosis, is for our good and for His glory.
So with that said…
Hi, my name is Kati. I struggle with mental illness, but I’m also a beloved daughter of the Good Father, a precious friend of the Risen Savior, and a dwelling place for the Spirit of Truth.
What’s your name?
ABOUT THE BLOGGER:
Kati Lynn Tena grew up in Chester County and graduated from Oxford Area High School. After earning her bachelor’s degree in writing from the University of Pittsburgh, she returned to the area and got a job working for a local library. Seven years later, a man walked into the library looking for DVDs and complimented one of her tattoos. In April of 2025 Kati married this man, and the two of them are currently living the love story God wrote for them in an adorable little house on the same street where she was raised. Kati currently works part-time doing marketing for a local youth center, and she spends the remainder of her time hanging out with her husband and friends, working on her own writing and art ventures, and slowly improving her Spanish.