Me Before You- Do Implicit Messages Matter?

If you haven’t yet read this book or watched the movie, I should warn you that this will have spoilers. But also, I’m going to recommend that you skip watching it (I honestly can’t remember the last time I actively recommended that people avoid a movie I had seen, this is so weird) so just accept the spoilers, read this post, and move on with your life without subjecting yourself to the movie.

I was expecting a tragic love story. I had watched the trailers, and I was prepared to cry (although to be totally fair, I hadn't actually read the book so I had only vague ideas about the ending and was thus not totally prepared) The movie did produce many tears, but they were unexpectedly angry tears. This was initially because I was angry and frustrated at Will Traynor deciding to end his life, upset at what seemed like a selfish decision that if he couldn’t have life on his terms, he wouldn’t live at all. I started my cry hurt by the devastating choice a fictional character was making, but I quickly moved on to being angry about the people selling me this story.

I wanted a love story and what I got instead was a depressed man insisting on his own autonomy while simultaneously attempting to convince a woman that the choices she is making about her life are a waste of her potential and that she needs to live differently. Her feelings grow from “I hate this job and I don’t want you to die” to “I guess I have feelings for you and I still don’t want you to die.” Meanwhile, both of them manipulate and keep things from each other. Now, don’t get me wrong, this is Hollywood and I don’t expect too much in terms of a love story, but the climax of their "romance" seemed to be that, as Samuel James wrote, “Louisa finally receives his affection, but his true love remains his life before the accident.” This movie has less to say about love and more to say about disability, human value, and what makes life meaningful, and these messages are where things get really disturbing.

Essentially, the message this movie sends is “If you are disabled in some way that you feel prevents you from living life the way you want to, death is a totally acceptable option. And if you truly love someone and they want to die, you will accept their choice and be there for them in the way that they want you to be.” Someone else curtly summed it up as "Live boldly... unless you are in a wheelchair".

“I can’t live the life I want so I should die” is simply, deeply, untrue. And before you tell me that it's okay for the movie to make that truth claim, or not okay for me to reject it because 'some people in his situation actually feel that way'... let's address that.

First of all, Will is a fictional character created by an able-bodied woman who knew nothing about quadriplegia prior to writing this book, and who somehow managed to avoid talking to a single person with quadriplegia during the course of her extensive medical research on the topic. Will represents less an actual person experiencing a life changing disability than he represents able-bodied people's perceptions of disability. As many disabled people have already expressed with much more eloquence and authority than I have, this movie perpetuates harmful stereotypes about disability while eliminating realistic pictures of what daily life with disability looks like (one can only assume because the makers find the realities of disability distasteful, shameful, or perhaps just unromantic). Secondly, regarding the 'someone somewhere actually feels that way' sentiment...  if I actually came across someone with a spinal cord injury that resulted in quadriplegia who felt hopeless and depressed and wanted to die, I would like to think that I could compassionately respond to them in a way that validates their experience and emotions without agreeing with them that they should die.

As I have said, disability activists have pretty clearly expressed the various problems with this story and the way that it was told, both from a community perspective as well as their own experiences. But I haven't heard voices speaking up on behalf of those who are depressed and suicidal, and so I would like to make one additional point.

For more than a decade now, we have been sending able-bodied and exceptionally fit men and women in the prime of their lives to go fight wars for our country. And many of them have come home with life-altering injuries. They have demonstrated totally understandable difficulties adjusting to civilian life post-injury, not the least of which because they devoted years to a mission that they are no longer a part of. That loss of purpose, as well as the daily realities of life with a disability, takes a heavy emotional toll, and is a contributing factor to the high rate of veteran suicide. What is that rate, you wonder? 22 people. Every. Day.

Maybe I am biased. Perhaps I am overly sensitive because of the work that I do, but in our current climate, do we really need the implicit messages in Me Before You? Are they what we should be telling people struggling with depression and suicide? Are they what we should be telling their families and friends?

Can we agree that anyone taking their own life is tragic? Because I think it is possible, if we don't pay attention to the messages filtering through our experiences, to become nonchalant and lackadaisical about this truth. And I think it is possible, if we aren't careful about the messages we are tacitly supporting, that real harm might be done in the lives of real people.  Either we decide, as a community, that life is valuable, so we support each other and fight for each other and help others find meaning and purpose in life, or... we decide its a grey area and don't fight and people die.

Perhaps you think this is over dramatic. I can accept that, and I will simply say, just in case the messages that we send matter: Every person is valuable, regardless of ability or disability. Every life has meaning, even in the midst of difficulty. Everyone should live boldly. Everyone should live.

Father's Day (When Yours Is Not Everything You Dreamed Of)

Father's day is a joyful day for most people, but can be a painful reminder for others. Children whose relationships with their fathers are marred by conflict, hurt, separation, and even death often don't enjoy celebrating Father's Day or watching others celebrate. I know of this from personal experience, and I suspect as well that some fathers may have difficult feelings on this day, as they are reminded of brokenness in their lives and the lives of their children.

Despite the way the Lord has been graciously working in my relationship with my father, I admit that I still don't always handle Father's Day very well, particularly in a church that celebrates fathers on this Sunday with great joy. But I am getting better at it! Two years ago was unexpectedly rough. One of my friends stood in front of our church and read a beautiful letter to her dad honoring him for the blessing he is to her. I, meanwhile, stood in the back of the church and cried, hoping that no one would see me. I didn't want to deal with anyone else noticing or trying to comfort me because I was busy being surprised and confused by myself... after all, my relationship with my dad

at the time was the best that it had been in years. Still, there was a sense of loss in realizing that I wished my father fit the description in that loving letter my friend shared.

So last year, I instituted some rules suggestions I created for myself, and they made a difference. This year, I am sharing them for anyone else who might struggle to deal with Father's Day when your father isn't everything you dreamed of.

See how inclusive this category is? Some people experience deep and serious hurt from the man who was supposed to love and protect them. Many others experience disappointment with their father at some point or another. I don't want to evaluate and compare this pain but rather come alongside and tell you: I have experienced pain, too. And it has made this day difficult for me. I hope some of the things that have helped me might help you, too.

1) Acknowledge and grieve what you have lost, and turn to your heavenly father for comfort. Healing always involves examining the wound, doesn't it? Whether you have a gash in your leg, a traumatic experience, or a person who has wronged you, you have to take a good look to figure out the extent of the injury before treating it. Just as forgiveness requires you to determine the debt owed before you can forgive that debt, I encourage you to identify the cause of your present pain. And what better person to seek comfort for that pain from than our heavenly father? He sees your hurt, and he longs to embrace you. You have a father who wants to comfort you and wipe away your tears with promises of "It's okay, Daddy is here."

2) Dwell on the ways that God is your perfect father. My earthly father is not everything I've hoped he would be. But my heavenly father is and more. In fact, in every way your earthly father lacks, your heavenly father overflows with abundance. He is tender. He is strong. He is kind. He is present. He is gracious. He is good. Above all, he loves you with an everlasting, unfailing, unconditional love. What aspects of your Father God minister to your heart and fill an aching hole you wanted your father to fill? Think of those things.

3) Consider how your experiences might equip you to care for and minister to others. Your sorrows do not have to be only painful. They can also be used, if you choose, to help other people. Maybe someone will open up to you about their life, only to find that you can empathize with them. Maybe you will see someone hurting in the midst of a situation similar to yours, and you will be able to walk with them through it. Maybe you will be a different kind of parent to your own children, and help others to be a different kind of parent. How might God redeem the pain you have felt, so that you can look back at it and say "God used it for good. He was at work in my life"?

4) Recognize that today does not have to be defined by your feelings. (My actual note to myself reads "Recognize that not everything today has to revolve around you".) Particularly if you have already taken time for yourself and your emotions in suggestion 1, I think it is acceptable and appropriate to choose not to dwell on them all day long. For me, Sunday morning of Father's Day offers examples of people I could be thinking about besides myself... look at those little kids who love their daddies! Look at that faithful grandpa who loved his children well and raised them to be parents who love their children well! Look at that first time dad! *Pray for that first time dad! ;) Look at that dad who is raising his teenage boys to be God fearing, women honoring men! Remember that Father's Day is a celebration of fathers everywhere, not just your own father, and that there are fathers around you who make your heart celebrate joyfully even if your feelings about your own father are more complex.

I hope you find these give you peace and help you to choose joy. My relationship with my dad and some of the mess in my heart still needs work, but I am grateful for the way that my Father God is at work both in my life and my heart.

Radio Silence

When things are hard, I don't write about them. It doesn't matter if these are messages to friends, journal entries, or blog posts for anyone to see. I just stop writing.

The result is that there are months and whole years of my life that I have no written record of. Not only is that frustrating because of the good things that happened during those times that I wish I could remember, but also because I don't remember the struggles well anymore either. Looking back, I wish that I had fought through it and written something down so I could go back later and understand how I was feeling once I wasn't in that place anymore. Instead, all I have are angst-y teenage playlists to deduce what I was going though.

Alas, I have pretty much done it again. Things have been hard and I have disappeared. Part of me is totally fine with this because the internet is not my diary, but I also dislike the tendency to whitewash our social media presence. It feels vaguely dishonest. So without further ado...

I was so looking forward to the day I could announce to you all where I was going to grad school and set a date for the finale of the postbac blog. But that isn't going to happen this year because, despite my best efforts, I didn't get a grad school offer.

Honestly, it's kind of devastating. I thought I would be over it by now but I'm not. I'm still disappointed, even though I am grateful to have a job and mentors who support me and remind me that "a one year setback for a PhD isn't that big of a deal". I'm not excited about basically repeating this past year of my life when I was so looking forward to moving on to the next step, but that's where I am.

I seriously considered calling it a wrap here, because I haven't been inclined to blog and I'm not super excited right now about still being a postbac. But then someone blogged vulnerably about all the stuff they had been through in the last year and I was encouraged by it. And then another person wrote about good things they are learning, and I was excited about it. And then someone else mused insightfully about something they cared about, and it made me think. I'm grateful when people let me see inside their minds and share their lives; it is one of the ways that I feel connected to others in the cyber-world where we spend so much time. All that to say, the catblog continues.

Also, I still have adorable cats, obviously

So here I am! Still in Frederick, still loving Jesus, and still passionate about clinical psych. There are good moments mixed in with the hard, as always, and every once and awhile, I get tiny glimpses that this season I don't want to be in might turn out to be a sweet time. Here's hoping that there is truth in that, and someday I may look back and be grateful for the current chapter.

Not So Great Expectations

I thought everything would be better once I got my grad applications in.

Oops.

It seems that I have, probably for the hundredth time, mistakenly thought that I was about to get to a place in life where things would be easy... easy enough, that is, for me to do it by myself. I was expecting to reach this point right now and not desperately need Jesus.

Oh what a mistake. It's always such a mistake.

...Because the first half of January got me. I felt overwhelmed and I wanted to crawl under my desk and not do a single thing that apparently all need to be done at that very moment. And in the midst of this overwhelmed feeling, I thought, "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" I was angry because my expectations were inaccurate and I wasn't prepared for the way I was feeling.

Then in the midst of my midst of my frustration and dismay one week, I tuned in to the words playing on my (totally non-Christian music) Pandora station:

...Here I raise mine ebenezer, hither by thy help I've come
And I hope, by thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger wandering from the fold of God
he to rescue me from danger interposed his precious blood

Oh to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be
let thy goodness like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee
prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above

I suppose I can add "impromptu rendition of my favorite hymn in the middle of a hard day" to my list of things to be thankful for...

The point is that I need grace every day. I need Jesus every day. It's to today, by His help, that I've come, and it's up to Him for me to safely arrive at my (eternal) home. But there is some prideful part of me that continues thinking that I can be independent and that I should be unless it's necessary to depend on God for something that's too hard for me to handle. That is not how life works at all, and unconsciously assessing whether I'll be able to make it through the day on my own sets me up for epic failure... or at least unnecessarily stressful days.

So today some of the responsibilities that were overwhelming me in January are completed. Others have been added to the list. But I'll be okay, because Christ's grace covers me today, like it does every day.