Rather than use a particular individual's story to focus our reflection, we have chosen to present a fictional account of a clergy woman living with depression. Although this narrative does not represent an actual person, it incorporates the experiences of many women and men who live with depression. To read real-life narratives of individuals we have encountered in person or through printed material, please visit our Narratives page.
“Melissa” is a solo pastor serving a mid-sized United Church of Christ congregation. She is in her late thirties, married, with two children. She summarizes many of the themes depressed women describe, from the burden of too many responsibilities to the fear of revealing her depression to her community.
Advent is always the busiest time of the season at our church. Every group is having Christmas teas and cookie sales, and alternative gift-giving opportunities, and the congregation is holding pot lucks—everything social seems to happen at once. Then there’s the services—the “Blue Christmas” service, the ecumenical community holiday service, the children’s pageant, the commissioning of the youth for their damn ski trip, then, of course, there’s Christmas Eve’s three services, and there’s next Sunday’s services as well. In addition to this bustle, the church year starts, so I have meetings with the Deacons and the Associate Pastors to outline goals for the New Year. And, of course, there are my pastoral visits and sermons to write, a newsletter to put out and my own family to deal with. I would love to have time to take my kids to the Mall to have their picture taken with Santa Claus, but I just don’t have the hour to spare. My husband had to take them this year. When he came home and told me about the great time they had getting their pictures done, and how my youngest kept asking for me, I just lost it. I started crying uncontrollably, and realized how miserable I’ve become. I’ve been trying to be so strong and fulfill all my responsibilities, but I just can’t shake this sense of guilt that I’m not doing my “best.” The “best” pastor would be able to go to most all the social events AND preach an inspiring sermon on Sunday morning. The “best” mom would be able to make Christmas special for her kids by spending time with her family. And it’s not just a JOB for me. I’m called by God to be a pastor, and a wife, and a mother. And, I’m exhausted! Even if I have a moment to spare, all I want to do is lay down on the couch in my office, lock the door to shut out the world, and go to sleep. But then I can’t sleep at night because I’m thinking about all the things left undone from the day. I’ve mentioned my guilt to my husband, who’s doing his best to help me with the family. He said for me to go to therapy—that maybe I needed to talk to someone about how emotional I’ve been lately. You know, I appreciate his concern, but I have no interest in going. First of all, I have no time for therapy. If I can’t spare an hour for my kids, I’m not going to spare it for some therapist at $100 a pop. Plus, I was trained in family therapy. I know that I’m a “workaholic,” and that I’m depressed because of stress. A therapist is only going to confirm what I already know . . . and I can’t see how that’s worth the waste of time and money. Not to mention the fact that if anyone at church found out, I might be in jeopardy of losing my job. I’m the one that counsels folks who are falling apart. I can’t fall apart. I’m not allowed. The congregation needs to think of me as capable and put-together. That’s what true leadership is about. In the meantime, I feel like I’m spiraling out of control. More and more things are left undone at the end of the day. I’m spending more and more time locked in my office, and my family is getting less and less quality time with me. Through all this I send out empty prayers that God will heal me, and help me bring back my joy, but I’m not hearing any answers. I feel like I’m too tired to listen. Pretty soon it’s going to be too hard to pray.