Mental Health and Pusillanimity

In our lives we will have good days, but we will also have bad days. We will even have really great days, and simply awful days. But I can probably count on one hand the number of days that fundamentally changed my life forever, be it for better or for worse. And one of those days was February 17 of 2009. That was the day of my first, and hopefully only, seizure. It transformed me in ways I never thought possible. Suddenly, I was not able to keep my balance, or keep my eyes open without a headache resulting from overstimulation through sensory overload. I was not able to focus or even function without the application of some very strong medications. I felt tired. I felt weak. I felt broken. That was almost seventeen years ago, at the age of 23. I won’t get into the how or why of it, except to say a situation of extreme stress likely brought on the epileptic episode. Since then, panic attacks became a regular occurrence. Instead of facing the world, I feared it. Some frightening misdiagnoses (including a misdiagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis) left me with some medical-related PTSD. In the end, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, seasonal affective disorder, alcohol addiction, and a neurological disorder for which there was really no specific name. I don’t share this story to play victim, nor do I share it in hopes of a pity party. The fact is that I stand here today by the grace of God as a functional human being who is able to work, have hobbies, maintain good health, and lead a productive ministry, despite the odds being against me. But many are not so lucky, and so in the name of all of those who struggle, I share this experience with you, with the deepest of prayers that you may find peace, recovery, and ultimately joy as you struggle through the days. This is not an easy time of year, with 41 out of 50 states being blanketed in snow and experiencing sub-zero temperatures. This experience serves as an excellent topic in the realm of science vs. faith, for it demonstrated to me that they do not challenge one another, but rather complement one another. And I would like to share with you why I believe this to be the case. You see, I tried everything out there. From medication and meditation, to the alphabet soup of therapies including CBT, EMDR, ACT, and ERT. The truth is that some of these worked. The medications I currently take are absolutely necessary for me to function. Cognitive behavioral therapy and exposure therapy helped pave the way back to a semi-normal life for me. But the bitter pill to swallow was that my conditions could only ever be treated, they could never be cured.

My situation would remain this way until recently, when I discovered a piece of my Catholic faith that changed everything. And as a person of science, it went against everything I believed to be true about my condition, especially since it came from a Catholic Monk in the mid-13^th century. That’s right, Thomas Aquinas, before the invention of modern mental health treatment, appropriately characterized, explained, and diagnosed anxiety and other related mental health issues. And not just through the scope of science, but through the scope of faith as well. Aquinas asserted that anxiety was not simply something we experience from within, but an “atmosphere” that we have all around us. It is an atmosphere of self-doubt, fear, insecurity, and many other maladies. And because it exists as an atmosphere, it not only stands to disorder the mind, but the soul as well.

For more studied Catholics who listen to faith scholars like Bishop Robert Barron, you will notice that he talks about the greatness of the soul, also known as magnanimity, and smallness of the soul, or pusillanimity. The latter, pusillanimity, is what Thomas Aquinas applied to the condition of anxiety when he made his diagnosis. That’s right – 800 years before medical professionals had any handle on treating mental health, Thomas Aquinas asserted that those who suffer from anxiety do so because they have pusillanimity, or smallness of the soul. This is not an insult (nor is it meant to be indicative of an inappropriate word), but rather an indication that the body has experienced something that prevents the soul from being large enough to meet the task it was called by God to do.

People who live with anxiety, including myself, live in what I call an anxiety bubble. That is to say, they live in their comfort zone, and dare not stray out of it. But as fear and uncertainty sets in, this bubble shrinks, and one must push against the walls of the bubble in order to regain their foothold on living life. Perhaps you or someone who know went through, or continue to go through an extensive episode where they are confined to their house, their room, or their couch. Scientifically speaking, in most anxiety disorders, we go through different types of therapy to combat this. We even have two names for variants on this – social anxiety, and agoraphobia. Thomas Aquinas says that people experience “this form of sorrow” in such a way that there feels like there is no escape. I find this to be a very relatable comment. For many who experience depression and depressive episodes, thoughts of what life would be like without depression is not something that can even be imagined in that timeframe.

Going back to what Aquinas says about the smallness of soul, those who suffer from anxiety, from a scientific standpoint, trade freedom for security. Aquinas would also add that they trade holiness for certainty – that is to say, they don’t live up to their calling because they fear not knowing what the future holds. We see this practically and realistically play out in everyday life. Perhaps a person fears pursuing their dreams at a university because they fear the long hours of studying, or the straining financial situation it will put them in. Perhaps someone skips out on social events because they are exhausting and overstimulating. I can tell you from experience that because of what I went through, my brain is usually in threat-response mode, which drains your energy very fast, preventing you from doing the things you want to do. Refusal to step out of one’s comfort zone even has a scientific aspect when it comes to anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. It is known as intolerance of uncertainty, and there is actually an intolerance of uncertainty index or inventory that therapists use to score, evaluate, and assist patients.

When it comes to anxiety disorder and related disorders, both the human mind and the human soul attempt to control that which they were never meant to control. And despite the sheer magnitude of overlap in Aquinas’ research on anxiety and modern mental health treatments, there is still the possibility that you could doubt his assertions. So how do I know that what Thomas Aquinas is saying is absolutely true? I can attest to this with absolute certainty because of seventeen years of personal experience, which constitutes one of the most reliable sources of data one can have. My medications are critical, and my therapy was necessary, but even after all of that, something important still was missing. I could feel it, because I still doubted myself, questioned my abilities, and experienced episodes of depression despite all of my medications and treatments. I still feared going outside and facing the world, even though my headaches and other issues subsided.

Only when I decided to apply the teachings of my faith to my mental health predicament did things start to improve once again. I no longer feared going to work. I no longer desired to stay away from social settings. I no longer put off ministry work because I was uncertain about future events. It was most assuredly the final piece of the mental health puzzle that I needed to put in place. Through constant prayer, and constant exposure to that which is holy, one can begin to reverse their condition, albeit slowly. The fear of what tomorrow holds can be replaced by the hope in having a good and fruitful day. The feeling of being pressed down by the pressures of life can be replaced by the joy of experiencing God’s love. The hopelessness that comes from what feels like a meaningless and torturous life is replaced by the expanding of ones soul, brought about by joy and purpose from fulfilling one’s vocation.

This isn’t just a bunch of religious gibberish. The science behind medicine and mental health has helped me immeasurably over the last seventeen years, but the only thing that pulled me away from the hopelessness of my situation was surrendering my will over to God. The more I prayed, the more I engaged in ministry work, and the more I immersed myself in a holy atmosphere, the more I was capable of. My hands don’t shake as much, which is something that used to only happen when I would drink heavily. My thoughts were more ordered, something that used to only happen when  took an extra dose of my medication. I was free from depression on a snowy February day, something that used to only happen when I overloaded on vitamin D or sat under a UV lamp. My soul no longer feels small, and I no longer feel small. My soul feels magnanimous, and I am once again living pretty close to my full potential. I still have a long road ahead of me.

For those who feel that they are struggling and alone in the dead of winter, know that you indeed are not alone. I am praying for you, and there is no doubt in my mind that others are praying for you as well. You are now provided with an additional tool in your toolbox (your faith), which can regrow your soul, and help you live life the way it was meant to. But please, continue taking your medication as prescribed, and going to therapy if that is what is currently recommended. In order to live this life to the fullest, and in order to glorify the Lord, we are going to need all the help we can get. Please take care, and God Bless!