Pain and Purpose

Disoriented. Anxiety-ridden. My world had shifted. Again.

Even though I didn’t have the words at that time to articulate my feelings, I was overwhelmed by feelings of grief. At the age of 15 my family was split apart into two different hemispheres – my sister, who is 3 years my senior, in the United States, and myself and my parents half a world away.

Seven years earlier, my family embarked on a journey that would forever change and shape us - we moved to Papua New Guinea where my parents would serve as missionaries for the rest of my childhood and beyond. I became a TCK (Third Culture Kid) – an individual that grows up in a country different from that of their parents and develops a “third culture” which becomes a blend of the cultures of both. This itinerant lifestyle that sounded very adventurous and unique to most everyone I knew became my new normal. Travelling internationally at the age of 7 to a land where the dirt was red instead of brown, pineapples and banana trees grew in your backyard, and everyone spoke a different language from yours– these were all commonplace in our new home. We adjusted and I thrived as an almost-8-year-old.

But we were together then. Separation always felt like it was looming on the distant horizon.

You see, another “normal” piece of our lives was a sort of rite of passage in the life of our international school: high school graduation and the mass departure that came with it.

We attended a small school within walking distance of our home which was comprised of about 150 students from many differing nationalities. Being a part of an international mission organization meant that my classmates were from at least 5 different countries. Papua New Guinea was not an ideal place to stay as a young adult – there are few colleges, few jobs, and all of our families were somewhat transient, staying as long as God led. Graduation, then, became the inevitable time of separation when each graduate would fly away and return to their passport country to make their own life as an adult. For most of us, this meant leaving behind the friends (family, really) that we had grown up with – some of us since as early as Kindergarten.

The morning after the ceremony, the exodus began in waves as families left with their graduates for their new “homes”. Groups of friends would go with them to the airport, cry together as they left, and then return.

I always refused to go. I did not cry often.

Some TCKs experienced an additional separation from their nuclear families a year or so after returning “home”. This was true in my sister’s case. We returned to the US for an extended home assignment and then returned to Papua New Guinea without her a year later, leaving her in the care of my grandparents where she had plans to go to college.

The night before we left to fly away, I developed severe anxiety manifesting in obsessive fears about getting sick before travelling. I was not eating for fear that I would vomit. I couldn’t sleep. The anxiety continued the whole trip back and into the next several years. Frustration and hopelessness about whether I would ever feel well again turned into ongoing symptoms of depression.

My symptoms became so debilitating that I stopped socializing. Since I had difficulty eating, I lost 15-20 pounds. I developed other obsessive thoughts as well – one fearful thought that I would commit suicide plagued me and caused me to work myself into a panic regularly. I felt ashamed of my anxiety and depression and often tried to hide it, telling only my close friends. I was also afraid of telling people about my obsessive thoughts because I worried they would misunderstand, think that I was suicidal, and overreact. Worst of all, I viewed all of my symptoms as something that I was doing wrong and were therefore my fault somehow. They followed me wherever I went and cast a dark shadow on even the happiest occasions.

I felt like I was in a slimy pit, unable to gain a foothold and pull myself out into the clear light of day.

These feelings of shame, fear, insecurity, and guilt became an identity that I felt wrapped in. They were all that I could see in myself, seemingly covering up all the joy in my life and the strengths and talents that I now believe God had created in me to use for others. I clung to my faith during these times. One scripture verse that brought me a sense of hope and forward focus was 2 Corinthians 1:3-4:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

I look back on those difficult years now and remember experiencing God’s comfort, almost in the form of a tangible embrace at times. I held on to the hope that my story would be used in the future to comfort others, even though I felt like I would never be well again.

My struggles with anxiety and depression continued throughout my high school years, through the process of my own graduation and departure, and into my young adulthood. I returned to the US at the age of 18. Later, while studying at Lancaster Bible College, I connected with a skilled counselor who helped me to look deeply into the sources of my anxiety and depression. For the first time in my life, I was told that it was ok to grieve the many losses that I had experienced as a part of life overseas. I had permission to name them, look at them, and feel them without shame or fear. I learned that it is healthy to identify and process what we often perceive as negative emotions.  Our feelings give us vital information and help us make the choices we need to care for ourselves.  

Looking back, I believe that my struggling 15-year old self just needed to hear this: It’s ok to miss your sister. It’s ok to feel sad when your people leave you and you leave your people. I needed someone to teach me the skills of crying, of intentional processing, and of seeing and even celebrating my past while looking with hope to the future.

I also started to understand that anxiety and depression weren’t just because of something that I was ‘doing wrong’ and therefore deserved. These were not things that my God of Grace wanted for me. The truth is that He came so that I could “have life and have it to the full’ (John 10:10). As my perspective shifted over time, I became less and less ashamed and more open with others about my story. I would never have guessed that I would be writing out a snapshot of my journey on the internet several years later for all the world to see!

As counselors and therapists often point out, grief is not an event but a process.  As an adult TCK, I continue to process my experience. I believe that pursuing mental wellbeing is the same way. It can take many years to unlearn patterns of thinking that are not helpful, healthy, or based on truth. I am still growing and I still have days that I struggle with anxiety and/or feeling obsessive. I have down days. But I am grateful that I am the healthiest that I have ever been. Counseling and medication have been and continue to be wonderful tools along the journey.

Vulnerability and authenticity have been almost as equally as powerful.

I have found that secrets that feel like large dark clouds hanging over me are quickly blown away when I bring them in to the light by sharing them. Problems that feel like overwhelming and insurmountable mountains start to shrink down to their actual size when I am able to take my eyes off of myself and really see others around me.

Author CS Lewis wrote in his book The Problem of Pain:

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

I have found this to be true. The pain in our stories is often closely linked to the Purpose on our lives. We can have the most impact on others in the places that we have built the most empathy from our own experiences. It is indeed true that “we comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”

As a certified professional life coach, I am watching as my story is being used to impact others! My past pain has given birth to a passion for giving other women – especially fellow TCKs and missionaries -- time, space, and tools to identify and thrive in their calling. My desire is that each of my clients has a space to process their lives in a healthy way, learning to utilize tools that I was not aware of until my early 30s. I am also designing resources and retreats for non-profit and church ministry teams to use so that they may care for themselves well – another resource my family could have used.

My prayer is that each one is able to identify the Divine fingerprints along the way in their own journey, just as I have.

Questions to ponder:

• Has there been a source of pain in your life that you need to recognize, feel, and perhaps grieve? What is God’s invitation to you in this pain?

• In what ways can you be more authentic with your story? What obstacles come up for you with regard to this and how might you overcome them?