The Burdens We Carry

The other day my IPhone reprimanded me. I was heavy deep in a Dateline episode of a juicy small town love triangle gone deadly when I got this unwanted alert: 

Phone: 14 hours is your weekly screen-time average.

Me: (long existential pause) Dear God, I need help.

Busted and exposed, my robotic companion crossed the line. Somewhere our symbiotic relationship soured, it- the parent, I- the teen. I blurted, “Come on, I’ve been Christmas shopping!” But it knew. How could I argue with a micro genius computing one step ahead of my carnal ways. 

And really, 14 hours is way too much slack unaccounted for. That’s fleeting time in YouTube celeb gossip. Time in choosing skincare tutorials over potty training my toddlers. Precious time a billionaire on his deathbed can’t buy, but I splurged it on Buzzfeed surveys. 

Now, don’t judge. Last year, tech journal, INC, reported, “the average person spends over four hours a day on their device…and half of that time is spent on social media platforms.”

So why? Why are we amusing ourselves with distractions?

Distractions are escape hatches. I realized this when my close friend, Kim called me up to check on me. Two months ago, I moved from Detroit to Portland, leaving behind everyone. And she asked, “How are you managing loneliness?”  “Really well.”, I said. 

But my cyborg reckoning revealed the truth: I was lonely. And thinking about my close friends and family hurt, so I distracted myself. Poured my time into pausing the pain with online fluff. 

The thing is, pain is eventual. Pain can’t be put off, it just prolongs. It plays dead, a catatonic wound that’s crusted over, but deep down it’s lingering, waiting to surface. 

Small pain, big pain we distract ourselves, but if it’s eventual, how do we handle it?

Meet Sophia

There’s an ease when you’re with Sophia. You’ll never carry the conversation. While most have little to add, Sophia elaborates. She’s one of the few people who knows what’s happening. In a big room, she knows what everyone is talking about, so she can easily slip into a conversation without annoyance. She has an encyclopedic knowledge of trending pop culture, a great vocabulary, and rapier wit. With this, she picks up on subtle things, and engages with empathy. 

But if you really know Sophia, you know her tenacity. And so, I love her grit and virtue. At 18, she’s carried heavy burdens. It’s almost like she’s already lived the lives of three people, maybe this is why she’s so wise. I needed to know how someone so young can press on through pain. 

Julie: You and your family are so strong, but I want to be sensitive. Could you provide context to your trauma?

Sophia: Sure, and it’s cool. So I’m adopted, and my mom and dad are the best. Like I don’t have that adopted runway desire. In fact, as a kid, everything was perfect, and being an only child, my parents totally doted on me. Of course, you have doubts. Even in elementary, I was bullied. But my parents said something that has always stuck with me: ‘Just think Sophia, those parents got stuck with those kids, but we choose you.’  

Julie: I love that. I heard your parents even take out a newspaper ad every year?

Sophia: Yes. Every Mother’s Day, they place an ad thanking my birth mom for choosing adoption. And then they would describe how much I mean to them.  

Julie: Wow, that’s real love. 

Sophia: Yeah, they’re awesome. So basically everything felt perfect up until the car crash. 

Julie: I was in college and remember getting a phone call to pray for your family.  

Sophia: I was so young, and a drunk driver smashed head-on into the car carrying my dad, grandma, and aunt. I was in the car right behind them, and saw everything. The impact was devastating. My dad survived, but I lost my grandma and aunt. 

Julie: I’m sorry and can’t imagine how you dealt with this. 

Sophia: I had therapy, but life didn’t get easier. By my 8th grade year, we saw that my mom was noticeably different. At first I thought she was just acting strange, but you need to know, my mom was so put together. Quick, funny, stylish, she never missed a beat. Like everyday she’d pick me up from school, and at home she’d have a snack waiting for me. She was crazy successful at her job, and yet she’d drop everything for me. We were so close, and I could always count on her. But then the forgetfulness became regular. And with time, she was diagnosed with Dementia. 

Dementia, a chronic brain syndrome characterized by steady loss in memory, speech, and mood shifts. It’s a condition mostly seen in elderly, but Sophia’s mom was healthy and young. It didn’t add up. And no matter the diagnosis, Sophia’s family remained steadfast. They possessed a fortitude built on faith and love. 

Julie: It’s hard to grapple this as an adult, how did you cope?

Sophia: Honestly, not well. In that time, I lost a close friend, and I hit a low point when my mom forgot my birthday. It was like that definitive proof I was avoiding. Everything gave me anxiety. I couldn’t go to school, and when asked, I kept telling people, “I’m fine”. While I hadn’t cried in three years. 

Julie: What was your psychiatrist recommending?

Sophia: I was seeing one of the top psychiatrists in the state. But all he did was prescribe pills. Pills for anti-depressants, pills for waking up, pills for going to sleep. And those pills just numbed my emotions. I didn’t want to feel the pain of reality, so I escaped. I escaped by bing-watching Youtube or staying up through the night on social media. I hated my life, yet deep down I knew I wanted to change. 

And like that, something clicked. That instinctive call to change, a sort of fire alarm hard-wired up to heaven- rung. A sounding alarm awakening our numbness to who we are, to what we were made for. 

Julie: As I look at your life now: a good job, active in church, great circle of friends, cool boyfriend...how’d you get here?

Sophia: I got tired of being depressed. I got tired of taking the pills. I got tired of constant social media. The process was slow, but I started slowly disconnecting, and engaging more with my awesome Dad, friends, and church community. 

Julie: How did engaging with friends help?

Sophia: My friends are everything, and from counseling, I learned it's okay to lean into the pain. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to set boundaries. My friends and family love me for me. Plus I’m not alone, they have pain too, so we’re all just crazy there for each other.

Julie: How can someone lean into pain but have faith to press on?

Sophia: Some have offered spiritual advice of “You need to believe that God can still do miracles”. As if I don’t know that. Everyday I pray for her, and find peace. I know my mom would want me to move forward. In fact, she would be so annoyed if we all stop our lives for her. She’s selfless like that. So to walk by faith, isn’t denying pain. Many evenings, I’ll cry in the shower, give in into my pain for a moment. In the mornings, I’ll pray, listen to worship music, and then get on with my day. So this is how I carry on. This is how I overcome. 

A Culture of Pain Avoidance

How do you overcome pain? Shift your engagement. As Sophia shifted away from distractions toward authentic relationships, she found the confidence to carry on.  

We live in a culture of pain avoidance, and social media is making it worse. 

Two years ago Facebook co-founder, Sean Parker, made headlines by explaining that the company set out to consume as much user time as possible, he claimed the success of Facebook was by "exploiting a vulnerability in human psychology".

What’s the vulnerability in humans that social media exploits? Pain. Our world is organized around reducing pain, but pain is the body's way of telling the brain that something’s wrong. When we’re in pain, we’re reminded that we can’t go on like normal. We need to stop, and fix the problem. 

Society has entire industries around selling anesthetics, narcotics, amusements, distractions, and other ways to numb the pain. But there’s a fascinating lack of painkillers in the scriptures. Instead, many times we see those giving into pain, and God commanding us to support each other. 

A Call to Carry

Galatians 6:2 reminds us to, “carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” And so, the biblical solution to pain is not going around pain solo, but through it carried by friends and family. 

Do you remember reading Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead? It’s a popular story. Preachers love preaching about it, and congregations love hearing about it. But, there’s a little piece that often gets overlooked. I was thinking about this as I interviewed Sophia. 

Just after being called Lazarus out of the grave, Jesus told the family to, “take off the grave clothes and let him go.” When you think about it, it’s a strange request. In this passage we see Jesus performing the most impossible miracle: raising the dead to life. And yet, he left him in the grave clothes. Why? Don’t you think giving Lazarus a shiny new outfit would have fitted the grand entrance? Jesus turned water into wine, couldn’t he turn burlap into Burberry?

But he doesn’t, and I think it’s because Jesus wanted Lazarus’ family and friends to be part of the miracle. Their job was to carry the grave clothes. And that’s what we have to do as Christian sisters. Sometimes—most times actually—I don’t know what to say, do, or even the right words. But that doesn’t mean we can’t help unwrap grave clothes. We can’t always remove the pain, but we can be present with those in pain. We can carry their burdens until the miracle is complete. 

Hopefully, you never have to go through such a painful experience that Sophia had to walk through. But I know one thing for certain, you will go through your own painful experiences. What will you do when you feel pain? Will you numb it with social media, alcohol, reckless friendships that distract you, a trip to Vegas maybe? Or will you gather up some good friends and family and face it head-on? 

That’s what Sophia did. Sophia found strength, because she found a group strong enough to carry her burdens.