I remember starting my practicum in graduate school feeling angry.

My professors were about to set me loose to see clients for the first time and while I knew theories, techniques, and foundational skills of counseling, I did not know how to cure someone’s depression or anxiety. You know…what I thought I had gone to school to learn.

There was so much practicum Julie did not yet know or understand and one of those things is that there is no guaranteed “cure” for depression or anxiety.

It might feel controversial to read that. I feel controversial writing it.

I’m a firm believer in medications and therapy, which I hope is obvious by now. And I wholeheartedly believe they are effective at alleviating and/or mitigating symptoms. I’ve experienced the efficacy of therapy and medication in both my personal and professional experience.

But what I’ve also learned both through personal and professional experience, is that while for some lucky folks depression and anxiety can be temporary afflictions or episodic, for most of us, we live with it (in some form or another, to some degree or another) daily over our lifetimes.

We can feel shame when we admit that. What are we doing wrong that this continues to be something we struggle with? We hear another sermon or read another Christian book about trusting the Lord with our fear, and we wonder why we don’t feel better when we pray about our fears or “surrender” (whatever that means) them to him. What is wrong with us?

Last night, I could not fall asleep because I felt panicky. Nothing was off, I wasn’t worried about anything in particular, I just felt wide awake and my heart beating really fast. During my (brief) quiet time this morning, I was reflecting on this feeling of panic, and thinking about how wonderful it will be when there is no more panic, no more anxiety. I believe that feeling fear can be protective – we’re hiking in the woods, see a bear, and feel afraid. This fear tells us to stay alert, take safety precautions to protect ourselves. The fear in and of itself is useful, it’s not bad, despite feeling distressing. But just feeling anxious or afraid when there is no threat present is a pretty awful side effect of living in a broken world.

So maybe that it’s not that we’re doing therapy wrong or not using our coping skills correctly or not trusting God enough. Maybe it’s that we’re sinful, flawed human beings living in a broken world. Anxiety and depression are results of living in this broken world.

Okay, so if we ascribe to that truth, it makes sense that our emotional and mental health is far from perfect and can cause some serious problems if we’re not diligent in caring for it. But, much like practicum Julie, we can ascribe to some pretty rigid opinions and/or severe judgments about the presence of particular emotions and how to “get rid” of them.

What I had to learn was that there is no on/off switch to depression and/or anxiety. Again, huge fan of medications and evidenced-based treatments! Definitely believe in and can attest to their efficacy! Highly recommend! But they do not necessarily completely “cure” us to the point where we will never feel anxious or depressed ever again. Not in this world, not in this lifetime. We have to learn how to live our lives when the switch is flipped to “on.”

What does this mean? We allow our difficult emotions to exist. When I talk about this with clients, I’m sometimes looked at like I have two heads. “You want me to accept what? Isn’t that why I’m coming here? To learn how to get rid of this anxiety?”

When we talk about allowing our difficult feelings to exist, we’re not talking about throwing our hands up in surrender, giving up any hope of ever living our lives the way we are called to, and sitting on our couches in the dark for the rest of our lives. We’re talking about dropping our judgment of those emotions. Acknowledging the reality that we do live in a fallen, broken world where anxiety and depression exist. That no matter how hard we try, no matter how much we pray, there is still a chance that we will experience difficult emotions and/or mental illness at some point in our future.

When I learned to allow my feelings to simply exist, I did not feel instantly better. I did feel a weight lifted. The weight of white knuckling, avoiding, trying to figure out, reassure myself – that was lifted from my shoulders. I still find myself going back to those rigid practices from time to time now, but recognizing that I’m struggling against these difficult feelings helps me reorient towards them. I can say, “I see you, anxiety.” I can notice thoughts going through my head. I can soften my body. I can offer myself compassion that anxiety sucks and then consider what I want to do next. These anxious feelings can come with me to the playground with my kids. They can hang out while I make dinner. By choosing to continue doing what matters to me while allowing my anxiety to hang out, I’m telling my anxiety that it does not have power over me. If I judge myself for feeling anxious or try to make it go away by some means, I’m now turning my attention to getting rid of it, which ironically, strengthens its power all the more.

It might seem counterintuitive, but when we accept that our difficult feelings are not problems to be “fixed,” but entities we learn how to live alongside, a whole new world can open up.