Hi. So as the title may indicate this blog post has nothing
to do with China. But this is something that has been on my mind a lot this
month and I have had some time to reflect on my experiences with depression and
suicide. It’s a sensitive subject and something I think is misunderstood a lot;
I know it was for me for a long time. I just wanted to share a few thoughts I
had and a little about my story with depression. I’m going to leave a lot of
things out to try to keep it brief, but no promises.
As a child and young teenager I had heard about mental
illness, but honestly didn’t know what it was. Throughout high school I learned
about depression in my psychology classes and honestly thought it could be
something I suffered from, but always rejected the idea because no one wants to
have something wrong with them. Here’s why:
In my youth I spent a lot of time with negative emotions. I
was angry a lot, I was sad a lot, I was frustrated, self deprecating, and
disliked a lot of things around me. When something hard happened (death in the
family, a friend dropped me for someone better, poor grade on a test, someone
was especially rude, etc.) I couldn’t let it go. I was sad about if for a long
time. A lot of the time, I was sad for no reason at all. I would cry and cry
and cry and couldn’t understand why everyone around me could be so happy when I
felt like my world was crashing down, all the time.
I felt like something was wrong with me. I would go to
church and hear lessons about being of good cheer, service, and how happiness
was a choice. I even felt like some of the teachers and other kids in my class
would look at me and make comments that seemed to indicate they were talking
about me. I felt so small, confused, and disliked by others. I felt like no one
wanted me around, that I was a burden. Even though this wasn’t always true, it
was what I perceived, and unfortunately, for those with mental illness, our
negative perceptions about life are our reality.
During these difficult times, I would wonder what it would
be like if I died the next day. Would people care? Would they miss me? Would
they feel sorry for making me feel like I was worthless and that no one wanted
me? Sometimes I wished I would die.
So, when I learned about depression in my psychology
classes, can you see why I would think I possibly had depression?
Of course I turned down the idea. No one wants depression.
No one wants a debilitating illness. No one wants to suffer from something they
don’t understand.
So time goes on. I go to BYU for my freshman year and I
LOVED it. I was happier than I had ever been. But, even in my moments of true
joy, an hour later I could feel deep sorrow. I would cry because I was sad, for
no apparent reason. Again, there were people around me who were happy all the
time, and I couldn’t understand why I was so sad, even when things were good. I
still had the same thoughts about death, and wondered if I died, if people
would even care.
During this time Heavenly Father and I decided that I should
serve a mission, so as a 19 year old girl, one month after my freshman year
ends, I went. I was promised that I would receive greater joy than I had ever
experienced before in my life. Was that true? On occasion. Most of the time?
Definitely not, at least not for me.
Just as with every part of my life so far, there were some
missionaries who were happy all the time. ALL THE TIME. It was really hard for
me. By this point in my life, I had become well acquainted with the Savior and
learned that opposition was necessary and that progression could not be
achieved without affliction. I had learned that if we want to become like Jesus
Christ, we need to experience and acknowledge deep sorrow. And yet again, I
felt like some missionaries who, for whatever reason, got to be more happy than
I did, looked down on me for being sad.
About halfway through my mission my depression peaked. In
the past, prayer helped, I felt comfort from the Holy Ghost, and I could try to
look on the bright side and sometimes it would work. But, I reached the point
where all of that ended. All I could see and hear and feel was darkness. I felt
lost, alone and abandoned. And of course, I felt sad and confused. Confused as
to why when I was being more faithful and obedient than I had ever been in my
whole life, why it didn’t bring me joy.
I started to see an LDS Family Services Counselor and a
psychiatrist (loved them both by the way, they were awesome). I kept thinking that once I had enough
therapy or got on some medication, I would be fixed. This would all go away and
I could finish my mission happy and whole and everything would be good.
Wrong.
Days of waiting turned into weeks, weeks turned into months,
and I found my self asking my Heavenly Father why He wanted me stay on my
mission if He wouldn’t heal me. I tried so many different medications and none
of them helped. I lost all hope and faith. I would say to myself “If this is my
life, then I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want it. I wish I could cease to
exist.” Those are passive suicidal thoughts.
With even more time, I started to have active suicidal
thoughts. I wanted to die, I would think about ways I could do it, and I
couldn’t get them out. The darkness grew thicker and thicker. I would ask God
all the time if I should go home. The answer was always no.
Then, my mission was over. I finished. I thought “Awesome!
Now that I’m going home, my depression will go away, I won’t be suicidal
anymore, and everything will be good. I’ll go to BYU again, and I’ll be happy,
just like I was my freshman year.”
Wrong again.
Honestly, my depression got worse. I continued therapy and
trying different medications, but they never worked. I was tired. I wanted my
life to be over. I was sick of waiting.
So I dropped out of the semester and moved back home with my
family for several months. It was still rough. I felt like a failure. The
suicidal thoughts continued. But, we continued treatment. I found a new
therapist and a new psychiatrist. And guess what, after 18 months of bitter
sorrow, exceeding doubt, and immense darkness, I woke up one morning and I didn’t
want to die.
What? I had spent the last year and a half wishing that I
could disappear because that would be better than feeling this way for the rest
of my life. And then, out of nowhere, there was a light at the end of the
tunnel. There was hope that things could get better.
Over the rest of the summer, things got better. My thoughts
became more healthy, I felt more productive, and I planned on returning to
school in the fall.
I did. And it was all okay.
It has been very hard. I still have depression. I still have
to take medication. I fight every day to believe that my life has a purpose,
that people love me, and that I am capable of doing life. And I am still here.
I left A LOT of things out of this post. Mostly about the
spiritual experiences I had (they were few and far between, but I had them),
how much I have since realized my God WAS helping me (I just couldn’t see or
feel it), my friends and family who helped me along the way, and all of the
things I learned (believe me, I learned a TON). But that’s because the purpose
of this post was to talk about depression and my experience with suicidal
thoughts.
I am so grateful for the many examples in my life who have
showed me what endurance is, for my Savior Jesus Christ who has felt all of
this with me, and for my Heavenly Father who was always there. The church has
some amazing resources about suicide prevention and about help with mental
illness. Here is one of the websites:
Here are also a couple of Mormon Messages that I absolutely
love that talk about depression and suicide:
I firmly believe that God is a merciful God, that He knows
our circumstances, our thoughts, and the desires of our hearts. I believe He
takes into account all of the suffering we experience, especially those who
suffer from mental illness.
To all of my friends who suffer from mental illness, I LOVE
YOU! Oh my goodness I love you so much. If you have any questions for me,
PLEASE ask. And I’m sure I have some friends who I have no idea struggle with
it. To you I say: I may not know that you have it, but I do know that God
knows, and that He wants to help you.
Thanks for reading this extremely long essay. I love you!
