September is Suicide Prevention Month

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:

https://www.lds.org/preventingsuicide/?lang=eng

Here are also a couple of Mormon Messages that I absolutely love that talk about depression and suicide:

https://www.mormonchannel.org/watch/series/mormon-messages/like-a-broken-vessel

https://www.mormonchannel.org/watch/series/mormon-messages/sitting-on-the-bench-thoughts-on-suicide-prevention

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!