On the purpose of my depression...

I never talked to Kyle again after that day. After the day I hugged him.

Kyle, Del and I just sat in the mental health ward.

After few minutes Kyle looked at us and said, “Are you guys – like – religious? Because I think God sent you yesterday.”

That moment. That phrase. Those words – made everything worth it. 

They made it worth Prozac, Wellbutrin, and Celexa. They made it worth swallowing pills, and almost driving off a bridge. They made it worth my trip to a mental ward. They made it worth depression, anxiety, and OCD. They made it worth thousands of dollars in therapists and hospitals.

I often wondered the “Why?” of it all. So much suffering in a world of “Just be happy.” Days of crying and laying around in pain, and wondering why I can’t move.

Kyle drove his truck into a tree to try to kill himself.

He had a hard life, and the trigger of a cheating girlfriend was too much.

I get that. I had been there. It isn’t the girlfriend – it’s feeling alone.

In that moment, death feels like it could be better than pain.

So when I pulled Kyle from his truck – I knew what to say.

When I walked Kyle to the curb – I knew what to do.

When I held Kyle and he cried – I knew to let him cry.

When I prayed with Kyle as the ambulance came – I knew what to pray.

And when we visited Kyle in the mental health ward – I knew what to do.

I always wondered how I would react if I had to go back to a mental health ward. Would I break down? Would it be too much?

I didn’t break. It wasn’t too much. It felt safe, just like it did 10 years ago.

And when Kyle said, “God sent you” I knew he was right.

It seems so trite, but I saved a life that day.

Just like a friend saved mine ten years ago. When God called, my friend answered. Now it was my turn. 

Hopefully, one day, Kyle will do the same. I think he will. I know he will. And after he does, I'm sure he'll know that it was worth it too.