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.

On how I overcome feeling alone...

Sometimes I think people only imagine that the devil comes to us in big things. You know what I mean, right? That we will meet our demise or downfall through things like drugs, murder, or violence.

While these things obviously lead to problems, I think the devil is in the little things.

If the devil were to conquer me, I do not think it would be with alcohol or beating someone up. If I am conquered, it will be because I have been convinced that I am alone.

Actually, maybe that is not so small?

Most of my life I have felt alone.

In daycare, I remember struggling to connect and make friends.

In high school and college, I felt the same way. I would talk someone and struggle to feel a of connection.

The need to feel connected is a God give desire.

Feeling alone is often just that – a feeling; it is seldom a reality. 

I feel alone, but at any moment, I have a dozen people I can call and ask for help.

Regardless of this reality, my perception has led to some dark times. I have struggled with bouts of depression, paralyzing anxiety, and when I was in college – a suicide attempt.

This last year has not been helpful. In mid-2015, my church campus closed (I wrote about that here), and a few months ago I was diagnosed with Celiac disease (and I wrote about that here). Losing a church campus feels lonely. Learning to adapt to a disease where you cannot eat food others are consuming feels lonely. In spite of being surrounded by people – I feel alone.

This morning I woke up and felt lonely. My brain was telling me to stay at home and sulk. But if you want to grow loneliness – you feed it with being alone. If you want to grow connection – you feed it by being around good people.

Instead of sulking, I drove to church. I was going to sit alone, but instead, I forced myself to sit by some friends.

When I feel alone, I try to overcome it by remembering these three things.

First, I remember to pick up the damn phone. Instead of sitting in silence, I call out to someone I love. I call my mother and tell her I miss her. I call my friend Brandy and ask her about her day. I message my friend Bri and see how she is doing. Honestly, I forget to do this - ALL the time, but I am trying to be better.

Second, I try to realize that my struggle with feeling alone comes from a place of pain. I feel alone because I do not want to let others in because I feel like I have been hurt by a lot of people. When I married Del I put in my vows ‘I vow to let you love me.’ I am surrounded by people that try to love me, but I struggle to let them. I fear that if I let them in, they will only hurt me. Since marrying Del, and learning to let someone love me, I am starting to overcome that. But its hard. Every day it is hard.

Third, I reflect on the fact that even if I lost everything I would still have God. If my friends go away, if my husband dies, and if my church is gone – God still remains (for the record - I would prefer to have those things stick around). I am a child of God. God dwells in me. At any moment, at any time, He is with me. When I am alone, I try to remember Him. With Him, I am never really alone. And if I am never really alone, the devil can never conquer me.

On depression... round...???

If you’re ever struggled with depression for a long time, you don’t wonder why people commit suicide.

I know that’s morbid.

Mina Brees was 59-years-old when she committed suicide from a prescription drug overdose. I don’t know a lot about Mina Brees (Mina was the mother of Saints’ quarterback Drew Brees). I know she was an attorney in Austin. I know she was intelligent and people say she was charming. But when I first heard that she had committed suicide, I wondered about how she lived? Did she struggle with depression? For how long? What was the last straw? I don’t know the answers to those questions. But when I hear of an older person who has made the decision to end their life, I assume they struggled with the monster that is depression.

Alcoholism is a disease that persists. Some people struggle with alcoholism for a short time, and then conquer it. However, many people struggle with the urge to consume alcohol for their entire lives.

My experience with depression is chronic. I was diagnosed with depression when I was in 8th grade. Since that time I’ve had a half-dozen or so bouts of depression. One bout lasted a year, another lasted only three months.

Depression is exhausting. It feels like there is a giant weight on me. I try to move, and it holds me down. I try to think, and it holds me back. My body hurts all of the time. I haven’t slept soundly in weeks. I’m exhausted from fighting something that won’t seem to go away. I feel ridiculous that I have to tell people again that my depression feels like its winning.

This time, my bout has been going on for about four months. It started slow. I noticed I was feeling anxious at work, and felt scared to talk in front of people. My depression has progressed to calling into work ‘sick,’ avoiding large social situations (if I can), and trying to stay away from people. This week at work I had to go to the bathroom six times to cry in the stall.

Frankly, I’m just fucking tired. I’m tired of fighting this. I’m tired of the waves.

Last week my mom came to visit, and she spent a lot of time taking care of me.

Last night, my husband held me while I melted down into nothingness.

If my depression could be healed by thinking of nice things, I would’ve started investing in puppy stickers a while ago.

If this mental pain could be healed by prayer alone, my words to Jesus would’ve saved me years ago.

If my anxiety would go away with hugs and kisses, then the time my mom spent holding me Saturday should’ve healed my tired nerves.

If my faith were enough to save me from this, this weight would’ve been lifted a while ago.

I try to imagine all of the good things that come from having depression. When I think of the best thing, I think of Darl from As I Lay Dying. "Life was created in the valleys. It blew up into the hills on the old terrors, the old lusts, the old despairs. That's why you must walk up the hills so you can ride down." You never really know a peak, until you’ve been in a valley. And if you’ve never really been in a valley… well… you know the rest.

I lay in this valley. The only way to get back up – is to climb. I’m so fucking sick of climbing. Can’t someone else just pull me up? Whatever… here I am. Climbing again. Step by step. When I reach the crest, I know I will rejoice in the glory (1 Peter 4: 12-13). The sun will be bright again. The sky will shine in glory. It’s hard to see the glory from the bottom, but I know it’s there. I will walk up.

On this depression…

I have depression. 

For years I have only talked to family and close friends about my depression.  For the most part, I keep my depression private.  However, within the last few days someone I love has been hit with depression.  So now – I am out.  I plan on staying out.

My depression hit when I was in 8^th grade.  My mother found me hiding underneath a counter in our bathroom.  I still do not know why, but I could not move.  My mother had to coax me out.  Two weeks later, I was seeing a counselor for major depression.  I had a good home life.  No one had hurt me.  I had depression.  In 8^th grade, I began taking anti-depressants.  It was hard on my family.

When I was a freshman in college, I tried to kill myself.  I swallowed a bunch of pills with a bottle of vodka.  My friend (thanks Shane) found me and carried me to the hospital.  Because I tried to kill myself I had to spend three days in a mental hospital where I received a TON of medicine and a TON of therapy.  I tried to kill myself because I felt alone and like I had no support.  My father called me crying and asked me, “Stephanie, can you please never do this again?”  My suicide attempt hit my father the hardest.

Two years ago depression hit me again.  I was in a rough marriage and again felt alone.  One day I sat on my bathroom floor and cut my legs again and again until the blood ran over the bathroom floor.  I decided to see a counselor.  I started taking medicine again.  This is the first time I have ever admitted to cutting.

Depression is like alcoholism.  It is real.  It is hard.  And when it hits – it hits hard.  I, most likely, have a chemical imbalance.  Due to that imbalance, if I do not monitor how I am doing I am susceptible to bouts of depression.

However, I am still alive.  Frankly, there is no reason I should still be here today.  I should have died my freshman year of college.  But by the grace of God – and because of the love of family and friends – I am here today.

So what do I do?  What do I do to live with this?

First, I admit that this is a problem for me.  If an eighth grader has depression but has a good home life – odds are they are not a miserable sinner being punishing by Satan. Thinking that mental illness is caused only by sin is STUPID, and does nothing to address the problem.  My depression is difficult, but it is not more than me.  It is a part of me, but it is not all of me.  I am bigger than this. 

Second, I accept help.  I see a counselor if I need to.  I take medicine if I have to (by God’s grace I have been off medicine for over a year!!!).  I let my friends (thanks Bri) or family (thanks Mom) call me every day if I need it.

Third, I understand that I cannot do this alone.  I talk to God.  I talk to friends.  I talk to family.  I have a great group of people who are here for me.  It is really hard sometimes, but when I need help – I have learned to ask.

I hope for two things when it comes to depression.

First, I hope that people stop being such judgmental jerk faces about it.  Less than a month ago I heard a co-worker bash counseling and say that going to a counselor makes you “Weak.”  That mentality, in my opinion, is what pushes people toward suicide.  Depression is real.  It is a problem.  People need to see that.

Second, I hope that people can find ways to live with depression as I have.  It is manageable.  People will help.  God is there and will always be there.  Depression is big, but it does not have to be bigger than any person. 

If you have been judging people with depression – stop.  Depression is real.  And people with depression often feel alone.

If you have depression – stop.  Find help.  Depression is real.  And you do not have to do this alone.

Thanks to all of my family and friends who have been with me over the years.  And of course, thanks to God.  For grace.  For life.  For second chances.