2013 & Not Dying (Revised)

A past and present chronic depression

I’m sharing this essay 12 years after not dying, but it was originally written a few years ago. If you want to know where my mental health advocacy started, it began when a 21-year-old woman felt hopeless the week of Halloween. Some updates since that time:

» My prayer remains answered: despite depression having recurred through my 20s, I have never desired to kill myself following that prayer leaving inpatient treatment.

» Electromagnetic therapy did work. I documented my skepticism and victory here. I’m still unsure why more people don’t know about this option, but I suspect it’s because of Big Pharma loving to keep us medicated.

» I am here to answer any questions about my story. Praise God. Depression and faith can coexist. Science and faith can coexist. Suffering and joy can coexist!

This personal essay contains mentions of suicide and alcohol that may be difficult for somebody to read if they’ve struggled. However, I have decided to share my story year after year to help create awareness of the enduring hope and battle within mental health disorders. Thank you for reading my heart.

Midjourney art: My Mental Illness

Catalysts

Ten years ago, when I was 21 years old, my life felt worthless. My fiancé had broken things off over a plate of spaghetti dinner I’d made and I still recall the grainy 2013 instagram post that showed the pasta and white wine with a caption about gratitude just minutes before he came home.

I crumbled completely.

I moved back home to Ohio within the week to my mother's arms, so ready to try and fix everything, and selfishly left my belongings in the Seattle apartment to be picked up by a friend and by family.

I spent a week in my childhood bedroom (completely redesigned with a futon) rereading every book from Harry Potter and then proceeded to write a list on how to fix my life.

It included short term goals and long term goals like getting enough money saved to buy a ticket back to Seattle. I found particular pride in scoring a job in retail within the month and one month after hiring I was promoted to assistant manager.

I grew up in what they call “The Rust Belt” of the United States, which surrounds the Great Lakes on a map, but what I closely associated with “working hard and playing hard” until you retire or die from liver damage or heart disease.

This Midwest way of living was the theology I turned to when I came back to the small town I grew up in and I threw back my own brand of communion after every work day with self-assurance and relief.

October brought an onset of colder weather, frequent peppermint mochas, and me hiding behind the facade that being busy meant I was moving forward with my life. The reality was I was constantly self-medicating: caffeine would get me out of bed and drinking would put me back to sleep.

I chopped off my hair like most women do after terrible breakups but that act of “freedom” was more a maintenance decision; I had no energy to wash or style my hair most days.

Psychosis

By the end of October things were catching up with me in a bigger way. My desire to eat food was gone. My ability to get out of bed was diminished. It felt like the shadows inside my core were pinning me to the bed.

Things started to feel like a dream. I don’t mean this is in a positive or cliche way. My eyesight was blurred, my head was a fog, and my voice got quieter. Faking it for social interaction at work, with family, or at the bar was becoming a monumental effort.

The night before I tried to die I was standing next to the refrigerator.

Our kitchen was more like an L shaped hallway and I was in the doorway at the short end of it. I recall looking at the large desk calendar on the side of the refrigerator while my dad made dinner.

“Can you pinch me? I feel like I’m dreaming.”

My mom pinched my left arm and said, “well you’re definitely not.”

I sent myself to bed, where I contemplated the types of pain or sleeping meds I’d find in my mothers bedside drawer. I decided tomorrow I’d look and fall asleep forever.

Red lights

I don’t recall most of the next morning but I remember suddenly finding myself driving myself to work. It felt shocking that I had been in bed and found my body in the seat while I drove on the highway. I had no recollection of getting there.

I looked at the metal side barriers of the highway and wondered if I’d die quick enough if I drove into the ditch below. I immediately felt guilty for causing my mother’s vehicle damage.

I ran through two red lights without flinching. There wasn’t a thought to the action and consequences; my reflects were slow.

I found myself in the same Starbucks I always went to and realized in line that I couldn’t read the menu. I closed my eyes for a second and tried again. Blurry.

I unlocked the car and locked myself inside. I looked out into the street and called my mother. She was already 30 minutes away in Cleveland headed to work.

The words came out slow like I had a mouth full of goo: I want to die.

Or maybe I said I needed to go to the emergency room, which is where she brought me shortly after the call.

Ten Years Later

I find myself waiting to start an electromagnetic depression therapy to mark the decade anniversary of my new life. For the next seven weeks I’ll be coming in for brief ten minute sessions that will hopefully ease the torment from my chronic depression. Six hours from now I’ll continue my trauma informed therapy sessions that will help tackle the pain I’ve been holding on to.

After I spent 74 painful hours in a psychiatric ward that forced me to be medicated heavily and almost didn’t let me go home, I found myself praying to God.

I never want to be dishonest about my mental health again. I never want to feel like I should kill myself again.

He kept that promise to me but my depression hasn’t fully stopped. If you’ve read the newsletters of the past month you’d know the ups and downs that I’ve faced. Why do I still suffer?

I am a firm believer that my experiences with suffering have made me a more compassionate and empathetic human. I understand Jesus a little more clearly when I am aching in physical or mental pain. I do not chase these things but they surely make me chase Him.

The world is broken. We all know this truth even if we don’t call it sin. We all know the feeling within our bones of aching as well as what it means to hold out for justice and hope. How sweet it is that God has always found a way to take our dark circumstances and fight them with light. How beautiful to see how my life in Christ has changed every single hardship for me!

So I leave you with this encouragement from Ephesians, the letter from the Bible that helped draw me out of my darkness.

“But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭5‬:‭13‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

https://bible.com/bible/59/eph.5.13-17.ESV