I do not write this story for pity, or even concern for me at all! I am writing from a place of peace and contentment. My purpose in sharing this is two-fold:
1- Those who have never experienced such feelings can have a glimpse at what it is like, so they might be greater support to those who are struggling, and
2- Those who are in the middle of this mess, being beat down every day, feeling as though they are losing their war, know IT CAN BE WON. There IS happiness in the future. You do NOT have to give in.
I Almost Lost
I had been doing counseling for a couple of months. We were working through some things productively; however, my depression was getting stronger and stronger.
The summers are hot in Arkansas … hot, muggy, and mosquito-infested. Sheldon was working long days, sometimes 12-14 hours at a time. I was pregnant, exhausted, in a home with septic system problems and sinking floors – doing my best to keep the house clean, two energetic toddlers fed and attended to – all without a dishwasher. Several of my closest friends had moved away in the previous months. While I had others, I wasn’t feeling very sociable anyway.
Every day was a struggle. Just getting the motivation to make dinner was a fight. Needless to say, any depression that accompanied my pregnancy due to hormones or PTSD (from the accident) had an ideal environment to thrive, despite my efforts to keep it at bay.
I like to think of my depression as something similar to “The Host” in the Stephanie Meyer book. It gets inside your brain and just takes over. You’re still there, pushing back as hard as you can, but it’s always there bearing down with negativity, hopelessness, and self-loathing.
It was extra strong one day. Or perhaps I was weak one day, it doesn’t quite matter. The result was the same. I almost lost my life that Friday.
My family had gotten together for a mini reunion in Utah. Everyone would be there at one point – even my brother who had been gone on a two-year mission – except for me. Buying flights didn’t seem like wisest thing to do, financially. But that also meant that the people I would usually call to break up the monotony and keep me out of my head were ALL TOGETHER. Any phone call I made would be accompanied by jealousy and loneliness.
Each Friday I drove 18 minutes to teach piano lessons, and this week it became the drive of my life. I had been dealing with little bits of suicidal and self harm thoughts in the weeks leading up to this point, but knowing I was missing out on a family party (that they all appeared to be enjoying without me) put me in a dangerous position. The first obstacle was an intersection where the cross traffic drove 60 miles an hour. “Just do it there” my “Host” told me. “It could be quick, you certainly wouldn’t survive it, it’s perfect.” NO. I fought back. I couldn’t do that. My light was green anyway.
The next obstacle was a semi truck driving my direction at 45 miles an hour. “That will be good too! Just casually cross that line just in time. No way to survive that.”
Then it was the freeway and the miles of concrete barriers and the street lights just calling for me to run into them.
Each second was a battle between me and my Host. I was getting tired and so, SO sick of fighting. I had spent months coping with all the usual strategies: exercise, service, healthy foods, getting out of the house, counseling, praying, etc. And here I was in the fight of my life, not seeing any end in sight. I was exhausted. When I got to the last portion of my drive in a 25 mph neighborhood, I knew I had won the battle for the time being. But now more than ever, I knew the Host would win the war one day. I immediately began to think of other ways to give in and am grateful my life wasn’t full of options.
The irony of this whole thing is that I spent YEARS praying I would never get in an accident again, or that if I did I would just die. I never wanted to live through that again. And here I was wanting to get in an accident. Here I was, thinking about putting myself in one. It was as if my PTSD, anxiety, and depression all came together against me.
I didn’t let myself drive alone again for a long time. Week after week, Sheldon would load the kids up and take me to my piano lessons, and anywhere else I needed to go. I went through my house looking for anything that could harm me and had it removed.
I did not win the war that day, but I got one day closer to winning. I chose to stay when it seemed so much easier not to. The days afterward weren’t magically better, but choosing to stay on that drive gave me the strength to find help, which weakened that voice.
If any of my readers are feeling this way now:
Choose to stay when it is the hardest.
One day you will smile again, and you will feel that smile in your soul. One day you will laugh again! You will feel loved again! You will love yourself again. It will be okay.
But for now, just choose to stay.
