Depression: The Black Monster

I want this blog to be uplifting, so I try to post things that are happy. Today, I'd like to talk about something that's not super happy. BUT it will have a happy ending!

NOTE: I feel that I should share these experiences with you. Some of them are somewhat sacred to me, and I would ask that you would treat them with respect. 

I'm one of those people that has skin that blemishes easily. YAY. As I've thought about it though, it's been somewhat of a blessing. I'm a pretty vain person at times, and having less than desirable skin has kept me humble. ANYWAY. My sweet Mom wanted to help me out, so my freshman year of high school, I went on Accutane. I'm sure you've heard of it before--it's a headache and a hassle (especially for girls), but it's supposed to cure or drastically improve skin imperfections. I had been on it once before, and it worked--for a while. But it was necessary for me to be on it again. A few of the possible side effects of accutane are depression and psychosis. But as I had been on the meds before and was fine, I wasn't worried.

One night, a few days into taking the meds, I was having a conversation with my cousin/roommate. I was feeling really down, and wanted some advice. Unfortunately, something went wrong, and the conversation left me feeling worse than before (not my cousin's fault). After lying in bed for some time, I went out into the dark kitchen, my thoughts becoming too much for me to handle. 

That night was the darkest I had ever had, up to that point. I was feeling lost, scared, alone, and a little bit crazy. I kneeled on the cold floor and prayed, silently but fervently, that God would be with me. My tears came hard and fast as I prayed for relief, comfort, anything. But all I felt was cold emptiness. I did not feel God's presence. I was so desperate that I cried out to Jesus Christ, thinking that if God wouldn't have mercy on me, perhaps Christ would. But still, nothing. 

Obviously, I was doing something wrong. I wasn't worthy of heavenly help. I deserved to die. Those were the thoughts running through my head as I wept on the kitchen floor. After a few hours, I gave up, and went to bed. 

The next day, after a few phone calls, I figured out that I was having an adverse reaction to the Accutane. I stopped taking the meds, hoping that the depression and horrible thoughts and feelings would end. Unfortunately, the depression lasted for quite a while. To add to the problem, it was finals week. GREEAT. Incredibly, I managed to pass my finals despite my mental state. I chalk that one up to divine help...and the fact that most of my finals were art projects and not actual tests. (Perk of being an art major!!)

One night, I was by myself in my apartment, studying, when suddenly the depression hit me full force, like a tornado. I ended up in the corner of my room, curled up in the fetal position, crying like I had never cried before. I felt an awful darkness take over my body and soul. It was like there was a dementor in the room, sucking out every good memory and feeling I had ever had. (I love me some Harry Potter.)

I've had some pretty painful physical injuries. But nothing I've ever had could compare to the mental pain and anguish I felt that night. The only way to escape would be to end my own life. 

Suicide is a touchy, unpleasant subject for a lot of people, understandably so. I never ever would have thought that I would consider suicide in my lifetime. But when the turmoil and darkness in your brain is that bad, you are only interested in stopping the pain. Thoughts of who you would be affecting, or who you would be leaving behind aren't even part of the equation. It's mental torture, and since there's no way to escape your own brain, the logical explanation is to end your life.

Back to the night in my room. My sister, who had been working, came to my apartment just in time to save me. She literally had to hold me back to keep me from running to the kitchen and sticking a knife into myself. After I had calmed down a little, she called my parents, who sternly and firmly told me that although what I was going through was hard, I could fight it. They gave me encouraging advice, and before I hung up the phone, I told them in a quivering, tear-laced voice, "I can do this." 

I made it through my finals and went home to detox. After a few days, I was back to normal---for the most part. Since the Accutane debacle, depression has been a part of my daily life. I had to go on medicine to combat it, which helped a lot. 

Summer, 2011. I had been taking my medicine to battle my depression, but somehow, I forgot to refill my prescription and I stopped taking them. I was already having a rough summer, but going cold turkey off my pills sent me into a dark downward spiral. However, I did a little better at fending off the worst of the depression. 

I signed up for the Top of Utah Marathon, partly because I've always wanted to run a marathon ever since I lost my chance when I was 18. But the main reason for signing up for the race was to give myself something to live for. I needed something to work toward during the summer, otherwise I wouldn't have any reason to fight the depression. 

That summer was the worst. I didn't really talk to any of my friends, nor did I have the desire to. When I wasn't working, I was running or working out. I became a mad woman, obsessed with exercise. I pushed myself as hard as I could during workouts, because the physical pain was easier to handle than the mental pain. When I ran, I ran hard and fast, trying to run away from my mental anguish. Running distracted me, and kept me sane. Some days saw me working out twice or even three times, depending on how bad the depression was that day. 

Nights were the worst. I would hide in the corner of my closet and cry as that dark monster took over my thoughts. That summer, I prayed more fervently than I ever have. But as those with depression know, it's difficult to feel the presence of anything good or comforting when that darkness inhabits your mind and soul. I felt that God had completely abandoned me. It was a supreme struggle to even get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes people mistake depression for laziness. Depression is not laziness. When you are depressed, doing even simple tasks requires a huge amount of effort and willpower. You have to take each day a minute at a time. Laziness? No. Battling depression is just that--a battle. Though you might stay in bed all day, you are struggling and working just to keep yourself alive.

One day, I was alone in my apartment--something I tried not to let happen, for fear that I might harm myself. I was writing in my journal-something I did a lot that summer. I was sitting on the couch, when suddenly, I was possessed by a strong, dark urge to end my life. A cold, dark presence gripped my heart, and I was terrified. It was like an unknown power was putting these crazy thoughts into my head. I was completely alone. I didn't want to die, but I felt that there was no other choice. In complete agony and fear, I cried out to my God, hoping that He would hear me and help me this time. 

In my darkest moment, when I was seconds away from ending my precious existence, God sent me help. I felt an unseen presence gently, but firmly, hold me down on the couch. My brain was telling me to end my life, but I was physically incapable of getting off the couch. After a few moments, the gentle hold released, and I found that I no longer had the desire to end my life. My depression had lifted, and I felt the comfort of God's immense love for me. I was not cured--I still battled with depression for the rest of that summer, until I got my medicine back. But God allowed me to see and remember that He was there for me.

I had a hard time seeing God's presence in my life that summer. But as I look back, I can see that He never left me. My family in Logan and back at home saved me multiple times. I got a blessing from my wonderful brother-in-law and cousin, and I was able to live with my amazing sister, who looked after me and literally saved me many times. I wasn't planning on living with her, but God knew that I needed it. My parents and other family members prayed for me, and God protected me and watched over me. 

It's clear to me, through these and other experiences, that God has a plan for me. Part of that plan includes struggling with anxiety and depression. But He will always be there to help me through, whether I realize it or not. 

I have many family members that struggle with depression. I never understood it when I was younger, but now I do. It's hard to see someone you love and care about in pain. It's even harder when you can't see the problem, like you would see a physical ailment. Depression is hard as hell, and can make some days unbearable. But I know that it can be handled, and life can be a beautiful, wonderful thing, due to the Atonement of Christ. I don't fully understand the Atonement, but I know that Christ knows exactly what our darkest moments feel like, and He is always there for us. My family members that struggle with depression are great examples to me. They prove day after day that despite difficult trials, life can still be a thing of joy and goodness. 

My experiences with suicide have allowed me to see the world through different eyes. I appreciate the beauty of this Earth so much more than I did before. I have come to believe that the human mind has immense power to overcome difficulties. I still struggle with depression, and know that I will struggle with it for the rest of my life. But I also know that I will be able to experience things that few people will be able to experience. I will be happy and find joy in life, due in part to struggling with depression. 

Life is beautiful. Hard, yes. Definitely yes. But it's so worth the pain and struggle. God does not, nor will He ever, leave His children alone to fend for themselves. Even when you can't feel His presence, don't forget that!

Now go and have a happy Wednesday night. 

xoxo, Sara