Don't Close the Book in the Middle

Yesterday's post had a good message, and an important one. Unfortunately, it was also me stalling because I didn't want to write this one. I was convicted weeks ago to talk on this topic, and instead of heading to the computer, I hid. So yesterday, as I waxed on about not being afraid, a big part of me was talking to myself about this post. And with that, here I am.

Trigger warning: if you do not want to read about the time I planned my suicide, please do not read any further.

Hope is a fragile thing. It can work wonders, and it's hard to kill, but it can at times become so dim that we just don't see it anymore. We stop looking. We believe that things will never get better, that now is all there is. We are told so often to live in the now, and sometimes we forget that looking to the future can be life saving.

I lost sight of my hope when I was just eleven years old. And please, don't scoff and say that an eleven year old has nothing to be depressed about, or that I was just being melodramatic. That was the year my depression and anxiety began. And while I'm willing to share this story, I'm not willing to explain why just yet. Just know that some kids have plenty that can lead them down this particular path. Despair isn't singular to adults.

I was in a bad place, and I thought I would always be there. In the meantime, I felt useless. I was unhappy, and I thought I couldn't do anything right. I felt like a burden to the people around me. If they didn't have to worry about me, they'd be so much better off. I figured everyone would win this way - my pain would stop, and no one would have to deal with me anymore.

I knew exactly how I would do it. I knew where I could obtain pills and alcohol, and I planned to combine as much of both as I could. I knew what I would wear. That I would go to the bathroom first, having at least enough biological knowledge to want my family to have to deal with as little postmortem mess as possible. I would lie down in my bed, I would go to sleep, and I would never wake up.

In the days leading up to my plan, three things finally stopped me. One, I believed that those who committed suicide went to hell, and no matter how bad my life was, I figured that was worse. At least a little. Two, there was someone close to me who also suffered from depression, and I thought they might blame themselves and follow me. I didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's death. My third reason will sound weird given my age at the time, but I was hit with the realization that any children I was supposed to have wouldn't have a chance to be born if I died.

So I didn't do it. Instead, I spent the next few years simply wishing the universe would take care of things for me. A fall down the stairs that would break my neck. A bus whose brakes were a little too slow. A random aneurysm to take me in my sleep. Morbid, to be sure, but I truly wanted to die. That death wish didn't end until I almost did die in a car accident my senior year of high school. I realized that if I survived that, God must have something in mind for me.

In the time since then, I met and married my wonderful husband. I had a beautiful daughter who brings joy to everyone around her. I'm starting my non-profit, I submitted a children's book to a publisher, I became an aunt to three amazing kids, I became close to my sister, I passed the bar exam my first try, and I've met wonderful people.

None of the above seemed possible to me when I was 11. Or even 17. I could only see part of the picture, and I didn't like that part. I had a pile of puzzle pieces, but I didn't have the box top to go off of. The point is, we can't always see outside of our immediate circumstances. But you can't know the ending to a book by chapter 3. You can't know the ending to a movie 20 minutes in (ok, sometimes you can - some plots are super predictable). So don't close the book. Don't stop the movie. Don't end your life. I am living proof that things do change. I can't promise you that your circumstances will be oh so much better. I can't know that. But they might change. And your heart can change. The thing that makes you feel like you want to live might be just around the corner. If you close your eyes now, you'll miss it.

Please, if you feel the way that I felt, find help. Talk to a friend, talk to a counselor. Talk to me - I'm not certified in anything, but I've been there. Contact these people and let them guide you. Above all, know that you are not alone.

Veggie Tales Had it Right

There's a Veggie Tales short about a little boy who's scared after watching a monster movie. Larry and Bob (as well as the veggie who plays the monster in the movie) show up to remind the boy that "God is bigger than the boogieman, and he's watching out for you and me." It's adorable, as are most Veggie Tales stories, and it has a good point. When our children are scared, it helps them to hear that there's someone who can vanquish all the monsters. It tells them "You are safe - the monster can't get you."

It's easy to tell our children that. After all, monsters aren't real. Except for one small point - they are. It's just that as we get older, the monsters change. No longer do we fear the giant, creepy boogieman. We aren't worried about the thing under the bed grabbing our foot if we don't keep it under the covers (although I still feel like it might whenever I've recently read a Stephen King book).

Instead, we fear the looming specter of death. We fear the mangy grasp of poverty. We fear the sallow-faced twin goblins - pain and disease. And I don't know about anyone else, but these things sometimes make me long for a boogieman. At least that I could fight off with some monster spray (I gave a bottle to my brother when he was 4 - a bit of my perfume and water - and it worked like a charm), scare away with a shout or by turning on the lights, or even fend off with an errant baseball bat if the situation arose.

I can't take down my student loan debt, medical bills, or mortgage with Love's Baby Soft. I can't yell my ovaries or colon into submission and make them give up the guerrilla attacks they stage against me with cysts and Celiac. I can't guarantee myself a long life by plugging in a cute character night light. I wish I could.

But here's the thing - Veggie Tales was right. God is bigger than the boogieman. And that doesn't just apply to childhood monsters with gnashing teeth and tearing claws. It applies to every monster that we face from the time we are born until the time we die.

I was privileged to have attended a Bible workshop with my sister over the weekend, the subject of which was "Fear Not." What a powerful two words. I heard testimony from some amazing women about things they had been through in their lives. Things that seemed insurmountable at the time. Things that God brought good out of.

God is bigger than my debt. He is bigger than my pain. Bigger than my illness. He is bigger than the now-repaired hole in my daughter's heart. He is bigger than death - he conquered it. He is greater than anything that tries to harm me. He is greater than anything that does harm me. Because we are all harmed in our lives. People hurt us. We hurt ourselves. Circumstances seem to conspire against us. The best verse that I came away with from the workshop was Genesis 50:20, when Joseph is talking with his brothers about their sins against him:

"As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good..."

God has the big picture. He can see the whole of everything, and His plan is in the works. I'm sure you can think of a time when something horrible happened to you that eventually turned out to be for the best. I've shared before how my daughter's diagnosis, her surgery, her struggle, has inspired me to begin a non-profit that will be able to benefit over 300 families a year. I've had relationships end and been devastated by those endings, only to find that my life was healthier with the removal of that toxic person.

It's only human to feel fear. We all do. But when you do, remember that God has you. And he's watching over you and me.