Disclaimer: While this post is long, I feel it is important that you read all of it. To those of you who know me, whether it is really well or hardly at all, this post is different from really anything I've written for public eyes before. Be aware that it touches on some heavy subjects and if you have anything come up that you want to talk about after reading it, please don't hesitate to contact me!
It's Time You Knew
Sitting there in that office, I was making one of the
hardest decisions of my life. It was the second semester of my second year of
college. I had tested out of a full year of school, making me a junior already;
but now I was faced with a choice. Was all that hard work to get ahead really
worth it? What would it mean if I gave it all up now? Here was my choice: Do I
stay in school and finish out this semester at my university, or do I take
medical leave and check myself into a residential treatment center for the
depression I had been living with since I was 14 years old?
People’s opinions about my decision swirled around in my
head as I tried to weigh out the pros and cons of each of the options I had.
What would my parents think? That I was a hopeless case? That they had messed
up too much to have a successful daughter? What would my teachers think? Well,
quite honestly, it was more like ‘What will I think of myself if I let down
these teachers who have put so much time and energy into my education?’ What would
my friends think? Oh, I already knew what they thought. They kept telling me
they would understand whatever decision I needed to make, but was that really
true? I wasn’t so sure. As much as they said they would understand, they also
kept telling me how wrong it would feel to be at school without me. I knew,
though, that eventually they would get over it and soon it would be as if I had
never been there with them in the first place. Deep down, though, I knew the
answer I was really searching for: Would I be able to live with the results of
leaving school for a semester and having my secret, private life be made known
to everyone I knew on campus? The prospect of that scared me because as much as
I would have liked to believe that people would be understanding and
supportive, I feared more that they would judge me, think there was something
wrong with me, and criticize me for being too weak to keep going.
As I sat in the office with my outpatient counselor
patiently drawing an answer out of me, I couldn’t get my feelings straight.
Finally I found a moment of peace and said, “I don’t think inpatient treatment
is right for me right now. I am going to stay in school for the semester and
just really focus on my treatment as it is. I know the inpatient option is
always there if I ever do need it.” She looked at me with eyes that told me she
was the epitome of sincerity. She affirmed my decision and the conversation
moved on to what needed to happen next.
As we talked my mind was still sprinting in all directions
with questions of how things even got to this point, what made it come to this
decision even having to be made, and was I searching for my answers in the
place I knew I could find them. For the rest of the evening I kept turning
those same three questions over and over in my head until I was relatively
satisfied with the answers.
How did things even get to this point? Well, that one I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be
honest about. For years I had lived with depression being the only way of
living I understood. Even before I knew I had depression, I knew there was
something wrong with me that kept me from living the way most other kids did.
Why couldn’t I be carefree and love being around people? Why did one little
word have to ruin my whole day? Why was I so terrible at making friends and
keeping them? I have come to know now that the depression was not an excuse for
all of these things, simply an explanation. As I learned more about the way
depression works, it became more and more clear that I had grown up with
depression ruling every area of my life as much as I had been trying to fight
or deny it. I had put up a front and pretended for so long that everything was
perfect in my world that it became what I truly believed. Instead of facing the
things that tried to tear me down, I rejected their existence and even the fact
that God existed in the midst of my problems.
I had been raised in a Christian home, attended a Christian
school my whole life, and truly loved the church my family called home. I
learned the truth of God’s Word from a very young age, and there was no
question that God had proven His faithfulness to me time and time again. So
why, then, was it so hard for me to be authentic and vulnerable with Him? Maybe
because I was afraid of what the people around me would think. My perception of
some members of my church and school was that they expected no one to have
struggles and judged those who were open about struggles they did have. I realize
now that my thinking that way was wrong, and that has given me a lot of freedom
in being vulnerable with those God has placed in my life. Maybe it was because
I didn’t understand that God had allowed my life to be the way it was for a
reason. I spent many years going back and forth between feeling God’s presence
all around me to being bitter and rejecting God, having too much pride to admit
I needed His help and even convincing myself that He clearly didn’t care about
my life anyway. I let that bitterness invade my relationships with classmates
and even my parents. It tore my family in two, especially the way I behaved in
regards to my own dad. I refused to recognize the efforts he made to make my
life as great as it was and only looked at the things that he had done to cause
me pain and heartbreak. I see now that everything under the sun has a purpose
for its happening. There is some reason God allowed me to experience a life
with depression, emotional and verbal abuse, bullying, social anxiety, and
self-image problems. I don’t believe that these experiences bring God glory and
make Him pleased; rather, it is what we do with these experiences to be a
witness of His faithfulness through our many trials that bring glory to His
kingdom. There is nothing I could say or do without His being in it. He was in
these experiences with me and was working in them every single moment to teach
me how to use my life for the purpose it was created – His purpose, to bring
His children into His kingdom.
So then, how did I get to this point of having to make this
seemingly impossible decision? In the midst of my experiencing depression, I
had encountered what it means to feel as though my life was worthless. As much
as I would push the thoughts out of my mind, they took root and infiltrated my
thinking to the point of wanting to take my own life. My first plan of suicide
came when I was 16, a sophomore in high school, with so much going for me that
no one would have believed what was going on under the surface. I had two
friends who were willing to face the reality with me and prayed for me when I
couldn’t pray for myself. I am still thankful to them to this day that God
saved me from what I almost did to myself that night. After that I was pretty
stable for a couple of years. Then my senior year of high school came and I was
overwhelmed by everything that involved. So much of it was full of joy, but a
lot of it was filled with the prospect of missing all these friends I had
finally come to know, leaving the only atmosphere I had ever lived in, and
facing the uncertainty of all the years yet to come. I made a lot of decisions
during that year without allowing God to be a part of them. I lived out of fake
authenticity and became very good at hiding the fact that I had any problems at
all – except to my closest friends. To them, I made some of my problems bigger
than reality in hopes that I would gain their attention. It was almost like my
cry for help without really knowing that that was what I was doing. Many times
during that year I thought of ending my life, just wishing everything I was
feeling – frustration, confusion, helplessness – would go away forever and
leave me be. That’s all I wanted – to just BE, whatever that meant. I sought help in two teachers at my high
school who I knew I could trust, and I finished my senior year and graduation
with the appearance that I was in love with life and all that was laid out
before me.
When I arrived in River Falls, WI, to begin my freshman year
of college, I knew it was time to allow my true self to come forward, but I
didn’t know how to do that. I made some friends and got connected in a Bible
study right away, but I fell into my old patterns of keeping up appearance. I
got worn out – really worn out – and by the end of the first semester I could
feel things changing again. I was miserable my second semester, barely keeping
my head above the water, but kept pushing on with no one suspecting a thing.
Several times that semester I had contemplated ending my life, but I couldn’t
bear to think of what it would do to the last few people I knew loved me.
Summer came and went and I started my second year at UWRF even worse off than
the last. I was low to the point that I wasn’t even sure I could handle school.
I found myself being honest with another friend and telling her what I had been
living through the previous year and where I was at now. For a while, things were
good. I had friends close by, was enjoying my classes, and was actually feeling
pretty good about things; but I started to notice this cycle of low weeks and
my coping skills were just not there to handle them. By November, I was at rock
bottom. I remember that night so vividly
it hurts. I was within seconds of taking an entire bottle of Tylenol when I
just broke down. I was shaking, couldn’t breathe, panicking. I called a friend in
North Dakota and she told me I had to find someone on campus to get to me right
away. I texted a girl in my Bible study and she found me in my room hardly able
to stand. That night was lower than I’ve ever been.
The next morning I went to the counseling center on campus
and was referred off campus because of the severity of my case. I started outpatient
treatment for severe depression, self-harm, and suicidal ideation on December
1, 2011. I also had my mom come over that evening so I could share with her
everything I had been feeling for the past six years. Within weeks I was making
incredible progress, and I went on to do very well in school that semester.
J-term break was definitely a challenge, but I kept people around me who knew
what was going on to support me. We arrived back at school for the spring
semester, and the transition into routine was really a challenge. The cycles of
low weeks had continued and I found myself isolating much of the time – wanting
to be alone, do nothing, sleep constantly – and one afternoon I ran away from
campus and refused to answer calls when people came looking for me. Thankfully
I hadn’t intended on harming myself, but nonetheless, I knew it was time for a
wake-up-call. That night, I found myself being taken to the emergency room,
stripped of any pride I had left, and weak enough to just let what happened
happen. That’s all it took – I was shocked into knowing I wanted my life to
change from that point forward because I couldn’t take being under the scrutiny
of all that happened in the ER that night. So that is what led me to the
outpatient counselor’s office for this decision.
Being in the ER that night made me realize I had been
drawing on only my strength, still keeping secrets from the people I loved and
those who loved me. By then I had told my dad, too, what was going on, and I
had found a friend in one of the professional staff on campus who I knew was
praying for me and there for encouragement any time I needed her. But I also knew
that my strength alone was no match for this terrible, haunting depression that
had become my normal; and I knew I wanted nothing more to do with it than to
let it be a way for God to help others find His love, grace, hope and
faithfulness. That day when I was
released from the hospital into the care of my roommates, I knew things had to
change, and they have. In the last few months I have repeatedly asked God to help
get me through the inevitable low days, I’ve learned the things I should be
doing to cope with them when they come, and I have made progress that even I
sometimes can’t believe is possible.
Thanks to God and a few close friends, my life is starting
to make a difference. Every time I hear of another person lost to suicide
because they don’t know how much their life means to the other people around
them, I am struck by the sheer tenacity I have found in allowing others to see
my pain. I pray that by sharing all of this someone somewhere would be saved
from a life so miserable they feel it can only get better by ending it. I am
thankful for every experience God has allowed me to have, simply for the reason
that it gives Him another chance to make His love and faithfulness known. Yes,
there are still days when life gets me down – but it’s not about those low
moments. They are moments, not a definition of your entire life!
My last words to you are this: if you are finding yourself
feeling the way I described in all of this, please don’t continue to face life
alone. We were created to need each other and to need God. If you need someone
you can trust to help you through this, know that I am making myself completely
available, any time any place. But if it can’t be me, please seek out someone
it can be. Don’t keep making things look ok when really you are barely holding
up inside. Life is worth living, and you are worth more than life itself. If
you’re reading this, know that there is at least one person, a college student
in River Falls, WI, who loves you possibly without even knowing you, and that
God knows you and loves you in a way that is unfathomable. Know that I am
praying for you and here if you ever need it.
<3 Kelly
