You Matter
Monday is World Suicide Prevention Day. Every 40 seconds some one takes his or her own life. Even more than that is the number who attempt and are unsuccessful. I read a quote that suicide is a symptom of depression. The last symptom. Not everyone who is depressed attempts suicide, but everyone who attempts suicide is depressed. Every 40 seconds some one battling depression dies. If you think talking about anxiety, depression, and suicide is not 'relevant enough' across a wide audience to bring it up in all social groups across all demographics, you're a part of the problem.
That's a bold statement, I know, but it's true as much as it chaps your hide.
I was raised being told anxiety, depression, and all manner of mental illness were a sign you weren't close enough to God. If I would just get right with God, it'd all disappear. Here's the problem with that: I've profoundly struggled with anxiety and depression from my very earliest memories, and the first time I was suicidal is a memory seared in my mind. I was eight. I was 8 years old when, for the first time, I was so exhausted from the constant physical, mental, and emotional anguish I lived in, that I collapsed on the grass between the cow barn and my family's house and sobbed, screaming to God that I wanted to die. I'd been taught He was all powerful, He's the giver and taker of life. I remember feeling so profoundly that if He had even an ounce of mercy in Him with that power, I would be delivered from this life.
This place of deep desperation was a frequent visitor for the next 15 years. I had no help. No, strike that- I had little help. Most saw me as the problem child. The dramatic one. The liar- because the things I asked for help with could not possibly be true, not with a child raised in a loving, Christian home. There was one person who saw me, really saw me, and when he tried to help he was dismissed, and I was told not to trust or speak to him. He has Bipolar, you know.
Despite so many of His people mistreating me, rejecting me, and denying me help over the years GOD HIMSELF never gave up. Despite feeling so weak, desperate, unloved, and a bone-rattling ache of pain in my soul, GOD kept pursuing me. In His infinite wisdom and mercy GOD knew my story was important, relevant, and worth hearing. Not through the intervention of people, but God alone who sustained me and ultimately revealed to my heart that I did need to keep on living. His LOVE wrote over the slashing scars on my wrists that my story wasn't over. I share bits and pieces of this from time to time which has in a way branded me as a person who knows. A person who gets it. A person who sees, supports, loves, and doesn't judge- and a person who does that with actions and not just words. I am so grateful God has been able to shine His light through me in that way. The number of people who have come to me, being completely frank in their brokenness, whether we're "friends" or just acquaintances, telling me of their deep, deep pain, intrusive thoughts telling them to end it, how to end it, why to end it all, it is a heartbreaking privilege. And can I tell you? Almost all of them were "Christians." All of them were ashamed to be Christians and feeling this way, afraid to reach out and ask for help because they were Christians. One woman sobbed to me, begging me not to tell ANYONE she was struggling in this way, and especially not anyone at church, because it would look so, so bad. I promised, and I maintain that promise, yet it breaks my heart. She sat in church, mom groups, Bible studies, and served others several days a week every week, and felt she could not tell ANYONE about her pain because it would reflect poorly on her, on other leadership, and was just plane shameful. Words cannot express how grateful I am she and so many others have trusted me with their pain. It can be so hard to step out and say, "I HURT AND IT'S UGLY!" So I'm doing it first. I'm saying it right now: God gives me hope and strength to endure, but sometimes it is very, very ugly. I'm saying it first. I'll make it okay-er for you to share.
If you think talking about anxiety, depression, and suicide is not 'relevant enough' across a wide audience to bring it up in all social groups across all demographics, you're a part of the problem.
You matter. If any one thing can give you hope, think of this: God saw a need in the world that was so specific it could only be filled by YOU. YOU have a specific role to play that He made you and only you to fill. The Bible says so in so many places. He has plans for YOU. There is always hope. Always. If you cannot see it with your own eyes, please reach out. You may be afraid of judgement. You may feel like you're already screaming for help as loudly as you can, but try just one more time. I see you. I will hear you. I don't care if I know you. Let me help carry you to the Hope.
That's a bold statement, I know, but it's true as much as it chaps your hide.
I was raised being told anxiety, depression, and all manner of mental illness were a sign you weren't close enough to God. If I would just get right with God, it'd all disappear. Here's the problem with that: I've profoundly struggled with anxiety and depression from my very earliest memories, and the first time I was suicidal is a memory seared in my mind. I was eight. I was 8 years old when, for the first time, I was so exhausted from the constant physical, mental, and emotional anguish I lived in, that I collapsed on the grass between the cow barn and my family's house and sobbed, screaming to God that I wanted to die. I'd been taught He was all powerful, He's the giver and taker of life. I remember feeling so profoundly that if He had even an ounce of mercy in Him with that power, I would be delivered from this life.
This place of deep desperation was a frequent visitor for the next 15 years. I had no help. No, strike that- I had little help. Most saw me as the problem child. The dramatic one. The liar- because the things I asked for help with could not possibly be true, not with a child raised in a loving, Christian home. There was one person who saw me, really saw me, and when he tried to help he was dismissed, and I was told not to trust or speak to him. He has Bipolar, you know.
Despite so many of His people mistreating me, rejecting me, and denying me help over the years GOD HIMSELF never gave up. Despite feeling so weak, desperate, unloved, and a bone-rattling ache of pain in my soul, GOD kept pursuing me. In His infinite wisdom and mercy GOD knew my story was important, relevant, and worth hearing. Not through the intervention of people, but God alone who sustained me and ultimately revealed to my heart that I did need to keep on living. His LOVE wrote over the slashing scars on my wrists that my story wasn't over. I share bits and pieces of this from time to time which has in a way branded me as a person who knows. A person who gets it. A person who sees, supports, loves, and doesn't judge- and a person who does that with actions and not just words. I am so grateful God has been able to shine His light through me in that way. The number of people who have come to me, being completely frank in their brokenness, whether we're "friends" or just acquaintances, telling me of their deep, deep pain, intrusive thoughts telling them to end it, how to end it, why to end it all, it is a heartbreaking privilege. And can I tell you? Almost all of them were "Christians." All of them were ashamed to be Christians and feeling this way, afraid to reach out and ask for help because they were Christians. One woman sobbed to me, begging me not to tell ANYONE she was struggling in this way, and especially not anyone at church, because it would look so, so bad. I promised, and I maintain that promise, yet it breaks my heart. She sat in church, mom groups, Bible studies, and served others several days a week every week, and felt she could not tell ANYONE about her pain because it would reflect poorly on her, on other leadership, and was just plane shameful. Words cannot express how grateful I am she and so many others have trusted me with their pain. It can be so hard to step out and say, "I HURT AND IT'S UGLY!" So I'm doing it first. I'm saying it right now: God gives me hope and strength to endure, but sometimes it is very, very ugly. I'm saying it first. I'll make it okay-er for you to share.
If you think talking about anxiety, depression, and suicide is not 'relevant enough' across a wide audience to bring it up in all social groups across all demographics, you're a part of the problem.
You matter. If any one thing can give you hope, think of this: God saw a need in the world that was so specific it could only be filled by YOU. YOU have a specific role to play that He made you and only you to fill. The Bible says so in so many places. He has plans for YOU. There is always hope. Always. If you cannot see it with your own eyes, please reach out. You may be afraid of judgement. You may feel like you're already screaming for help as loudly as you can, but try just one more time. I see you. I will hear you. I don't care if I know you. Let me help carry you to the Hope.
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