This is part 2 of a 3 part series. You can read part 1 here.
I often think of depression as a living thing. Those who have lived with it will probably agree. It has a mind of its own, and can’t be controlled. And it grows. It eats every bit of light it can find and grows and grows until the darkness completely swallows you. Depression has a voice. It whispers to you in the dark lonely nights, and mocks you in the light of day. Depression robs you. Of sleep, of relationships, of hope, of joy. Depression is a master of lies. It convinces you that things will never change. That no one really loves you. That everything bad that is happening is all your fault. That the world would be a much better place if only you weren’t in it.
Depression is good at its job. It’s sneaky and subtle. It slips in unannounced, and slowly winds its way into your life. It steals bits and pieces. Unnoticed at first. And then when you’ve become powerless to fight back it steals blatantly right out in the open. It is a master manipulator. Working its magic to separate you from healthy relationships. Like a hungry cheetah stalking its prey it isolates you from the pack then picks you off when you are alone and afraid.
I remember as a girl watching the movie The Neverending Story. It was one of my favorites. I watched it again a few years ago with my own children. I’ll never forget the scene when the Great Nothing moves across Fantasia swallowing everything in its path. I remember thinking that’s what depression looks like. Nothing escapes it. Nothing can fight it. Nothing can overpower it.
When the Great Nothing comes everything else disappears. Light, sound, shadow. It all falls prey to the Nothing. It all gives in to depression. Eventually depression wins and nothing but darkness remains.
But I had decided. It was time to be free. And in my mind the only way to freedom was through death. Sunday morning I woke up feeling very peaceful, almost joyful. Not because the depression had left, but because today was my last day to have to live with it. Things were going just as I had planned when in an instant everything was ruined.
Unbeknownst to me God is a tattle tale. And at approximately 11:30am on that beautiful spring Sunday morning God tattled on me. My two best friends were in church (I was in the building, but not in the service, hiding once again) and at the exact same moment God somehow, someway told them both of my plans to end my life. They both left their seats, met each other in the lobby and with tears streaming down their cheeks set out to find me.
Just a few short minutes later they had found me and drug me into an empty Sunday School room. Missha spoke first “We know what you are planning” Crystal joined in “Tell us everything”.
And I did.
I told them about the Great Sorrow, about the Darkness, about the Plan. And as I sat there confessing the ugly, dirty truth of who I had become the strangest thing began to happen. For the first time in a long time I felt free.
Confession is good for the soul.
I don’t remember the words that were spoken that day. I do remember tears. Lots of tears. I remember hands, holding mine, encircling me. I remember prayers, said on my behalf. Whispered prayers that turned to shouts. I remember love. I remember light.
If you are suffering today can I ask you to please get help? My story doesn’t end here, in fact this is just the beginning. God wants to rescue and redeem us from the deepest darkest pit. Will you hold to Him?