The first time
I ever tried killing myself
I was ten years old.
It was an ill-conceived plan.
I did not know how hard it would be
To overdose
On a bottle of Dimetapp.
I succeeded in drugging myself,
And slept for fifteen hours.
I can laugh about it now.
I was not laughing then.
I battled depression
For almost three decades.
I can tell you that it started
When I began school,
And originally stemmed from my being
The class pariah.
I was that kid -
The overweight kid.
The too-smart kid.
The too-sensitive kid.
The one bullies bullied.
The depression took root like a giant thornbush,
Choking the joy out of normal childhood,
Making my predisposed, somewhat shy self
Sullen, moody, withdrawn,
Someone more at home in books
Than with people her own age.
My parents repeatedly told me
There was nothing wrong with me.
I did not believe them.
The sadness, aloneness,
And feeling of being cut off from others
Deepened and intensified with the years.
I didn't have the words for
The load of sadness
That weighed upon me.
I simply wanted it to stop.
I thought only death would alleviate the burden.
My teens and twenties
Saw a partial lifting of the depression.
Instead of it crushing me,
It transformed into a kind of carousel.
Up and down.
Around and around I spun,
Trying to stave it off...
Trying to keep the intrusive, self-destructive thoughts
Out of the labyrinth in my head...
Trying to find my way out
When I got lost in there.
The barbed wire and armed guards
I mentally erected
Were like the US's patrol force
Along Mexico's border:
Outnumbered, and something always
Slipped through.
A year and a half of therapy
Added some weapons to my arsenal.
It wasn't enough to end the war.
I thought about taking antidepressants,
But, fearing losing some vital part of myself,
Decided against it.
Each round of wrestling with it
Left me a little more drained
Than the time before.
Is this ever going to stop?
I would wonder.
And now...
God has vanquished it
When I wasn't looking.
The past five years
Have transformed my life;
The me of this moment
Would have been
Unrecognizable to the me from
Five years ago.
So many of the old habits,
The old patterns of thinking,
Have been replaced by
Sound thoughts...
Healing thoughts.
My mind wanders less and less
In those dark, nether regions.
I can be sad, angry, discouraged, or upset
Without being overwrought, hopeless, or suicidal.
It is a good feeling.
It is a very good feeling.
In my mind,
There is an ongoing conversation
With God.
I bring my life to Him
More and more daily.
He answers me
Through Scripture,
And circumstance,
And other people,
And occasionally dropping a thought there on His own.
(What an astounding and terrifying experience!)
When that familiar spirit of heaviness
Starts whispering to me from the dark,
There is His voice in the background,
With an even more resonant whisper:
"You are a Child
Of the Most High God."
Every time I think it,
I cannot help but smile.
The depression
Cannot compete with that thought
For very long.
I took it for granted
That I would probably combat,
At best, a low-level depression
For the rest of my life.
But now,
There is this giant Flame
In the center of my soul.
It is transforming
A lifetime of heartaches
And heaps upon heaps of
Death-filled, nihilistic thoughts
Into a temple of worship,
A home for the Spirit
Of the Living God!
It is true, what Paul tells the Romans:
"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." *
Lord,
This is truly wondrous.
I didn't ask You,
And You did it.
Thank you.
The meditations of my heart
Yield the following reply:
"It is impossible to abide
Close to My Heart
And not feel Joy.
I had to heal you.
I have to make you ready
For what's coming next."
I blink.
"Next? What's 'next'?"
He doesn't answer directly.
He smothers my nervousness
With an extra burst of Joy.
Hmmm.
Next.
I'm in trouble now.
* Romans 8:26
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