Growing up I pretty much had the perfect life. It wasn’t “perfect” but I saw it that way. Maybe not then- but now. I had all of my needs and most of my wants taken care of. I didn’t know struggle or pain or true trauma. A wonderful Christian family, my life revolved around God’s people. You name it, I did it. Mission trips, youth ministry, praise team, children’s ministry.  I grew up in a town where you didn’t have a lot of choice where you went to church, so you learned to be a true family-to stick with one another through the bad and the good and to endure, because you were stuck there. LOL

But I wasn’t “stuck” I was “blessed.” 

Then I graduated and continued to serve God in college. I was a CRU Bible study leader, and was involved with my college church. I went to Africa in 2014 and fell in love with the country and it’s people and for two years I dreamed of nothing but going back. 

I had struggled with anxiety pretty much my entire life. My earliest memories being back to about the second grade. Even though at the time I didn’t realize that was what was wrong with me. I started having thoughts of suicide or just of not being satisfied with my life at about the age of 23. At the time I didn’t realize what was wrong with me. I just thought, “Hey Africa will fix it.” I had to have something to “look forward to.”

Well I went to Africa and let me tell you… it didn’t fix it.

After coming back from Africa  I was physically and mentally sick and I knew it. 

Breaking my hour into 5 minutes in order to make it through- I avoided guns, knives, even scarves. Anything I could use to hurt myself I was afraid of, because I was afraid I would use it.

While my church members were across the street at a church gathering I was in my house throwing scarves against the wall as thoughts of hanging myself in my closet loomed over my head. My dog watching me thinking, “What is wrong with this crazy lady...when I was adopted I did not sign up for this…” LOL But she still lay with me on my bed as I cried and cuddled in need of a friend. It’s amazing what God allows animals to help with. 

But no one could find anything wrong with me even though it was very evident I was ill. Walking was a chore and I remember holding onto the wall for support. I sat at Subway as my mom said, “Grab this cracker…” and I willed my hands to go to reach for the cracker and struggled with motor skills. I had lost around 30 pounds. Finally I ended up in the ER on Thanksgiving with my dad in fireman uniform telling the doctor, “This is not my daughter. Please help us.” A shell of the person I was, it saddens me to even think about this girl. I don’t recognize her.

They treated me for malaria, unaware of if I truly had it at the time. 

I bounced from doctor to doctor. And finally found out I had been diagnosed with Mefloquine syndrome and a viral count that over 600. I also had Herpes (type 1) in my face and ears and they thought it may have infiltrated my brain so I was give a spinal tap. Turns out it didn’t- thank goodness. Nothing will make you feel crazier than being told you are fine for 5 months when you know you aren’t. 

When people ask what was wrong, “Well I may have herpes in my brain…” 

(You have to have a sense of humor.) 

And now I have (possible) permanent nerve damage from both the medication and the viruses. 

The original makers of Mefloquine have since taken it off the market because it’s psychological and physical side effects. The only reason it’s still produced is because people bought into the company. But that is another article in itself. For someone who already suffered with anxiety and depression- this medication is hell if it goes wrong.

And it did for me. 

During that time, in my messed up mind I believed that going home would benefit not only me, but everyone around me, because they won’t have to deal with me. I remember thinking, “I could go home and see Jesus and all this would go away.” And for me it would have. But what about my family?

I remember the night I sat and had the thought, “What if you ended this right now…” it scared me to death and I went to my Mama, “Mama I need help…” I was so afraid. So afraid I would end up in a straight jacket in the psycho ward of a hospital on a cold, white, tile floor. 

But my mom is her grace just smiled and said, “Okay we are going to get you help.” My dad called me from work and said, “Honey you are going to be okay, we are going to get you help.” What would I do without my parents? I love you so much. 

Although it is true that suicide is selfish, you are not trying to be selfish, you are sick. No one in their right mind can take their own life unless they are facing a situation where they feel it is inevitable.

I was sick. 

I didn’t want to kill myself but I didn’t see any other way out of my pain. 

I really have a hard time hearing, “Well they (suicidal people) are just cowards.” 

Although it is true that some people do take their lives after horrendous acts of violence in order to not face their repercussions, the majority of people who take their own lives do not do so to prevent consequences, they do so in the depths of their despair. 

And I believe that if we would stop labeling people “cowards” that can’t seem to deal, that we would see an influx of people willing to get help for their problems. 

Next time you are tempted to say “they were just cowards” or “they were just selfish” about someone who took their own life consider that is someone’s son, daughter, mother, brother, nephew, cousin, dad. 

Even if they were someone who did so after taking other lives or doing something terrible -they have families. So let us remember that and be kind.

So there I sat, in my despair, for months. 

Slowly but surely I started to improve- physically and mentally. 

Then I got back into contact with someone that I thought would make it all better that I had known since childhood. I was laughing again. I was running through the backyard again. I was having fun again. It seemed… I was living again.

Turns out we both needed healing and our way of fixing ourselves with marriage back fired and damaged us even further. 

I found my life topple again and spiral downward with pain that felt like I was being ripped in two. 

Still, I knew I could not go back into that hole that God had pulled me from. 

I couldn’t go back to that girl. 

I had to fight. No matter how painful. No matter how desperate. No matter how challenging. I had to fight for me, my family, for a future. 

Prayer. Counseling. Medication. Friends. My cousin Landon’s smile. My students. The tree branches swaying in the wind. A rainy day. Sticking yourself out of a sunroof on a dirt road at night to see the stars. The smell of the pasture in your nostrils. A horses soft fur. The heartbeat of my daddy. Manicures with my Mawmaw. My sister’s presence as my best friend. My mom’s soft arms. My Pawpaw’s quiet spirit. Aunt Beth’s teacher talks. Hope’s beautiful blonde hair. Faith’s innocence. Shawn’s laugh. Emily and Missy and Halle’s fun personality and jokes. Papa’s amazing hugs. Meemaws listening ear.

These are healing. 

Taking your own life is never the answer. 

It just leaves the people behind with question, pain and the broken pieces. 

And honestly, no one truly fully recovers from that devastation. 

I share all this to say that if you are facing thoughts of suicide please reach out and get help. Please know that is NOT your only option. Talk to a counselor, a pastor, your family, a trusted friend. Please speak up and reach out! Know you are not alone and you can get the help you need.

You are valuable. 
You are loved. 
You are useful.

My aunt says, “One day the sun will shine and warm you all the way to your heart again…” 

Thank you to everyone who helped me make it through. And thank you to Jesus who has never failed me. 

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.” Proverbs 40:2