Grieving My Aunts Sudden Death, Right Before Giving Birth

I received a text message from my mother before I had gotten out of bed, “Call me when you’re up. It’s important.”

I immediately got out of bed, my heart beating faster. I knew something very bad had happened, because there is no way she should ever text me like that otherwise. I tried to prepare my still sleepy mind for terrible news. Somebody I love must be badly hurt, or dead. I just didn’t know who. Part of me did not want to know, but delaying the phone call would not change anything.

I went into the bathroom and quietly called her. There were no typical pleasantries. We both knew there was only one reason for this phone call. There was no way to sugar coat the news, “Aunt Cookie is dead”.

Then, silence on my end. My head swimming with the abrupt finality of those words. Injured, or sick leaves room for hope. Death is unforgiving, leaving no space for second chances.

How? When? What on earth happened?

Not so many details yet. She was at a friend’s house. She overdosed on her medications. No one knows if it was intentional, or accidental.

She was hospitalized recently for suicidal depression. She had battled depression her entire life, but she had lost over 100lbs in recent years and seemed to be doing better. Did she do it intentionally? Then again, she was known to occasionally abuse her medications. In an attempt to get relief from her mental stress, she would take too many benzos or opiates. That is an easy way to accidentally overdose, and given her age and health status, it would be even easier.

Either situation leaves us in sudden grief. A poor decision made in haste, clouded by depression. She is gone. There is no way to bring her back to us. My cousins, and second cousins have lost their mother and grandmother. My mother and aunts have lost their sister. I have lost my aunt.

And I am nearly 40 weeks pregnant.

How do I manage death and new life simultaneously? How does my family embrace, and celebrate a new addition; while saying goodbye to another loved one?

And then, the practical concerns that plague those coping with death. The Funeral. The wake. What if I go into labor at the same time as the funeral service? How could I possibly miss it? How could I ask my mother to help me, support me, watch my children during labor if she is supposed to be saying goodbye to her sister?

All of this is sitting inside of me, eating me up.

We describe deep sadness as our “heart breaking”, or “soul crushing”. It is a not just a figure of speech, it literally feels as if my heart is breaking and my soul is being crushed. There is a physical element to emotional pain that is undeniable, and it is with me all day today. I am carrying that heaviness, just as real as my toddler on my hip and heavy baby in my womb.

I didn’t have a way to prepare for this. Life is often interrupted by a series of uncontrollable events. We are really not in control of many things, despite pretending otherwise.

As a believer, this is a time for me to get grounded in the Word. To remember that He is in control, and knows all things. He is our comforter, our healer, and our refuge in times of need. I have to trust in Him, to continue to guide this pregnancy until birth. I have to trust him, even in the face of death and loss. I am reminded of my mortality as well. We are not promised tomorrow, so let’s make the best of today. And remember to tell our loved ones how much we value them in our lives, because you may not have another chance.

Shalom.

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Biblical Response to Cutting/Self-Injury

I gave myself a rare treat tonight; a nice hot bath. As a mother of 4 (and counting) taking a bath is an indulgance I don’t often get to enjoy. I was listening to an audio book of the gospel of John, when I noticed the marks all over my body.

First, I looked at my tattoos. I tend to not see my tattoos, really see them, because I have had them for so long since a young age. They kind of just look like my skin to me. But tonight I noticed them and thought about the journey I have been on, each one meant something to me at the time. I used to hide my tattoos with long sleeves and high collared shirts after becoming a Christian, but now I usually don’t hide them. It’s not something I can change, and it brings up conversations with people who might otherwise not have talked to me. Many of my tattoos represent a previous belief system.

Similar to a previous belief system, my scars represent a previous way of life and thinking as well. My eyes moved from my tattoos to the countless white scars covering my left forearm, all around it, every inch.

They used to be bright red, but have now faded into a pale white. They form ridges and valleys, layer upon layer upon layer; 10 years of self injury. I looked at the tiny white dots surrounding some of them, scars from the stitches I was given for the worst of them. I turned my arm over and recalled being 14 years old, 16 years old; I still remember the places and the objects I used. Burns and cuts alter my body forever.

My heart felt sorrowful. I felt compassion and sadness towards my former self. I was only 11 years old the first time I took something sharp and used it against myself for relief. I was 21 the last time I did it.

Now, I can’t fathom hurting myself intentionally. The very idea is horrifying, but this was far from the case when I was younger. The pain was so deep, so profound, and I lacked the ability to cope with it.

I began to think of the reasons why I once found it acceptable, even irresistible, to hurt myself; and then God gave me words against those reasons. Truth sets us free. I want to expose the twisted thinking behind my self-injury to the light of the gospel. I hope it helps those still struggling, and gives insight to those who have not.

1.) I self-injured because I preferred the physical pain over the emotional pain. I didn’t think I could handle the severity of my depression. I ran from the emotions that hurt me by deflecting it.

Psalm 147:3 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds”

Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me…

He is with us in our pain. He does not leave us alone in it. Even in the valley of death, we can find his comfort and love with us. He may not remove the suffering or circumstance, but he never makes us walk it alone. We have his help!

2 Cor 1:3-4 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ (Yeshua Messiah), the Father of compassion and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we may comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves received from God”

When we are comforted by God, we can then extend that comfort to those who find themselves in the same situations we once faced. I can talk to people who have endured mental illness and addiction and abuse, because I have been there. I have experienced his comfort in that, and help others with it now. This is part of how God uses what was meant as evil for good.

2.) I self-injured because I believed that I deserved to be hurt. I hated myself, and I punished myself.

John 3:16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life”

Romans 5:8 “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us”

Zeph 3:17 “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing”

Romans 8: 37-39 “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Yeshua Messiah)”

1 John 4:9 “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him”

There are SO many bible verses about God’s love for us that I could not possibly list them all. We have been saved by grace, there is NO reason to punish yourself for real or imagined sins. We are called his children, do we want our children to hate or hurt themselves? Of course not! In fact it would grieve us terribly if they did, just as it grieves our Father in heaven when we do. Knowing and accepting and believing in His LOVE for us heals self-hate. How can we hate ourselves when we are made in His image and loved so very much by him?

3.) I felt at times like I was detached from reality, and hurting my body felt like a reminder of what was real

Phil 4:8 “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things”

The scriptures point us to the greater reality, beyond the things of this world. We are not merely flesh and blood, but also spirit. We can focus our mind on the things above, on what is true. That is the reality that I seek to remember now.

Finally, what can we tell people who believe but are hurting themselves? First of all, start with compassion and understanding. Gal 6:2 “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you fulfill the law of Christ(Messiah)” 

Remind them of how loved they are. Remind them that they will never be forsaken. Remind them that they are forgiven. Remind them that our Savior himself is very familiar with pain, he can relate to those who are suffering because he suffered so much. Isaiah 53:3 “He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain…”

Explain that our body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, and we are not our own. Our body and our life is a gift from God to be cherished. Weep with those who weep, mourn with those who mourn. Do not let your brother or sister be in pain all alone. Come alongside them, and don’t minimize their pain.

Lastly, I want to remind Christians that mental illness is a serious thing. We are physical, emotional, and spiritual beings. Some people will take medication to help them on their path of healing, some will not. Too often well meaning believers encourage others to stop taking their medication, this can be a dangerous thing to do. The withdrawal process alone can cause serious psychological and physical issues. Please do not offer advice on these matters unless you are very knowledgeable on the subject, and only when the person themselves wants that help. There are varied ways to health and healing, taking medication does not mean one doesn’t have faith in God anymore than using a wheelchair means you don’t believe you can be healed.

I hope my experience can be helpful, and I am open to other suggestions from those of you are in recovery or helping people in recovery.

Shalom.

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Trigger, Trigger. (PTSD)

Where does this despair hide itself from the rest of me when life is going smoothly? Does it seep into the corners of my mouth when I smile? Does it retreat into the shadows of my insides? How can it escape notice from the very person it inhabits? Until—a nightmare during sleep opens me up and the despair that was hidden comes squarely before my face.

And it laughs at me. Taunts me. Turns my gut into twisted pieces.

Causes me to doubt everything that I am, believe, and wish to be.

I carry this endlessly deep space of despair around, it suffocates my heart and fills my belly. I force my body to move the way it is supposed to. I make myself walk around like a human being, like the person I was before the latest trigger. I can’t cry. I can’t think. I feel as if I am being stalked by this shadow enemy.

Just. Leave. Me. Alone!

I don’t want you here anymore. I don’t want to face whatever horrors of my past your trying to foist upon me. I have a present, and a future that I love living; stop dragging me down with those claws. Those claws of despair that pierce me, cut into me, slash my heart in two.

I question everything. And I know this is all a show. I know how it ends if I follow you down this rabbit hole. I have never been able to survive it. I have never been able to be strong. I always fall apart into a thousand pieces and then after you leave, put myself back together (yet never quite as together as before).

Is there a way to swim through this ocean without choking on the pain? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I feel emptied out. Terrified, again.

The sick thing is, as soon as this storm passes…all I see are clear blue skies. And then I wonder, what was I scared of? Why was I so lost in this emotional war? It all seems so..obvious and simple.

But then these triggers come and cut me open again, exposing that hidden despair. The same old cycle. I just have to hold on and let it tear through me. I have to be inert and unmoving. I have to allow it to run its course without choosing any actions, without thinking any thoughts. Then, I survive it without destroying myself. Then, I stand under the clear blue skies and realize the insanity of the storm.

But, is this the only way? Is there a way to stop these emotional tempests and finally have lasting peace and calm? I don’t know. I only know how to survive. But survival gets exhausting sometimes. I want to have that peace. Please, let me have that lasting peace.

And the storm is rolling over me….

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The Lies of the Enemy vs. The Glorious Truth

I have been very busy lately with the end of this semester fast approaching, along with life’s other obligations. I’ve been able to spend some time praying though, and it has brought up a theme for me; resisting temptation and the lies of the enemy.

This is in stark contrast to the promises of Yahweh, and what he can offer us to sooth our weary souls.

For those us with mental illness and/or addiction, we tend to experience emotions in a BIG way. Often we are just overwhelmed by them, and hence we seek out a way to ease that pain. The enemy tells us “I have these drugs, all kinds of drugs, pick one…it will sooth your suffering and take it all away”. Or maybe it’s sex, gambling, taking big risks; anything that takes us out of the pain and brings us a rush.

But as we know, this never lasts. In fact, when the high wears off we are much worse off than when we first started. Not to mention the trauma, the family rifts, and many other consequences of our using that we now have to deal with. The enemy lies to us, and by the time we realize we are trapped in this cycle of addiction and pain, we face a huge struggle to climb back out.

But we don’t have to do it alone. The entire time we were searching, searching, searching for that fix—that high—that thrill, He was waiting with his arms outstretched to us with real hope.

The enemy tells us, “Go ahead, indulge yourself and feel better”

“Go ahead, follow your own desires and thrills”

“Go ahead, I can make you feel better than you ever imagined.”

When this fails, when we end up doing nothing and sacrificing everything for that fix/that false cure—we end up often considering suicide. Imagine how the enemy feels when he tricks us into following his way, and then takes our very life from us? That is exactly what he wants to do; steal, kill, and destroy.

You know how horrible it feels when a young person dies, because that had to feed that addiction? Or a middle ages person dies and leaves their children and spouse, questioning and devastated?

It is as if we can see how things could have been. In an alternate universe, in a world where their life had a difference ending; we can see how much was lost for this addiction. It is so breathtakingly sad. It was almost my fate as well.

This is a song by R.E.M called “Country Feedback”, and I listened to it a lot as teen. Part of the refrain goes like this;

“It’s crazy what you could have,
Crazy what you could have had,
I need this…I need this…”

I used to cry so hard at that, because it cut to my soul. I knew I could have another life. I saw a future that could have been mine; college, love, children, etc. but I needed my high so badly that I just couldn’t have it. I could feel that other future, and its loss (and my inability to stop myself) was so gut wrenching.

Of course, my future is not what I believed it would be but ONLY because I have resisted and fought and clawed my way out of that abyss.

Yahushua (Jesus) tells us that we must hate even our very own life to be his disciple. What he means by that is, we must put him first and follow him no matter what.

We used to put drugs first, which leads to death…

We used to put risk taking first, which leads to death….

We used to put sex first, which leads to death….

We used to put cutting/self-injury first, which leads to death…

But now,

Oh now we have something glorious!

We put HIM first, which leads to LIFE!

HalleuYah. Amen.

We all struggle, if you are being tempted please remember that no temptation will overtake you that you cannot overcome with HIM. He always gives us a way out, he always shows us the narrow path that leads to life and bids us to walk in in—with Him.

I wish healing for you all.

Shalom.

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A Time of Trials

I feel pressed in on every side. In each direction a heavy stone wall leans menacingly against me. My hands are frantically pushing back against them each in turn but I lack enough strength to hold them all up, so in a panic I realize that they are all going to crush me.

This has been my month so far. March 2016, not joyful like it should be. It is the Biblical New Year, Passover is fast approaching, the Feast of Unleavened Bread, and last but not least my first child’s 5th birthday is on March 31st. Yet, it has been one crisis after the other and my hands are shakily holding up these walls; but they keep pressing and pressing in.

First, it was the months and months of unpaid utility bills. Although I more than qualify for help, the mountains of paperwork, dealing with two separate government agencies (neither very willing to assist) and red tape and after red tape left me with shut off notices and no help in sight.

Second, my insurance company has found something wrong with the multiple pre-auth’s my suboxone/subutex doctor has given them. This means that during a month where I am struggling to keep gas and electric on I now have an essential medication NOT being paid for, while pregnant! I have been taking suboxone because of my previous heroin addiction for 8 long years (this will be addressed in future blogs dedicated solely to buprenorphine treatment and subutex in pregnancy). It is essential for my health both physically and mentally/emotionally, and it is just as important for my unborn baby because withdrawal can induce a miscarriage.

I am up against these big companies, these government agencies, these unjust bureaucracies and I can’t take it anymore. My emotional energy is run dry. My strength is just as depleted as my pathetic bank account and meager savings I am losing over this.

How can I get through? Why is this happening?

In the past I would run to my old ways. I know how to make money illegally, that is how I survived for many years before I met my husband and had my children and got clean. I briefly went back to some of my old ways when I encountered serious problems in my martial life last year and I never want to do that again (and I won’t). But the enemy does whisper “you know how to make those hundreds of dollars you need”.

Yes, with my body. The only currency I had. It was taken first, and then I learned how to sell myself. But is that the way? Are my morals worth sacrificing? Is my marriage worth destroying? Is it the message I want to send to my THREE beautiful GIRLS? That whenever life gets really, really difficult they can always sell their bodies to the highest bidder and move on? No. No. NO!

My Father in Heaven wants me to trust him. I just don’t know how. That is the truth. I do not know how!

How do I look at this mess, where I see no way out and trust that my Savior can actually rescue me?

Am I really worth more than many sparrows? Do you actually number the hairs on my head? Do you? How can I know, really know?

Also, if I am honest, this issue with my medication drags up so many buried painful memories of addiction and detoxing. I am SO scared to get sick, not only because of the horrendous physical consequences (my body has not functioned off opiates for even a single day in over 10 years) but also I am scared down to my bones over relapsing.

A relapse equals death to me. I was literally dying when I stopped using dope (heroin) and smoking crack (my true drug of choice). I suffered a heart attack, spent four days in the hospital, and I still got high after they released me. I was so sick my body was unable to keep ANY food down. I carried plastic bags with me everywhere to vomit in any time I consumed food or water. I was dying physically, and I was dying emotionally and spiritually.

It is this sick, evil, black shadow at my back; addiction. The threat of not having my medication that, for all its drawbacks, HAS indeed helped to save my life is absolutely terrifying on a level that I cannot describe to you. It is my life that I fear losing to this beast. I cannot pretend that I “would never”. That is the scariest part.

I cannot say that I “would never”
Leave my precious babies
Leave my husband
Steal from my loved ones
Lie to everyone
Go back to prostitution
Live on the streets
Etc etc etc all of the hellish things that come with active addiction.

This beast is on my back, breathing down my neck and it scares me to the core; and I am not even having cravings! I feel okay in that regard, as I typically do thanks to my medication and the other supports I have for my recovery, and my faith. But the idea, the mere thought or suggestion that it is possible to go down that road keeps me awake at night.

I hold my children just that much tighter. I feel like I built this life and this beast could come and devour it. I want to protect my life with all that I have within me, and this insurance issue drags all this up for me.

So is there nothing positive to report? Is there no good news? Is there nothing faithful and true to say?

Of course there is. In fact, I had originally planned on writing some much more uplifting blog posts on the joy of watching my oldest grow, and I still plan to do so. There has been spiritual growth in this trial, but I am yet a babe and I know that there is much I need to learn. However, this post is venting over the troubles of this month. I had to purge it out of me.

Remember, saying what you fear and saying what your struggling with, making it public exposes it all and keeps the enemy from digging in his claws.

I wish peace to you all. Shalom.

*Relevant Bible Verses*

Ephesians 5:13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that is illuminated becomes a light itself

Acts 14:22 strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.

Mark 4:17 And they have no root in themselves, but endure for a while; then, when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately they fall away.

Romans 8:35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?

Matthew 10:29-31 29“Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. 30“But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31“So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.

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Coping with Stress

Don’t you just wish some days that you could pack a bag and head off to someplace sunny and beautiful and remote? Where you could sit on the sandy beaches and let your feet touch the foamy waves? Most importantly, someplace where your bills and responsibilities cannot find you? Today is certainly one of those days for me.

This month has brought about the dreaded STRESS. The details don’t really matter, they change every time, but the STRESS is always the same. For someone in recovery from mental illness and/or drug addiction, stress can be particularly damaging. We tend to have a more difficult time coping with the stressors of life compared with people who have not endured our struggles. After all, we got high mostly to avoid whatever uncomfortable emotional state we were in.

For those of us with mental illness (of any kind) stress is a big trigger for symptoms. It is extremely important to know what you can and cannot handle, and ask for help if you are overwhelmed! I have made this mistake before.

As mothers, we tend to feel the need to take care of everything. We are caring for little ones and running around from here to there, hardly taking notice of our own needs. Some days I just collapse into bed without having done a single thing for myself because I have been meeting the needs (the many needs!) of these little people around me. However, this is not good! Especially during stressful trials, it is essential to care for yourself and ask for assistance where you may need it.

When my oldest child was only a baby, I endured a lot of hardship in my marriage and actually ended up in a family homeless shelter for a few months. I was under a tremendous amount of stress to find a place for us to live and enough resources to live off of. I held it down while at the shelter but once I found a tiny closet of an apartment for us to move into, I just fell completely apart.

I was incredibly depressed. I was hardly functioning at all. I was lost in my head all day long tormented by my PTSD. I was taking care of my daughter in only the most basic of ways; her clothes were clean, she was getting bathed, she was fed, her diaper was changed—but I was NOT okay! I really needed help, but what held me back from asking?

Shame!

Fear!

I was scared of disappointing my mother and everyone else. I was constantly in psychiatric units as a teenager and young adult but I had finally been doing well ever since I got pregnant with my daughter. I felt embarrassed to admit that I was no longer doing well. I was ashamed.

I was fearful of what kind of reactions I would receive. Would I be deemed an unfit mother? Would I be seen as a hopeless case? Would everyone be terribly disappointed in me?

I was also very reluctant to leave my baby daughter, who was very young and very attached to me. How could I leave my baby, even for one week? How would my mother take off work? It just seemed impossible, and I didn’t want to burden anyone with helping me.

I have to tell you; I really regret not asking for help. Although I didn’t start getting high again (by the skin of my teeth), I did fall back into some very destructive behaviors. I also realize now that the best thing possible for my daughter at that point was for her mother to be mentally healthy. It didn’t matter that I was with her physically if I was distant and unable to care for her emotionally. Maybe only one week of rest and therapy would have improved my situation.

I wish I could tell you that now I always ask for help whenever I need it. I wish I could say that I learned my lesson and I don’t need to learn it again. This would not be entirely true. There have been other times since then where I really wasn’t doing so well and had put too much on my plate. I still do not like asking for help.

However, I have gotten much better at knowing my own limitations. If something is just too much for me, I acknowledge that and remove it from my life. I am currently in school with the goal of getting my R.N, but I am going to school part-time because I know my limitations and full-time school plus caring for my children is just too much for me to handle. I felt bad about that at first. I felt like a failure. I felt like I would never be “normal”. Now I understand that this is just who I am and these are the struggles that I have. Learning to work with myself rather than hating myself for failing to meet the expectations of others has helped keep me mentally healthy, and improved my ability to perform well in school and other areas of life.

So, back to this being a particularly stressful month. Sometimes the stress in our lives is not something we can control! This is the worst kind of stress, because we can add the feeling of helplessness to it. Again, this is a good time to ask for help. If you don’t have a person to help you (keep trying to find someone!) there is always One who we can go to for help to endure our trials—our Father in Heaven! Our Savior, His Son!

Pray. Pray. Pray. And then pray some more.

Read psalms. Read stories of how Yahweh has helped His people over and over throughout time. Take comfort in His ability to help us. There is a lesson to be learned. There is something, somewhere, that is good to come of this trial.

I hope you take comfort in that if you are struggling. I know I do.

And you know what else really helps stress? Hugs from your children. There is nothing that can more quickly change my heart from fearful and stressed out to calm and peaceful than hugs from my baby girls.

I wish you peace. Shalom.

*Relevant Scripture Verses, brackets inserted by me*

Romans 8:28 We know that all things work together for the good of those who love

God[Elohim]: those who are called according to His purpose.

1 Peter 5:10 And after you have suffered a little while, the God [Elohim] of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ[Messiah], will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

Romans 12:12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.

Psalm 91:4 He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

John 16:33 I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. [words of Messiah]

James 1:2-8 Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. …

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Broken, but with Hope! (First Blog Post)

I come to you in my late 20s, a mother of many, and in some ways; broken. When something breaks, typically we inspect it to determine if it can be fixed- if so, we must decide if it’s worth fixing. I may not want to fix a broken glass jar if I only paid 5 dollars for it and fixing it would require 10. However, when it comes to a person being broken, there is no price too high for them to be “fixed”.

The funny thing about people though, is that once we fix the most noticeable cracks we see a thousand more than need fixing! In other words, this is a lifelong process of healing those fractured lines. The first step is to acknowledge that we do indeed have cracks that must be fixed, and some of us are more broken than others.

When I was a preteen, I decided that I didn’t want to live anymore. I stood on my wooden balcony in my two story rented home and wondered if jumping onto the concrete below would suffice. Images of broken bones and still surviving kept me from that jump. I had many daydreams of tying rope onto my ceiling fan and hanging myself there, I pictured the reactions and my funeral. I thought to myself, then they will know my pain.

As a young teenager, barely past 14, I gave up all pretenses and let it all go. My mother spent the next several years desperately trying to keep her only child alive. The despair is not something that words can ever adequately express; something akin to drowning daily, but hopelessness is the what drives the thoughts of suicide.

Hopelessness. Think about it for a moment! What gives a laboring woman the strength to go on in the midst of her worst pain? Hope! She is fighting for that baby, the hope of holding him in her arms and cradling him against her skin. The pain is overwhelming for many of us, but yet we dig deep and find the strength to push our baby into this world and into our arms.

Hope keeps her strong. Hopelessness is what drives the severely depressed person to finally end it all. They cannot see a way out of the suffering. Maybe they have tried, almost certainly they have. They have probably tried many, many times; because people do not give up on life easily. Death is not the first choice in one who suffers, it is only the last act of one who has abandoned all hope.

I know. I didn’t try it as a preteen, but when I was 19 and in the military (a horrible attempt at stability) I went into a bathroom stall and methodically swallowed an enormous bottle of pills. There were only a few remaining, my stomach could not bear a single one more. I wrote a quick note about how sorry I was inside my pocket bible they gave to us all before boot camp, and then I made my way to my bunk for my forever sleep—only I didn’t make it. My bunk-mates noticed my woozy behavior due to the pills shutting down my ability to speak or walk properly, and urgently called one of our drill sergeants. He picked me up and put me over his shoulder. I remember seeing ambulance lights before the world went black.

I assume they pumped my stomach but I have no recollection of it. I woke up attached to a lot of tubes and machines. I didn’t feel relief, nor did I feel sadness or anger. I felt only indifference.

My story is too big to be told in this single blog post, but my brokenness was a constant battle for me. The simplest things in life caused my strength to go falling down like a house of cards. I just could not endure- until I could!

Slowly. Very slowly.

Painfully. Very painfully.

In spurts and sputters and stops, I started to make my way down this long journey called recovery.

Along the way, I have gathered more beauty to myself than I ever imagined in even my wildest dreams. How does a dead woman feel when she comes back to life? This is me, every day that I breath; every day that I live this life with these beautiful children and husband.

Nothing is perfect. There have been more falls, more mistakes, more backsliding than I wish to admit were true. I wish I could say that at the age of 21 I was baptized in the water of redemption, in a magnificent lake surrounded by wonderful people, and I never messed up again. Those old broken lines never showed up, and new ones never formed. But that would be a lie, and I am not here to lie to you.

I will be honest, even brutally so. The truth will set us free, and what is said in the light the darkness cannot grab a hold of. So, here I am. A mother. In recovery. Living. Alive! Open my heart and see if anything reflects your experiences. Take what is helpful, and leave the rest. Forgive me if I lack insight, or the ability to say the right thing. All I offer is my story, which has not even begun to end; and my hand open to your hand, so we can pull one another up as we walk this road of recovery and motherhood together.

I wish you peace today. Shalom.

*Related Scripture*

 

Psalm 143:7 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Romans 12:15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: 10 If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES
(My second child, Liora, and I two years ago)

 

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