an untold story of depression

My hands are shaky typing this. My heart is pounding. Yesterday I responded to people's comments about depression (in light of Robin William's suicide) that if we were all more transparent then maybe mental illness would not have such a stigma. Maybe with transparency would come more people speaking up about the help they need. I felt convicted that transparency can start with me.

Few know this story. Few know the hold depression had on me 15 years ago. Few know that when it did my dogs were almost shot when the ambulance arrived. Few know that I threw up charcoal for 24 hours. Few know that would have been Baker Acted. Few know that I almost died 15 years ago.

Here is my depression story. I am telling it because I survived the hold depression had on me. I am telling it so if you are reading and struggling with the same sickness that you know you are not alone. I am telling it so that you know help is a phone call away. I am telling it so that you can be aware of people in your life who may be suffering. Depression is an illness. It is beyond being sad. It is not something a person just changes.

I was diagnosed with "situational depression", meaning I let situations in my life have a deep impact on my emotions with no way to deal with them. Truth be told, it was bubbling under my surface since my freshman year in college. Hindsight is a wonderful tool in that it lets you see the signs that no one, including yourself, recognized as cries for help. My freshman year I went from being an honors AP student to a quarter shy of failing out of college. I truly did not care about anything...school, friends, myself. My world was rocked by my parents divorce. I did not have the emotional maturity to digest just what happened. I was hours away from my family and left to deal with an enormous amount of broken pieces. I hid it by being a fun, partying sorority girl. I had few friends at UGA that knew me before. With this, it was easy to be a different person. My roommates did not know me as any different. They did not know my actions were cries for help.

My junior and senior years were better but I did not care about any of it. I graduated high school with big aspirations and graduated college with no clue what to do next. I did not fit in anywhere it seemed.

I desperately did not want to be back home. Home was no longer there for me. I tried to escape to the river and then the Americorps. I eventually made my way back home more lost than ever before. From there I settled into almost an alcoholic's life. I maintained a job during the day and played all night. I did not need alcohol the way an alcoholic does, but I needed the act of it to feel like I fit in with those folks I was hanging around.

From the outside looking in, all was great. I had a good job, new car, bought my first house at 25, fun friends, boyfriend. The inside was very different though. My relationships were shaky. I had a boyfriend who made me very insecure. I was still reeling from my parents divorce all those years later. I still felt like I did not fit in anywhere. I was lonely with a sea of friends and family around me.

At the time, I had no faith. Even there I was alone. I was not considered Jewish because my mother is now Jewish. I was not sought after by Christians because they all thought I was Jewish. It was such a lonely place to be. I was out of place in a synagogue and horribly uncomfortable in a church.

I did decide to try and fill that void. I came to know Jesus, but only on paper, if I am truly honest. I saw Him as my ticket to eternity in Heaven but not as my Hope.

In the mean time, I did seek counseling. I did not look at my depression as an illness but something I should be able to talk myself out of being. Counseling did help. I did end up on an antidepressant that did more harm than good. Because I was not honest with anyone with what was really going on, my primary doctor prescribed me Ambien to help me sleep.

There I was, thinking I had Jesus, desperately trying to make a failing relationship work, maintaining appearances with friends, family and co-workers. But, on the inside I was blank. I cannot put into words the feeling depression can cause. Blank is the only word that describes it.

Then came July 4. That morning I remember being in the shower and feeling the most depressed and alone feeling I have ever had. I had no plans. My relationship was officially over. My friends all seemed to have other things to do. I let the water run over me and thought, "if I just left would anyone notice?". Sadly, what snapped me out of those thoughts was the fact that I had two dogs and cat. I knew that if I just walked away from life never to return that they would notice. They depended upon me. With that, I made myself snap out of it and carry on with my day.

Looking back, my sister knew something was off with me, but surely had no idea just how deeply. She came to visit and talked me into coming out to a party at her house that evening. So, I did.

Again, a surge of loneliness overwhelmed me. It is hard to describe how you can feel alone in a sea of people. Genuine, nice, loving people...and I felt like I was alone and blank. What set that night apart from others was the fact that I did not have my ID. Of all things, I could not get into Pete's Bar without it. That left me literally alone. With this, I biked back to my sister's apartment frantic and scared. My intention was to just sleep on her couch and hope when I woke the next morning how I was feeling would be gone.

Instead, after getting woken by late-night partying roommates, I drove myself home. I remember that drive like it was a dream.

I got home and was afraid, lonely and terribly sad. I wanted desperately to be able to go to sleep and wake up when I was better. I did not want to die. I honestly think, that while my relationship with Him had yet to develop, that Jesus has planted just enough of a seed of Hope to keep me from thinking death was better. My insecurity over my failed relationship was overwhelming. With this, I called him as I was taking a handful of Ambien. I do not even know why I called. But, that call did save my life. He called my mom and 911.

The next 24 hours I also remember like a dream. I remember Neptune and Bailey barking. I later learned it was at the firemen and police men attempting to get in. Had my mom and our friend not gotten there when they did, my door would have been banged down and potentially my dogs shot. I remember being loaded into an ambulance and wondering what the neighbors would think of me now. I remember drinking a thick black drink in a very bright hospital room. It was charcoal to filter the Ambien and make me throw it up. It worked. I threw up for the next 24 hours. I remember our friend, Marj, taking my hand and helping me sign a piece of paper. I later learned it was a paper committing myself to Baptist Hospital. Without my signature, I would have been Baker Acted for seven days. I remember waking in a dark room with another person sleeping in the bed next to me. I remember being scared. I remember going to the bathroom just to see that the laces had been removed from my shoes. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing black all over my face and teeth. I remember that there was not a toothbrush so I tried with my finger to erase the black. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor sobbing. I remember throwing up one more time.

From there, I learned that I was supposed to stay at the in-patient psych ward at the hospital for three days. I skipped the group meeting and met directly with the head doctor. I ran the hospitals's UW campaign and I think he remembered me. After much pleading, he called my mom. The Lord intervened then. The doctor released me to my mom that afternoon upon my agreement to attend AA. Looking back, it is sad that they only saw me as an alcoholic and not a depressed person. Drinking just covered my emotions.

And, that was it. I went home. I cleaned myself up. I cried into my dogs. The thought that my actions could have resulted in their deaths shook me to the core.

I did attend two AA meetings as directed. What they did for me was allow me to see my life in a new way. The people there showed me just who I was and what I had to offer. It was freeing to be with people who were willing to admit they too needed help. The problem was, I was not an alcoholic, so being there felt fake. I was shocked at some of the faces I saw there. People I knew from my professional life and our community were there. People, just like me, who seemed to have it all together but still needed help. I looked at them and thought, "it's okay to be in need of help.".

That lead to a change. It was a gradual change. I no longer felt alone. I relied on friends more but still few knew what actually happened. I stopped comparing myself to everyone else. I let go of that relationship fully and moved forward. I flushed every ounce of Ambien and antidepressants. I started exercising. I found a comfort in the gym and the people there. If you are sweating and barely breathing from an intense workout, it is hard to be fake. I started to learn just who Jesus is. I let the hope He brings settle into me.

The thing is, I could have lost it all that night. I did not intend to die, but I just about did. I did not share the depth of my depression with anyone because I did not want to let them down. I was still not comfortable letting my friends and family know the full depth of my emotions. There is a good chance some are learning about that night for the first time in reading this. In reality, years of trying to be someone to everyone let me keep a facade that few saw through.

So, I leave you with my story. There are far more details to it. But, in the end, please take this and use it to show others that they are not alone. I was a successful, talented, loving 26 year old on the outside, but a sad, lonely child on the inside.

The grace of God saved me that night.

And, if you only know me as myself today. Know that the story above is why I am the way I am. I am transparent so that you will be comfortable being transparent with me. I am in awe of the Lord who pursued me to the brink of death to be His child on earth. I am empathetic to anyone with any need because I had a need so deep that only God could help me. If I do not drink with you one night, or accept a 2nd cocktail know that it is because every so often I worry I could slip back into letting a drink cover my emotions. Know that I look at Grant, Cate and Colin sometimes with tears because had God not intervened that night we would not have what we do today. And, finally, please know that if my story is in the least familiar to how you are feeling today, please call me. I will sit by you the entire way as you get healthy.

Luke 1:78 - 79

My sister would have been 46 today.

Many of you are reading that title and scratching your head, "Sister? Chris has an older sister?". I do, did, I am not really sure how to refer to her now. She died last June. I am not sure how to process her death. Lee was never fully part of my life, but the reason behind her absence guides me in so, so many ways.

Lee in very simple terms was an addict. The majority of my memories of her point to that. She bribed me with milkshakes when I was eight to not tell on her for smoking. I remember her being in some serious trouble for sneaking out to get high when I was 10. I remember her being a remarkable saxophonist. I remember her being a fierce competitor. I remember at 5 feet tall her making the winning basket in the duPont gym. I remember my heart sinking when we heard sirens near our house and the phone rang. We all just knew it was Lee in that accident. The Lord intervened and what should have killed her did not. I remember it being her prom night and she managed to talk the doctors and my parents into letting her go. A huge void would have been left had she died that day. 

But, today, the void is not there because she really left so many years ago. But, before the addiction took her, she had moments of grace. I remember her driving all the way up to Athens to visit with me because she knew I was literally drowning in my emotions after my parent's divorce. Maybe she knew I needed to be rescued because she did not want the same devil who trailed her to get his claws in me. I remember I was thankful she was there, but also embarrassed. I look at how I treated her and it was not nice. She did not fit in with my cute sorority sisters. Ever stuck in 80's fashion I did not want to take her out. It makes my heart hurt to think of that now. 

I know now, what Lee needed that weekend was to be accepted by her "perfect" sister. She needed to see that I too was vulnerable and needed help. Instead, I showed her that I was not in need of her help.  

We tried to have a relationship after I graduated. Lee married, had two beautiful children and lived what looked like a lovely life. And, it was, except the devil trailed Lee at every turn. I truly believe that he got his final hold on her in the weakness of post-partum depression. None of us saw it as that at the time. We saw a spoiled alcoholic who just would not grow up. As a mom and wife now, I see a woman who desperately needed Jesus. I see a woman who desperately needed a true friend and sister. I see a woman who fell for the lies the devil tells us. She was not pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough...how many enoughs do we allow ourselves to believe? 

Lee is why I won't allow the devil to get that hold. She is why I do not strive to live a life full of wealth, big houses, fancy cars, designer clothes. Lee had all of that! It masked what she did not have. Instead, I live a life full of what the devil does not offer.  

I want to live a life so that I am so aware of those around me that I cannot look past them. I think of how many times I just looked past Lee instead of sitting and talking with her and knowing her. I never let her see my vulnerabilities. Instead, I just attended her fun parties and fit in with her where she was. I never invited her to fit in with me where I was. 

I am transparent to others because of Lee. She could never accept help from me because in her eyes I was "the perfect one". I want others to know just how false that is. Jesus found me in the depths. I was at a point where I was going to either cling to Him, or allow the devil to trail me too. I struggle with wondering if Lee ever had that opportunity? Did she choose her path, or did the devil just take her over? 

Our children do not know she has died. In fact, they did not even know she existed until about a year ago when Lee re-appeared because her health had taken such a poor turn. I do not have the heart to tell Cate that Lee has died because I do not want to admit that sometimes the devil wins.