Being Real

Can you guess the topic of this blog?  It's the same as 90% of the blogs published in the last 24 hours.  Who am I to be an individual?

There is a lot to be said about suicide.  From the perspective of those left behind, it appears to be a totally irrational and selfish act.  How could anyone not know or care that their actions will hurt so many others?  Don't they know that tomorrow is another day?  Suicide is permanent whereas their problems are temporary.
From the other side, the dark side, things look very different.  I won't presume to know how it is for all people who suffer with depression or who have contemplated/attempted suicide.  I will only speak from my own knowledge.  

I grew up not liking myself very much.  My parents built me up but the effects of my peers beating me down were stronger.  I knew I was loved at home, but I didn't feel liked anywhere else.  I sought to please the adults in my life because I couldn't win with other children.  The accolades only served to ostracize the other kids.  Because I wasn't accepted or invited into the "in" crowd, I lost confidence in my abilities.  Where I once enjoyed creating beautiful things (My dad was my biggest fan and encourager calling me his artsy craftsy girl), I decided to give up trying when my work didn't measure up to the standards of the other kids.  There wasn't anything I could do about being short and freckled and redheaded and apparently these were things to be despised.

Fast forward to puberty and hormone hell.  Mix these with the aforementioned self-hatred and it is easy to see where things could take an ugly turn.  I remember being home sick from school one day.  I was doing some required reading and got caught up in the story of a troubled girl who had turned to drugs and alcohol and sex to escape her pain.  I am pretty sure that wasn't the lesson the school was hoping we would take away.  It didn't end well for the character, but I figured it was worth a try.  What I found was more self-loathing and I was sure that no one else could understand how I felt.

Later on, I fell in love with an abusive person.  I would be the woman who could save him.  Deep down inside I knew I was wrong, but at least I wasn't alone.  He accepted me.  I had a couple of close friends but I was too ashamed to tell them what I had gotten myself into.  One day I hit a place so low that I attempted to take my life.  I remember the way it played out.  It was as if I was outside of myself.  I could see myself going through the motions of my job, but I was making preparations to kill myself.  Nothing held any joy for me.  I wasn't thinking of the family who loved me.  All I could see was my pain.  A pain so dark it blocked out all light.  I did not yet have a personal relationship with my Savior, so there was no hope as far as I could tell.

My first attempt was unsuccessful, and I was hospitalized for a week.  This left me with bills I could not afford to pay.  Fear set in.  I found myself homeless and out of work, and still with the same boyfriend.  My self worth was non-existent.  I was no good to anyone, completely useless.  Two more overdoses left me sick but still alive.  I do not remember when or how I came to my senses, but I finally rid myself of the man who only sought to drag me down to his level.  This was not the end of my darkness, however.  I continued to devalue myself and it is only by the grace of God that I did not end up dead in a ditch somewhere. 
I know that my depression was not a chemical imbalance, but it was very real just the same.  I am grateful to have found hope in Jesus Christ.  I found my worth in Him.  He saved me from my attempts to destroy myself.  Without Him, I don't believe I could have survived the pregnancy losses, or the marital turmoil, or the death of our son.  Before Jesus, there was only darkness.  He shone a light into my life that I can see even in my darkest hours.

So, I understand the people who are saying that faith is the key to survival.  It has been the only thing that has kept me alive.  I cannot speak about physical depression requiring medical treatment.  That is another animal altogether. 

I do know that the first step out of darkness is to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  A light called hope.