More Tender Mercies Helped Me Survive... and thrive

The Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ….

The first 24 hours in the BHU were so tough, I think my body was kind of shutting down. All day I couldn't pee. I finally told the night nurse and he called the Dr. The Dr told the nurse to do an ultrasound and check my bladder levels, if it was over 300 ml go ahead and cath me. The scan came back between 450-500 ml. Luckily there was an experienced female nurse working too and the student nurse did the cath to make us all feel more comfortable. Over 580 ml came out! No wonder I was so uncomfortable! There were also some other physical reactions. It's amazing how stressed our bodies can get!

During the day we would have an individual therapy session with the social worker, meet with the psychiatrist, group therapy and recreation therapy. We were also given assessments every morning and night by the nurses, it was often a more comfortable place for me to talk- but don't worry, they all told each other every thing we said. :) Every person who talked to us would ask if I had suicidal thought, if I had plans and if I hope for the future. It took me until my last day there to say I had hope. When asked what that hope was all I could say was I hoped that I could get better.

In group therapy they would ask us to introduce ourselves. The first day I said; "I'm Stephanie, I'm here for the weekend." The third day I said; "I'm Stephanie, I'm here for depression." Finally by the last day I could say; "I'm Stephanie, I'm here because I wanted to kill myself." It was amazing to watch me grow and be braver and it became easier and easier to admit how I'd been feeling.

On the first day of group the only other person had been called out and the Social Worker said "imagine yourself as an old, healthy lady." As soon as she said this the tears started flowing because I couldn't picture myself as an old lady. I later told my night nurse that I couldn't imagine myself in one year let alone 30 years.

Rec therapy was a life saver for me. I'd forgotten how much I love to "create". The first day we modge podged little wooden boxes. It was so relaxing to me to make this cute little box. At first when I knew I'd have to make crafts I though for sure I'd throw it awas as I walked out the door. Instead they became things that were very calming and healing to me. And now that box sits on my bathroom counter and when I look at it I feel calm and am reminded that was my first step to healing. It also reminds me that I need to continue to create. We also covered notebooks and wrote down anti-anxiety play lists. And we made collages of things that were "self care" items for us. It was so therapeutic to cat and paste- kind of like kindergarten.

Each day as we did these activities we'd talk and sometimes share experiences. This was for sure where I did my best talking. It's much easier to talk when the hands are busy.

My last day, just minutes before I was to leave, we were asked to share what happened in our crisis situation. This was the first time I really opened up about what those couple of days before I came into the hospital had been like and how scary it was. I felt like a huge load was lifted off my shoulders.

While there I met some interesting people- ordinary people facing extraordinary experiences. Anna was my favorite. She came in the middle of the night after me and stayed until Monday morning. She came in addicted to heroin/cocaine combo. The first morning she looked like a shell of a person. It was so hopeful to watch her eyes brighten as she came alive. She was a 23 year old single mom of 2. She loved her babies and missed them dearly. She left to go to a rehab in California. I think of her constantly and hope the she can get better and show the world who she truly is! There were others- all impacted me somehow.

I am grateful for the lessons I learned while in the hospital the tender mercies I felt and the angels who were put in my path.

In the trenches

"In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." -Albert Camus

The morning after my day in the closet, Friday, September 26, 2014, a day that is forever etched in my mind. I got up with more energy and feeling determined with a decision made of what I was going to do. Unfortunately the determination and decision were both wrong ideas.

September 26 is the anniversary of my Dad's death 24 years ago. I don't know if that date had anything to do with my feelings but  I know I was having tender feelings about my dad. It is amazing to me that I can miss him as badly as I do even 24 years later. This was my FaceBook post that day:

24 years is a long time. It's a lot of missing someone. A lot of wondering what advice he would give. A lot of wishing I could have a Father's blessing. A lot of missing "leap years & reindeer stew". A lot of wishing my kids had a grandpa and my mom had a companion. But it's also a lot of times the veil has been thin. And a lot of times I can understand someone else's pain. And a lot of faith that life is eternal.

I felt those feelings so strongly. I felt that faith and the understanding that I'd learned from this trial of missing my dad since I was 15.

I knew that things in my brain weren't right, but I didn't know what to do. I called my counselor, there was no answer so I left a message. I decided to go on with my plan. He called me back within 30 minutes or so but I knew by then what I was doing so I led him to believe everything was fine (I really think I was so resigned to what was going to happen that everything WAS fine) and told him I was at a friend's house, because I was. The truth was everything I needed to end my life was in my van and I had a, hopefully, fail proof plan.

I had my day planned out. I went and got my nails done, zoned and visited with a friend. Then I went to lunch with two other very good, old friends. I said good-bye thinking in my heart that I would not see them again here on this earth. I had arranged a baby sitter to drop Mick off with but I wanted to play with him at the park one more time. We stopped at a park in Hyde Park and I let him play and play. As I watched and interacted with him it all the sudden hit me "You can't do this, this is wrong." It was as if a person was right there talking to me, looking back, I'm almost certain it was my dad protecting me from my terrible decisions.

I started to cry (and I don't think I quit crying for about 9 hours) I didn't know what to do. I knew if I called Dr F I would be sent to the hospital, and quite honestly, I think I knew that's where I needed to be. But boy was that a scary thought. As I sat and cried and wondered what to do, my friend's, who is a social worker at the hospital, name came to me. Through a series of small miracles I was able to get in touch with her. I told her a little what was going on and asked her to help explain what was going to happen. She was so kind, she talked me through it and made sure I could be safe until I could get help. She told me that this was a healthy, brave decision.

I put Mick in the car and then as I was driving home I called Dr F. I told him what was up (well little bits of it) and we agreed it was time for the hospital. I drove home and knew that I would wait until Doug got home to go. Doug walked in the door about 5 minutes after I did. He said he just had a feeling he needed to come home from work early.

All of these things working together were just the beginning of the tender mercies that I was going to experience over the next few hours and days. As I've thought back on this day the thought occurred to me; Even when you think there is no hope, there is always a glimmer. You only need to be brave for 20 seconds for everything to change.

I was only brave long enough to call my friend and Dr F- two 20 second times, after that it was out of my hands. I just had to go along for the ride.

Where Did This Come From?

“Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”  - CS Lewis

I'm sure I dealt with mild depression as a teenager and other times during my life . One doctor told my mom I had depression and I just got mad because I'm not a "depressed" person. In fact, most people who I’ve told are surprised to hear that I have depression. I'm a naturally happy, optimistic, loving, serving person who easily sees the beauty in the world. I still am all those things but 2013 put a big kink in who and what I was.

In Summer 2012 I got very ill. I spent months being sick, in pain and throwing up. Finally at the first of May of 2013 I flew to Indianapolis, to the nation's expert of sphincters, to have surgery. The surgery was successful and I felt better almost immediately, in fact, I started running again 1 1/2 weeks after the surgery (I was told I could as soon as I felt no
pain). Within a few weeks I received some more bad health news and my husband got laid off.  I started feeling depressed. I had no energy and had a hard time getting out of bed and functioning normally. I visited my primary care Dr., she is amazing! She put me on Prozac and had me go back in a month. I felt quite a bit of improvement and
overall was able to carry on my normal life, although there was still some sadness. 

My husband is an electrician as a result we ride the wave of the economy with his employment we had been dealing with periods of unemployment since 2009. He got laid off in mid-May but I figured he'd quickly be back to work because it was coming up on summer. By the end of July he still hadn't been rehired (he was a union boy) and I knew
that it was just going to become slimmer and slimmer that he would get a job. This contributed to driving me into a deeper depression and, unfortunately, the thoughts of suicide started going through my mind about this time. I knew then it was time to get help- I had too much to live for.I had no idea who to go to or where to get help but luckily our Heavenly Father knew.  

I had the opportunity to be on an Epic Relay team (a footrace of 205 miles, Smithfield to Jackson Hole) with 11 other girl's from my running group. These events are always life changing and one of the few places, as adults, that we get to feel real camaraderie and teamwork. 

There's no competition with each other just the "big hairy audacious goal" of getting us to the finish line as a team. After coming back from this exhilarating weekend I posted this message on our team FaceBook page:

Ladies, I have to tell you "thanks"! It's been a really hard few months and I've really been struggling with my will to even go on. I get up every morning and put a smile on my face and try to make it through the day but inside I've been dying. But that changed this weekend, I don't know why. Maybe it was doing something hard, maybe it was seeing a great group of ladies work together to accomplish what seemed impossible or maybe it was losing myself in the thinking about others. What ever it was, I'm grateful. Hoping it stays. Or we may have to go run another 200 miles together somewhere...

One of the darling girls on my team e-mailed me and told me she had some experience with the things I was feeling and told me her story. Although it was very different it was also very similar. She told me that she had been helped a lot by her counselor and she would be willing to e-mail him and ask him if he could suggest a good counselor for someone in my situation. She got back to me with a couple of names and said either would be excellent. I called and was able to get into Dr F within a week. Luckily, I immediately felt good and trusted him, I know how rare it can be to find a counselor you like on the first try.

I started seeing Dr F in August of 2013 and have been seeing him almost weekly since then. He diagnosed me with Major Depressive Disorder and severe Anxiety. He told me that I have the genetics, the stressful situations and the medicines I had been on for so many months had depressed my mind. We worked hard and fought this disease, finally in the Spring I started feeling better, stronger and was coming out of the darkness. It was so nice to finally be able to relax and breathe a little.