Kootenai Hospital

Kootenai Hospital holds many memories for me this year. First, I went there in August when I started bleeding while pregnant and was told that my baby looked great and was most likely going to be fine. Second, I went there in September to have a D&C after losing that sweet baby. Third, I went there at the beginning of December to be admitted to the psych unit after fighting through two of the darkest months I’ve ever experienced. And fourth, I went there today to take all the fuzzy socks that everyone donated to that same psych unit.

Going to this hospital brings a rush of emotions and memories now. There’s sadness for the loss we experienced after feeling hope, for the memory of waking up from surgery and being told that I cried out to the nurse, “All I wanted was to hold my baby,” for the rock bottom moment when I knew that I had to be admitted but not knowing if I could ever be okay again. But it’s not all sadness. There’s also the tender, happy, relieving memory of hearing my baby’s heartbeat (the only time I would get to hear a healthy heartbeat before there was barely a heartbeat and then no heartbeat anymore). There was that first memory after waking up from surgery of the nurse wiping away the tears that were falling down my cheeks and rubbing my hand to comfort me, even though she knew I wasn’t fully awake yet when I started crying. There was the beautiful compassion of a friend who gave up a few hours on her busy Saturday to sit with me in the ER, listen to what was on my mind and heart, and cry with me. There was the loving example of one nurse in particular who greeted me with the most beautiful smile when I first got to the psych unit and reassured me that I was going to be okay. When I thanked her later for being so kind, she said, “I just try to imagine what it’s like to be in that position. It must be scary and overwhelming, so I look at everyone like that and make it my job to fill them with love.” There was the hopeful moment when I met with the hormone psychiatrist and realized that it was still possible to find healing, because we simply weren’t on the right treatment plan yet. There was the emotional memory my husband visiting several times during my stay and feeling all of his love and support surround me. And then there was today, the healing, grateful moment when I could take all the sadness and heartbreak that this last year has brought into my life, and with the generosity of so many people, give a gift of comfort, warmth, light, and encouragement. All I wanted was to give 16 pairs of socks, one for each potential patient in that unit on Christmas, and I was able to give 54! I can’t even put into words how much that means to me and how much it has helped my heart find peace.

As I reflect back on my different experiences with this hospital in the last year, it all strengthens my testimony of Jesus Christ. Because of Him, there is no darkness, no pain, no heartache, no grief, and no sorrow that can’t be overcome. Because of Him, there is the chance to rise again when we have fallen, there is someone who understands through experience everything we go through and feel, and there is always hope. This Christmas season has been really emotional for me for lots of reasons, but through the love and kindness of so many people and my testimony of how the birth of Jesus Christ impacts my life, I’m slowly but surely getting back up from the dark place I was in and finding the strength to begin healing.

Uplifting Notes

This morning, I couldn't stop crying. There were so many things on my mind-- how hard this last year has been, how hard it will be to fully heal from the things I've experienced, how confusing it is that we had to lose a baby which has caused a lot of this increased struggle and now have to wait so long to have another, how scary it is wondering if this new treatment plan will work, how hard it is to accept that sometimes our lives just don't go the way we thought they would, etc.-- and it all came out in non-stop tears. I dropped Brooklyn off at school and then drove to the store to make copies of the notes that will go inside the socks for the hospital. I sat in the parking lot for a good 10 minutes trying to pull myself together but with no luck. I finally decided to just get out and go, hoping my eyes weren't too red and my cheeks not too tear-stained.

I went inside and asked for 50 copies of each page on bright colored paper and then waited. While I was standing on the other side of the counter, I saw the woman making the copies reading each of the little notes. After she got done, she turned around and asked what this was for. I told her and watched as her whole body visibly melted and softened. And then she asked if she could make an extra copy, because she knows someone who without a doubt needs these words right now.

I started to cry. I couldn't get out the words, but what I wanted to tell her was that these are all words people have said to me in times when I have needed them most, and I'm simply passing on the love and kindness that others have shown to me. She was touched by hearing who would be receiving these uplifting messages and gave me a discount on the copies.

I walked out of the store with a smile on my face. Without knowing it, this woman lifted a huge burden and reminded me, once again, that there is some good that can come from darkness and pain. She warmed my heart today!

I wanted to share these notes with anyone else who needs them today. You are loved!

The Hospital

This last Saturday, after five days of a depression so severe that I could hardly eat or drink anything, my body and mind were weak. The suicidal thoughts had raged constantly for days, and I had very little strength in fighting to overcome them. I texted one of my biggest supports over the last year who suggested that I go to the hospital to be admitted. I have considered this many times in the last two months as things have been so incredibly difficult but have never gone out of fear.

Three years ago, almost to the day, I was admitted to the hospital in Iowa, and it was a horrifying experience to say the least. I felt much more like a prisoner than a patient and vowed that I would never put myself through that kind of torture again. And yet, here I was, considering the thing that scared me most and knowing my life depended on it.

With hardly enough strength to talk, I called an angel of a friend and asked her if she could take me to the hospital so Kyle could be home with our kids. She dropped everything to come to my aid and stayed with me in the ER holding my hand, comforting me, and telling the nurses the things that were too hard for me to say.

After a few hours and a bag of IV fluids, the admission process was complete, and I was taken to the psych ward. I didn't know what to expect or feel until a kind, loving nurse greeted me. She treated me like a normal person with a big, hard problem, and I knew in that moment that I would be okay.

To make a long story short, I was able to meet with a psychiatrist who specializes in hormones, and she provided me with long-sought and earnestly prayed-for answers. We immediately stopped my previous medications and started a new treatment plan. Now I am waiting to see if this is the solution that can finally bring lasting relief.

Right now, I am cautiously optimistic and hopeful. I have been through a lot of dashed hopes in the last 3 years, so it's hard to feel completely sure about this one yet, but I'm holding onto faith in better days to come. I am also overwhelmed (in a good way) with all the love and support my family has been shown in this difficult time. We are beyond blessed and humbled to see the goodness of people all around us. I'm thankful to be home with my family now. We need each other. This painful road is not over yet, but I know that I'm not alone and will continue to be carried through my darkest days.

Kyle Avery shared this poem with me during one of his visits at the hospital. I could never do hard things without his love, support, encouragement, and strength.

Joy

I read this quote this morning and it really touched my heart. I wanted to share in case it could touch or uplift another heart.

"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." ~Rumi

Kyle's Christlike Example

When I think of someone who gives Christlike service, many wonderful people in my life come to mind. But the greatest example of Christlike service I will ever know is my husband. He has supported and loved me as we have weathered the storms of life together. Last week, I had a really really rough evening and cried far into the night as Kyle held me and I told him what was weighing so heavily on my heart and mind. The next morning, I woke up to find little love notes hanging all around our house. I don't know many people who would be so loving, kind, and patient through the hell we've been through in the last year, but Kyle has always been there. He may not understand what I feel, but he is willing to listen and comfort me and will repeat to me as many times as I need to hear it that he loves me and needs me just as I am. He gives me the strength to stay.

Home

One year ago, we packed up our little apartment, left all of our Iowa friends and the comfort of a place we had called home behind, and traveled across the country to make a new home. I cried much of the three days and nights we drove as the anxiety of making new friends and adjusting to a new place felt overwhelming. I prayed a lot in those three days (actually it was just a continuation of many prayers I had prayed in the last month since finding out we were moving) that there would be people prepared to help our family face the darkness of depression that was just beginning to surround me again after delivering Garrett. I felt fear and loneliness as I wondered once again if anyone could love someone in a situation like mine. I worried that no one would understand me or care about me or be available to wrap me in their arms when my heart felt like it was breaking.

But I moved forward in faith knowing that this had felt right when the opportunity first presented itself and that Heavenly Father was aware and would take care of me and my family.

Little did I know at that time what wonderful people Heavenly Father had prepared for us-- people who would listen to countless hours of me explaining what my mind and heart felt, people who would ask questions because they really wanted to understand, people who would drop anything to sit with me while my world was dark, people who would repeat to me as many times as I needed to hear it that this struggle does not make me any less loved, people who would wrap me in their arms and cry with me when there were no words to say, people who would help me get the medical help I desperately needed, and people who would save me in the hardest year I have ever experienced. It brings me to tears when I think of the selfless service and kindness that has been shown to our family in the last year.

And now this place is home.

Enjoy the Good

Every time I am manic (which is usually once a month for a day or two, maybe even a few if we are lucky🤞) Kyle says, "We know the next 24 hours will be good. What do we want to do with them?" I love having him by my side to spontaneously make the most of the good days and to help me get through the ugly days. We'll have to see what wonderful adventures tonight holds for us. I'm sensing a random trip to the thrift store to celebrate 😂
#EnjoyTheGood #SoHappyTogether #ThriftStoresRock #ManiaRocksMore

My Birthday

The days and weeks leading up to my birthday, I cried a lot. I didn't want that day to come. It felt like this painful reminder that it's been another year and I'm still not better, that I am still so young and overwhelmingly have so much life ahead of me yet to live, and that this used to be one of the most exciting days of the year but I am different now.

Despite all of the worrying and sadness leading up to it, yesterday was quite possibly the best day of the last year. I literally felt showered in love. I felt the warmth of so much friendship surrounding me and lifting me up. I felt like I could have a new start for my life, like I could build on the brokenness of the last while and make sense of some things again.

The best part of it all though was that I had my appointment with the hormone doctor after getting lab results back, and it was incredibly hopeful. It's going to take some time and tweaking to figure out how much supplementing I need, but he is confident that he knows what the problem is and that there are very good days ahead.

Also, I was too busy soaking in the day yesterday, so this is the only picture I got. 😂 Thanks to everyone who made me feel special and loved. I can't really describe how much it meant to me.

What Makes Life Worth Living

This last month has been the hardest month of depression I've ever experienced. The days are long as I fight every day to find the hope and strength to continue living. Often as I am laying flat on my back in bed trying to survive until Kyle can get home, the thought slowly creeps into my mind, "Is it worth it? Is it worth it to go through so much heartache and bitter pain only for fleeting, intermittent moments of light? Is it worth it to put in the effort it takes to heal from where my heart and mind have been? Is it worth it to keep trying, knowing that things aren't better yet so this isn't the last time I'll be in this dark, painful place?" When these questions arise, I make it my mission to find what makes life worth living. It's taken a lot of effort to find it this last month, but the glimmers of hope have been there as I've tried to focus on looking for them.

--My family will forever be my main reason to hold on. Loving them and being loved by them makes my life worth living, even when it is difficult. They bear my burdens with me and make them lighter, like this last weekend when Kyle got our whole house cleaned. My family has always given me a reason to feel loved and needed, and they are willing to do anything to help me stay.
--Garrett is 16 months old and has struggled with learning to talk. We have been working with a speech therapist for the last 3 months, and this week, he said, "uh oh" for the first time. Since then, he has been trying to make more sounds too. Hearing his sweet, sweet voice made me feel that it was worth it to be there for that one beautiful moment.
--A few weekends ago, we took a hike as a family. I was really really struggling that day, so I decided to focus my time on looking for little beautiful things around me. It helped me remember that there is beauty all around me and that the darkness of depression can't take away my ability to find it.
--One morning, I was crying while making my kids breakfast. I couldn't comprehend how I was going to get through that day. I looked out our window and there was the most beautiful sunrise right in front of me. I suddenly felt this peaceful feeling that Heavenly Father was aware of me and wanted me to know that I wasn't alone.

I don't understand why things happen the way they do sometimes or why my heart has been allowed to be broken in this way, but I do know that it will always be worth it to hold on. I am determined to do whatever it takes to win this fight. And thankfully I never have to do it alone.

Halloween

I'm not going to lie. Life has been extremely overwhelming lately. The littlest things feel almost impossible to accomplish every day, and many days have been a harsh fight for life.

As things continued to get worse and as Halloween came closer and closer, I finally accepted the fact that I couldn't make cute Halloween costumes and I couldn't coordinate our family to have some fun theme this year. In some ways, this was and still is incredibly frustrating to me, because it's something I've always loved and enjoyed doing with my family. But when I went to the thrift store to buy whatever random costumes were left, I reassured myself that this is really a win, a huge mental health win. I'm taking care of myself and my family all at the same time in the best way that I know how given my current circumstances. I'm succeeding by recognizing my limits and adjusting accordingly.

I really hope to be more motivated and able to enjoy things like this again next year, but if not, I will remind myself then just like I remind myself now that ultimately my family needs me, and if that means letting go of some things to relieve stress and anxiety and exhaustion, then that is what I will do.

Not to mention, how cute are my little witch and Dumbo?! 😍

How to Help Someone Stay

14 times.

14 times something in my brain has snapped, and I have suddenly and painfully thought that I could not go on.  Each one of these times has added to the pain and trauma built up in my heart now, and yet, each one has been filled with life-saving miracles.  Unfortunately, 9 of these 14 times have been in the last 10 months.  One of the most common questions people ask me when they find out that this has been my struggle is "what can I do to help?" either in reference to me or their loved one going through similar challenges.  So I thought I could share this very vulnerable post about the most helpful things people have done for me or said to me that have given me the strength to stay.

1. Check on their immediate safety.  First and foremost, when I have reached out for help (I almost always do this by text), people have responded quickly by checking on my immediate safety.  They've done this by asking questions like: "Are you alone right now?"  "Are you thinking of doing something?"  "Can I call and talk to you?"  These important questions can allow the person I have entrusted with my deepest darkness to evaluate what is going on and decide if they need to intervene.

2. Make sure they are not alone.  If I am alone in these weak moments, people have stepped in to make sure that I am no longer alone, either by coming to my house to sit with me or by picking me up to be with them.  This is SO important, as being alone only causes the thoughts and feelings to get worse until they seem unbearable.  I literally cannot get through these moments on my own.

3. Express love.  It's difficult to emphasize enough how important this is.  Do you know how the three simple words "I love you" translate to my broken brain?  They speak to me and say, "I need you and want you to stay.  If you were gone, I would hurt, so please hold on."  These words give me strength and add to my ability to endure just a little longer.

4. Promise them that it will get better.  In my darkest moments, I am entirely blinded by the depression.  It feels like I am forever stuck in that broken place, like my world will never see light again and my heart will never heal.  Reminding me that there is hope, that how I feel in the present moment is not how I will feel forever, gives me something to hold onto again.  I can't comprehend at that time that things can possibly get better, but I can trust in someone else's hope for me.  

5. Give warm hugs.  That kind of physical contact brings immediate comfort to my aching heart.  The comfort doesn't last, but while I am wrapped up in someone else's arms, I feel safe.  The overpowering sorrow and fear subside for a small moment.

6. Help meet their physical needs.  It seems so obvious when I feel well that eating, drinking, sleeping, etc. are necessary for mental stability, but when everything in my world is falling, these important needs are difficult to meet.  My husband makes me food.  He reminds me to drink water.  He helps me do the things that are necessary for a good night's sleep, including helping me have access to sleep aids when needed.  These things are all so directly tied to mental health.  It's hard to have the strength to fight when my physical needs are being neglected, because I am too overwhelmed and tired to do these things on my own.

7. Repeat, "I won't stop loving you.  You are not burdening me."  This last while in particular, I have been paralyzed by the fear that I am going to lose everyone who has ever loved me by asking for help or telling them about this struggle.  It is terrifying when this happens, because I desperately need love, but I am often so afraid of losing the love of those closest to me by sharing my burdens with them.  I know it doesn't make sense, but I don't think I can ever hear enough in those hardest times that I am not going to lose everyone around me by asking for help.

8. Be available to listen and talk.  When I am surrounded by darkness, there are a million thoughts swirling around in my mind, and they continue swirling until I can tell someone about them.  Sometimes just hearing myself say what is on my mind allows me to recognize that it is not rational.  Other times, it is in the response the person makes that I can find clarity and peace.

9. Remind them that they only need to take things day by day or minute by minute.  This is hard to explain, because it simply doesn't make sense, but when I am severely depressed, I cannot stay in the present moment no matter how hard I try.  Everything, and I mean everything, big or small that I have to do in the near or far future fills my mind all at once, and it is understandably overwhelming.  Having someone remind me to let go of all of those things pressing on my mind relieves some of that stress until I feel better and can handle life again.

10. Have them promise you that they will stay and will continue reaching out.  Promises are powerful, even in my broken world.  Saying out loud, "I promise I won't do anything" brings incredible strength.  It's honestly very hard to say those words in the most difficult moments, because it doesn't really feel like a promise I can keep, but once I say it, I know I have to hold on.  I know I can't break my promise.  One of the best promises I have ever made is the promise to reach out to 3 people when I feel like my world has crashed.  That promise has saved me, especially in this last very difficult year.

11. Help them get the help they need, including going to the hospital if necessary.

12. Share your confidence in their ability to stay.  Some of the most helpful things people have shared with me in my darkest moments have been their expressions of confidence in my ability to endure this heartbreaking pain without giving up.  One time, someone said to me, "You have been to the lowest point multiple times before and you got back up every one of those times.  You can do that this time as well."  Another time, I was promising someone that I would reach out before doing anything.  They simply replied, "You won't do anything.  You've got this."  That confidence gives me strength.  It helps me recognize that I am stronger than this depression, and I can win.

13. Remind them that you would be sad if they were gone.  I know that might be uncomfortable to say, but for me, it helps me think outside of myself for just a moment and to remember those I love the most and how hurt they would be if I were gone.

14. Help them recognize that healing is ALWAYS possible.  Honestly, sometimes it feels like I have gone too far or I've struggled too much and can't come back from this.  One of the most comforting things someone has ever said to me was, "You haven't gone too far.  You can't go too far if you're still here."  I think of that often now, especially when the lies in my mind tell me that I am too broken to heal.

3 Years

Three years ago today, something happened that instantly changed my life forever. I remember it so perfectly to this day. I'm sure I will never be able to forget as it is etched so deeply into my memory. It was evening, Brooklyn was already in bed asleep, and Kyle and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie. All of a sudden, something powerful overcame me. It was the most painful thing I could ever imagine as an indescribably intense darkness gripped my heart and flooded my mind. I ran to my room and fell to my knees sobbing. I was beyond scared as I couldn't understand what was happening to me. Kyle followed me to our room and wrapped his arms around me as I clung to his shirt so tightly and continued sobbing. I couldn't explain to him how I felt, and that terrified me. I felt completely alone in that moment. No one could get inside my heart to feel it with me, and thus began my often frighteningly lonely journey with bipolar disorder.

At first, I was desperate for a solution. I couldn't foresee this problem lasting any amount of time, so I was willing to do anything to find lasting relief. The more time that went by, the worse the cycling got and the more I realized that this wasn't going to be an easy fix. I prayed and begged Heavenly Father to answer my desperate pleas for healing, but nothing happened. No one could figure out how to help me. This last year has been the hardest, most faith-testing, soul-stretching year of my life as things have progressively gotten worse, and I have often wondered how it is possible to survive something so painful. Last week happened to be the darkest, longest week we've had yet, and it breaks my heart to imagine how much more we will have to endure.

This next Monday, I have hormone labs, and I am pulling together all the faith I can find to believe that this will lead to a solution. I know I will be devastated if it doesn't, so I have to believe that it will. As hard as it has been to face this trial of my faith, I have literally seen miracles over the last 3 years, people who have come into my life at precisely the time I needed them, fleeting moments of clarity that have given me the strength to continue fighting, powerful examples of love and ministering that have saved me from this brokenness, and even opportunities to bless the lives of others through my increased understanding and compassion. I am a different person today than I was three years ago, but I like to believe that I have grown and changed for the better.

Opening Up

“When we open up about our emotional challenges, admitting we are not perfect, we give others permission to share their struggles. Together we realize there is hope and we do not have to suffer alone.” ~Reyna Aburto

This quote really struck me tonight. I've hesitated being very open recently, mostly because we just moved, and it's hard to be open and honest when I first meet people, because I want people to see me as I am. I don't want to be defined by depression, as it is just one part of me. But this quote gave me strength as I remembered how sharing my story in the past has given me the ability to connect and relate to people in such a beautiful way, and it can do that again if I can just be brave enough to share.

The truth is, I am struggling. There I said it. Not only is my depression back in full force after losing all of my happy pregnancy hormones and especially with winter coming closer every day, but this year I am dealing with a lot of trauma from how hard the last winter was. Few people know the extent of how much I struggled last winter, but I can oversimplify it to say that things have never been that difficult before and that miracles literally saw us through. I've spent a good portion of this last week crying alone in my closet or at a friend's house, and I'm forever thankful for the people Heavenly Father has placed in my life to bless me on my dark days. As much as it hurts and as hard as it may get, I'm holding onto faith. Faith in better days to come, faith in God's perfect plan for me, and faith that I can be strong enough to win this fight.

If you are struggling too, just know that you are not alone. You are loved. You are needed. You can do really really hard things. I am here. That's one of the beautiful blessings of struggling through this myself. I can be a safe place for anyone who needs someone to confide in. There really is hope. There is always hope.

Hormone Doctor

Today was my first appointment with the hormone doctor. After hearing my story and my medical and pregnancy history he said, "Well, your last doctor sounds like an amazing and wise doctor, and your husband sounds like a very very patient man." He couldn't be more right. I brought in my crazy tracker charts which make it very obvious that hormones are involved. He is confident that there will be a solution to this. I have some labs at the end of the month, and then based on those results, he will decide what direction to go next. I feel so much hope I could burst. I think my crazy days are coming to an end.

I Am Enough

Two months until Brooklyn's birthday. Two whole months, and I have already started worrying obsessively about making her birthday cake. Why? Because baking is beyond overwhelming when I'm depressed. Because I'm not good at it, so I know it will frustrate me. Because anxiety is my depression's best friend, and it knows no limits sometimes.

Today, I came up with a brilliant idea. I could pay someone else to make her cake. It would relieve the stress on me, she could have a beautiful mermaid cake after all, and everyone would be happy. As soon as I asked my friend and she agreed though, the guilty thoughts started to eat away at me. I suddenly felt like I was failing my kids, like they need someone else, someone more talented and fun and creative and energetic, the person I want to be and maybe could be if the burdens of depression didn't weigh so heavily on my heart so often.

Struggling with depression at this wonderful time in my kids' life is heartbreaking. But recently I've adopted the phrase "you are enough." I repeat it to myself over and over again every day. I trust in it, even when I'm bombarded with thoughts and doubts that tell me otherwise. I tell myself that this is how God sees me and how He wants me to see myself.

Do I feel like enough? Hardly ever. But I keep trusting and believing and trying, and that is enough.

Being Real

I remember being a young, naive little 12 year old. One Sunday, my beehive teacher asked as part of a church lesson, "What do you want to be remembered by?" My answer came quickly, like I didn't even need to think about it. I replied, "I want to be remembered as always being happy." At the time, this seemed easy. Surely being happy was a choice, I thought, and I would simply always make that choice.

Fast forward 4 years... I was 16 years old, and I was engulfed in depression for the very first time. Suddenly, happiness wasn't a choice anymore. I tried to keep it up. "I am happy," I'd tell myself, "Always happy." But inside, I was hollow. It seemed like everyone should be able to see right through my fake smile, but they couldn't. They didn't know anything had changed, so I kept smiling, kept faking, kept hiding. I wanted to be happy, but the feeling wasn't there very often anymore.

Fast forward 5 more years... I was a newly married 21 year old engulfed in depression again. People would say, "How are you always so happy?" and then I'd go home and cry. I felt like a fraud. No one knew that behind that bleak smile was more pain than my heart had ever before endured, but I thought I still had to hide. I had to be happy. After all, how could I ever be remembered as being a happy person all the time unless I kept a constant smile plastered on my face, even if it wasn't real?

But eventually I couldn't keep it up anymore. It hurt too much. I needed help and love and support, so I did the scariest thing imaginable at the time, and I opened up about my struggle with depression. I knew that it would change how people viewed me and that I wouldn't be viewed as the "always happy" person anymore. But something else changed that I couldn't foresee. It took time, but after a while, I didn't want to be known as the person who was always happy anymore. Instead, I wanted to be known as the person who was real, the person who wasn't afraid to admit that life hurts so deeply sometimes, the person who was relatable and available when someone else's heart and world was crumbling.

Depression has changed my life forever, but more importantly, it has changed me, and I'm thankful that I can be real and loved for it.

Tender Mercy

Today, I had a beautiful, sweet experience.  It was quite simple, yet it had such a profound impact on my heart and has changed how I view this often difficult trial I have been called to face.

For the last 3 days, I have been stuck in the dark, terrible place I call "suicidal hell."  This is when my mind is tormented every second of every day with the thought that I should not go on.  It's when my brain is so broken that there is no possible way to distinguish what is true or real anymore.  It's when I lay in bed nearly all day fighting this terrifying internal battle that shatters the most tender pieces of my heart with no relief to be found.  For these 3 days, I was convinced that I had failed my family, that they needed and even deserved someone else who wasn't so broken and debilitated by this darkness, and that I had to give up.  I simply couldn't see a way to go on, and I was desperate for an escape.  I couldn't find the adequate words to describe the storm raging inside of me, so I held in the pain and prayed with all the faith I could muster that I would have enough strength to get through yet another battle in this great war for my life.

This morning, I was physically and emotionally exhausted, but the pain was still unrelenting.  I walked to a friend's house hoping the combination of exercise, fresh air, and company would help, but as soon as I got home, the thick darkness overcame me again, and I went straight to my bed to continue fighting.  Over the next few hours, my mind and heart were overwhelmed with the weight of deep depression, and I was sure there was no relief to be found ever again.  I kept trying to write texts to explain to someone the heavy burdens I was bearing alone and to maybe ask for help, but I could never find the strength to send any of them.  Instead, I laid there wondering how this could be part of God's plan for my life and why He would allow my heart to go through so much pain with no lasting relief, despite all the prayers and fasting of my family the last several years.

As my mind continued to grow more and more weary in this fight, I started to think that maybe I needed to make a plan of escape once and for all.  I simply couldn't keep doing this, so it seemed that there was no other option.  I began to think of possible means when the thought came to my mind, "This isn't your choice to make."  It took me back.  Surely this thought had not come from the brokenness of my own mind.  And then something clicked.  I can pray and plead and wish for God to take me away, but ultimately, I have to have the faith and strength to submit to His will for my life, regardless of what that will is.  It's not my choice to decide when I have had enough.  It's not my choice to decide when I will leave this world.  It's not my choice to decide when I will be healed at last, never to be broken in this way again.

The pain didn't leave immediately, but I suddenly felt peace and calm.  It's not often that I feel Heavenly Father near me when I am severely depressed.  This is usually devastating and heartbreaking to me, because it seems that the comfort of the Spirit is what I need most of all in those moments, and it's not there.  But this time, I felt like this was Heavenly Father's way of telling me that although it's not time for this pain to be gone yet, He has not left me alone.  For whatever reason that is still unknown to me, it is not His perfect plan for me to be miraculously healed at this time, even with the faith of me and my family and others who love and care about me.  But for the first time in a very long time, I was able to have a small moment of inspiration that allowed me to feel God's love and mindfulness of me and to know that I am not destined to fail in this fight.

This has been a looooong ride, and I fear the dark days that will inevitably come in the future, but I know that if I can just remember that it isn't my choice to escape, then I will always be okay.  I will fight and conquer every single episode of pain and darkness, and ultimately, I will win. 

Testosterone

Shortly after getting pregnant with this sweet boy, I started to feel really well emotionally. It felt like something literally shifted in my body, and consequently, the things that were once so hard to accomplish every day (getting out of bed, doing dishes, taking care of Brooklyn, eating, etc.) were no longer difficult. I suddenly wanted to be productive, I had energy, I could do so much more than just survive every day, and it was beyond incredible. It had been such a long year before that, so finding relief was such a blessing.

Shortly after delivering Garrett, the depression returned, we moved, and my whole world seemingly crumbled beneath me. I kept plummeting down lower and lower and lower with no end or hope of relief in sight. Thankfully, I made a really good friend in this new place who cared about me enough to help me get in to the most amazing and caring doctor I've ever had, and I had a reason to find hope once again.

At first, he wanted to try medication again, but after my body failed to respond to several medications, he knew that we needed to go a different route. We did a hormone test, and as he predicted, my testosterone came back abnormal. He thought this would be the case, since I was fine while being pregnant with my baby boy, and being pregnant with a boy releases small amounts of testosterone into the mother's body.

His plan was to give me a very small supplement of testosterone, and we were all hopeful that things would improve soon. Unfortunately, we had a setback to this plan and weren't able to start testosterone right away. I was devastated and so disappointed at first, but I kept holding on through the help of my amazing family and friends.

Then, Kyle had the brilliant idea to see if there were any natural ways to boost testosterone in the meantime. One of them we found online was pomegranate juice. I was pretty skeptical, especially because the depression had been so severe that it seemed like something so simple couldn't make much of a difference. I started drinking a glass of pomegranate juice every day about two weeks ago, and I have seen a very noticeable improvement in how I've been feeling in the last week. I also started exercising more regularly at this same time, and the weather got much nicer, so I'm not positive exactly what is making me feel better, but either way, I'm so thankful.

We're still moving forward with trying to figure out medically why my body is struggling to produce enough testosterone, so hopefully we can find answers and more permanent solutions soon, but until then, I am so so so thankful that we are finally getting somewhere and thankful for this little miracle boy who might be the very key to figuring everything out.

Mania!

Oh mania... It's my favorite place to be, and it's been here for 5 days now. That is super long for me and is very welcomed after such a long and deep low this last time. It's such an interesting feeling, like I've finally figured out the secret to conquering depression, like I have the power to make sure I never get back to that dark place again, like surely this high is here to stay forever now. This happens every time, and it always makes the inevitable crash back into depression very difficult to handle. But I enjoy it while it lasts and hope that it stays as long as possible! 

Disappointing News

Last Friday, I got a text from my doctor with some bad news. We weren’t going to be able to move forward with the treatment we were planning to try, because the specialist he had consulted advised him not to. Immediately when I read this message, my eyes began to fill with tears. I hurried to my closet to hide away from Brooklyn, when all the strength left my body, and I fell to my knees in broken sobs. My heart hurt with such intensity that I could only gasp for air between the bursts of tears that seemed to overcome me. It felt like every last bit of hope I had in me washed away with each warm tear that streamed down my face. I didn’t think I would be able to find the strength to get up or stop crying ever again. I called my husband and messaged a few close friends to share my devastation. There was nothing they could say to make it better, but I felt love as they mourned with me in my moment of great hurt. I continued crying as I wished that my husband could be there to wrap me in his loving arms.

And then something so beautiful happened. My snuggly baby boy army crawled to my closet to find me. When he had finally made his way to me, he reached up for me, and I picked him up. He then laid his head on me and stayed there looking up at me and saying, “Aww” for the next 20 minutes! I didn’t immediately feel better, and I’m pretty sure I soaked his cute blonde hair with my tears that continued to fall, but I did feel the immediate goodness of God through this sweet boy as he wrapped my broken heart in love. It was such a tender moment, one that I will never forget, and one that will forever remind me that God knows me and is so mindful of me.

We do have a plan moving forward, so we will continue on this journey hoping and trusting in better days to come. It’s hard knowing that this struggle isn’t over yet, and I do have some anxiety about the days ahead, but I know that there will always be miracles to accompany the most difficult days, just as there have been SO MANY miracles in the past.

Feeling Hope

Things have suddenly taken a turn for the better for me emotionally, and I am so thankful. On April 27th, I reached the lowest I have ever reached before. I had no hope left in me. I felt broken beyond repair. I thought healing was beyond reach for me. I thought there was no reason to go on. And for the first time, I really could have been gone. It seemed like nothing could help me stay. Thankfully, I found the last of the strength I had in me to reach out for help, someone responded to my urgent plea, and I didn’t act on the feelings and thoughts that were so pressing at the time. After this traumatic, scary experience though, I decided that I needed a break from medicine for a while. Since my medications weren’t helping at all and were only making things worse, I decided with my doctor to stop taking them for the time being. I’m open to trying again in the future if we think that is necessary, but for now, I’m taking a much needed break. At the same time, my doctor discovered something that he thinks is the cause for all of this emotional turmoil. We’re still in the process of beginning a new, quite unconventional treatment option, so I won’t share the details until we see if it works 🤞🤞🤞 but just knowing that this might help me, that I might get better, that my heart has a chance to heal, has brought so much hope into my world. I still cry. I still struggle with getting overwhelmed by small tasks. I still have daily thoughts of dying. I know I still have a looooong way to go to heal from these years of struggle, but for the first time in a very long time, I have a tangible feeling of hope for a bright future ahead for my life. It’s finally my own feeling, not just me trusting in the hope that others have for me. It brings immediate tears to my eyes to think of all the people who have been there for me along this wild ride and who have saved me when the darkness seemed all-consuming and was literally impossible to fight on my own. My life is forever changed by the Christ-like ministering and love I have seen through my darkest days.

Mental Health Awareness Month

Supposedly, this month is Mental Health Awareness Month, but I feel completely unqualified to say anything about it. I guess it's because I feel like I don't know anything about mental HEALTH anymore, only mental ILLNESS with my brain being so sick right now. 😜 This last weekend, I experienced a level of darkness that has left me scarred, wounded, and changed forever. It hurts that there is something so powerful and so painful that it has changed me in such a drastic way. Thanks to my incredible husband, wonderful friends, supportive church leaders, and an amazing doctor, I'm holding onto a few things they have repeated to me during this difficult time that give me glimmers of hope. While I don't feel these things for myself yet (which makes me feel raw, vulnerable, and slightly hypocritical sharing them), I can trust that they are true, because I trust that the people who say they love me or care about me really do.

1. My life is never too broken to heal.
2. Asking for help is not weak. In fact, it's one of the strongest things I can do.
3. I am not defined by my lowest points.
4. I may never be the same again after what I've experienced. But isn't that the point of the struggles we face-- to change us, to open our hearts, to give us new compassionate perspectives, and to show us how to help others?
5. I don't have to escape if I can heal, and I CAN heal.
6. It's okay to not feel hope for myself at the moment but to trust in the hope that others see and feel for my future.

My Crazy Tracker Charts

Once upon a time, my cool, nerdy, amazingly supportive husband Kyle made me an excel sheet we lovingly call my "crazy tracker charts." Yesterday I had my first collaborative care appointment, which means that my doctor, a counselor, and a psychiatrist all work together on my care. I brought my charts, and they made it very obvious that I have rapid cycling bipolar 2. I've spent a lot of time in very deep depression this month, but there is hope and healing ahead. It's going to take time and work and figuring out more things medically first, but we will get there. Someday, I hope my charts will be small waves with lots of time spent at 0 (normal). But until then, I'll keep plugging in the data and enjoy seeing the craziness of my brain on my awesome charts.

The Face of Depression

Often times when people hear that I struggle with depression, they are surprised, because I seem like a happy person.  While my natural self is cheerful, the darkness I face makes it very difficult to feel the emotion of happiness, and putting a smile on my face is simply my way of coping with it most of the time.  The truth is, there isn’t really a “face” for depression.  It’s hard to see who is struggling with our normal eyes, as there isn’t a literal cloud of darkness that hovers above anyone’s head.  When I see these three pictures of myself, I see right through my smile, because I remember what was going on inside my mind.  I remember the internal battle that weighed so heavily on my heart, and I know that my smile was a “coping” smile in that moment.

In the first picture, my husband had just gotten home from school and found me laying in the middle of our living room floor crying with wadded up tissues all around me.  I had been in that same position for over an hour and couldn’t find the strength to get up or stop crying.  When he saw me, he immediately helped me up, brought me to the couch, and we talked.  When I was feeling a little bit better, he told me that he needed to take pictures for his humanities class, and he wanted to take pictures of me.  We went outside to take pictures, and our kind neighbor offered to take a family picture of us.  We hurried, posed, smiled, and took the picture.

The second picture was shortly after we moved to Post Falls.  I had been facing deep darkness that whole week, and just a few hours before, I had prayed and said that I had nothing left to offer and I had to give in.  I imagined that I would never be able to get up again, until our friends came to babysit so my husband and I could go on a date.  I remember climbing the stairs up to this spot with great difficulty and then my husband telling me that I should turn around and smile.  The darkness was suffocating around me.  It pressed on my heart in a way that made it physically strenuous to breath.  I wanted to cry.  It felt like my tears were moments from bursting out, yet I turned around and smiled anyway.

The third picture was this last weekend.  No one knew, but all day at church that day, I thought there was no way I could continue fighting this battle.  I felt all alone and defeated.  I wasn’t sure whether I should contemplate giving up or being admitted to the hospital, but either way, the struggle was intense and great that day.

I guess my hope with sharing these three pictures and the background story is to offer the reminder that you never know what battle someone is facing, even if they have a smile on their face.  The smile may just be a way of covering up a pain that is too difficult to share. 

Miracles

I know I've shared a lot recently, and I won't share so much in the future, but my hope is that sharing can bring light and hope to someone else who is fighting similar battles.

Yesterday was a day of hellish darkness. When I woke up, I immediately knew that I was in the fight for my life. But this time, I couldn't find it in myself to try to be patient and submissive. I was angry that this darkness persists and so very tired of fighting. As tears soaked my face and as my heart crumbled, this thought came into my mind, "Be prepared to see miracles today." Every time the darkness is this thick, every time I don't know how I can survive one more storm, every time I wonder how a heart can endure so much pain and keep beating, I see miracles. Not miracles of healing, but miracles of strength and love, and yesterday was no different.

First, it was a good friend who listened as I cried and who spoke comforting words of encouragement. Then, it was two people who texted one right after the other saying that I was on their mind that morning and asked how I was doing. One of them also told me about an article in the Ensign which I read right away and it touched my heart. Next, it was a friend who dropped anything she may have had going to come and sit with me. She let me explain my darkness, she told me about her struggles, and our hearts connected on a level that can only come through struggle. After that, it was a sweet card that came in the mail from a dear friend with a package that I ordered from her. She didn't have to do that, but it couldn't have been better timing. Finally, it was a friend who sent me a picture of two Dove chocolate wrappers with sweet quotes that she said made her think of me.

None of these acts took away my darkness, and it stubbornly persists today. But they wrapped my broken heart in love. They buoyed me up and strengthened me. They carried me through the darkness and helped me once again find the will to win.

I am thankful for the "immediate goodness of God" that I see and feel through the wonderful people all around me. I'm thankful that I don't have to face this struggle alone, as I'm positive I wouldn't still be here if that were the case. I'm thankful that I am able to experience miracles, even if they aren't the miracles I sometimes desire. I'm thankful for the love that binds together the broken pieces of my heart until they can heal someday. Someday I hope to be the one to let someone else see God's goodness through me as so many have done in my life.

Smile

A few weeks ago, I was driving to take a picture of the foundation on our new house. I had been feeling alright that day, but as soon as I was alone, I began to cry and couldn't hold back the tears no matter how hard I tried. At first, they were tears of confusion and frustration as I wondered what had just happened and why my mood had crashed so quickly. After just a few minutes though, my thoughts spiraled downward, and I desperately wanted to die. I thought of my husband and kids and knew that I needed to hold on for them, but the pain was so great as I wondered how I could ever survive crash after crash after crash in the future. It hurt in a way that I feel few people could ever understand unless they have been there, and pretty soon the warm, angry, sorrowful tears steadily streamed down my face.

I got home, parked my car in the back corner of the parking lot, and sobbed. I felt all alone and weak in this moment of great hurting, and I wondered how I would ever find the strength to pull myself together and go inside my house.

And then something miraculous happened. I was parked in an area that didn't have an outlet, so no one would come over there unless they were parking there as well or lost. There were several parking spots open next to me and no one was around, so I felt like I could get my tears out without anyone seeing. After a few minutes, an older man came and parked next to me. When he saw my face, I'm positive he could see that I had been crying. Without saying a word, he smiled the most genuine and heartfelt smile I've ever seen. The look in his eyes was as if he were comforting me and saying, "It's okay. You're going to be okay." In that moment, I felt an overwhelming feeling of God's love for me. I felt that I was not alone, that God was so mindful of me, that He cared about me and hurt to see me hurt, and that I really would be okay. The man backed out of the parking spot almost as quickly as he had parked and drove away.

Immediately, my tears stopped flowing, I dried my face, and I returned to the safety of my home and family. All because a kind man took the time to smile at me.

Faith in God

I try to be vulnerable and share my experiences with depression for two reasons-- 1) to help those who experience similar things to know that they are not alone and 2) to help others who don't experience these things to have more understanding and love for those who do.

Since beginning to write, I have had a lot of comments and opinions shared, some that brighten my day and lighten my load and others that aren't very helpful or kind.  I have reached the point where I am able to disregard these and they have very little affect on me, but I've been thinking about some of them recently. One of the most frequent opinions that has been shared with me is that if I just had enough faith, then this problem would be healed.

At first, this was devastating to think that I was being judged as not having enough faith because I experienced an ongoing struggle with depression. Over time, the comments about my apparent "lack of faith" have stopped bothering me, but in listening to the recent General Conference talk by Elder Brook Hales, I have appreciated this part of his talk: "Sometimes our prayers are answered quickly with the outcome we hope for. Sometimes our prayers are not answered in the way we hope for, yet with time we learn that God had greater blessings prepared for us than we initially anticipated. And sometimes our righteous petitions to God will not be granted in this life. As Elder Neal A. Maxwell said, 'Faith also includes trust in God’s timing.'"

I believe that I have the faith to be healed. I really do. But that has not been God's will for my life. It hasn't even been His will for me to find a medication that can relieve the burden yet. That does not mean that I don't have faith. It simply means that God has greater plans in store for my life than what I can understand right now. I will never stop praying for my miracle or praying for relief, but even if that prayer is never answered in this life, I have faith that someday my mind and heart WILL be made whole, never to be broken in this way again.

I'm not trying to direct this at anyone or make anyone feel bad, and I truly believe that people mean well. I simply want to point out that some things are less helpful or even harmful to say.

Rock Bottom

I am moved to tears today, but for the first time in a very long time, they are happy tears. After 15 days of a darkness so thick that it once again redefined my definition of what it means to experience darkness, I feel the tangible feeling of hope again. My doctor has a new treatment plan that is unconventional but seems to have a very probable chance of helping (I'll tell more about that later). I have family and friends and church leaders who love and support me through my darkest days. And most of all, I have a firm testimony of the Savior and of His ability to comfort, love, sustain, strengthen, and bless. Though this struggle has beaten me down to what feels like a rock bottom, I find comfort in knowing that the only direction to go from rock bottom is up.

Inspired Quote

Why not take advantage of not being able to sleep to post an uplifting quote? 😜 There were two talks in general conference this last weekend that particularly touched my heart. One was the beautiful talk by Sister Eubank about Christ being the light that shines in darkness. I've already listened to that talk twice more this week and it continues to reach the parts of my heart that need comfort and light. Out of all the inspired words of her talk, this part brought instant tears to my eyes as I felt like she was talking directly to me. I feel the truth of these uplifting words, and they continue to bring light to my darkness.

What if the Greatest Good...

I've thought about sharing this post for a few weeks now, but I've hesitated because I don't want it to draw attention to myself. I finally decided to in case it can help someone else, but just know that this simply meant to uplift anyone who feels that their current circumstances limit their ability to bless the lives of others.

I've honestly prayed many times in the last several years for this struggle with depression to be taken away. Of course, I want relief for my broken heart and mind, but sometimes there is this more pressing concern that I could do so much more good in this world if this wasn't an ongoing struggle in my life. I would be so much more available to serve and give of my time and energy to bless others if this struggle was miraculously healed.

Recently when I've prayed and tried to explain to Heavenly Father my desires to serve that feel impossible to fulfill at this time, this thought has come into my mind, "You want to be healed to do good, but what if the greatest good you can do comes through having this struggle?"

This took me back at first, as I confusedly wondered how a life that feels broken into so many tiny pieces can still be used to do good. But slowly, my eyes have been opened, as I have recognized the beautiful opportunities my broken heart has been given to connect with other broken hearts in ways that I know it couldn't have otherwise. I have been humbled to witness how God can take my small offering and multiply it to make it so much more. I have been able to see ways that I can serve within my own capacities that still do good in the world, even if they're different from what I desire to do.

I still want to be healed, and I always will. I will never stop trying to find relief and I'll never stop hoping in better days ahead, but I find joy in moments when I can see things from a different perspective and know that whatever happens in my life is truly best for me and for those around me.

Medication Update

People frequently ask me for medication updates, and this is the best way to update everyone at once, so here's for anyone who's interested in knowing.

Two weeks ago, I started a new mood stabilizer after I was basically not functional on the last one. After the first week, I had a few good days in a row, and I was feeling hopeful. Things still weren't near normal yet, but I figured with some dose increases and periodic tweaking, we'd get it all figured out and these terribly difficult years could be placed behind me forever. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hopeful, but I desperately want this heartache to leave, so I couldn't help but find hope in normal days ahead.

Last Sunday, we doubled the dose. I had some anxiety about this, because of some of the terrible experiences I've had with medication things in the past, and I worried this one would follow those same tracks. I tried to push the fears away, as I continued to hope in better days to come.

Tuesday evening, I was at the church for youth activities. When the activity was done (thankfully it was done and not during!!) I started to react to the dose increase. I can't really describe it as there are not adequate words for a depth of pain such as this, but my worst fears were coming true, as I began reacting very similarly to the worst medication reaction I've ever had. I could barely make it home from the church as my legs were shaking so terribly and my mind was so burdened with anxiety that I didn't know if I could even remember how to get home. I called my husband and he talked to me on the drive home (all 1 mile of it) and reminded me to breath. I was overcome with panic and I so desperately wished that I could escape the pain that squeezed my heart and paralyzed my mind.

Through a priesthood blessing, lots of help from my husband, lots of help from wonderful friends, and more prayers than I ever thought it possible to pray in a 24 hour period, the medication darkness lifted and my heart found relief in getting back to how I normally feel.

To say that I am discouraged is an understatement. My heart is broken. I need some time before we do anything else medication-wise. I've gone back down to the dose I was at before all of this happened, and I'll probably stay there for a long time until I am ready to pick myself up and fight some more. I don't know why things happen the way they do. I don't know why this struggle persists and won't respond to medications the way I wish it would. I don't know why my heart has felt so much pain and why there is no end in sight yet. But what I do know is that I won't give up, I'm incredibly blessed to have the supportive people I have around me, there is always a reason to have hope, this struggle has softened my heart in beautiful ways, and better days really are coming, just maybe farther out than what I thought a week ago.

But I Was Wrong

I feel so passionate about breaking the silence of suicide. I know it's uncomfortable to talk about. I know it's not something people want to discuss. But I have seen too many miracles, too many perfectly-timed blessings that have saved my own life, that I can't help but share some of my experiences with the hope that sharing can be a lifeline of hope to someone else.

Several months ago, I saw this video about a man who attempted suicide by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. By some very real miracle, he lived, and now he is a motivational speaker who shares his story with thousands of people around the world. At the beginning of this video, he said something that has stuck with me ever since. He said, "I thought I had to die. But I was wrong."

Fast forward to the past two weekends. Sometimes it feels like something in my brain snaps, and suddenly it seems like the only option for me is to die. It's scary and so real, and it has happened the last two weekends. I've managed to overcome these moments by reaching out for help and by thinking of my beautiful family and how much they need me, and I'm okay now. I really am okay.

Just the day after both of these times, we were doing something together as a family, and I felt joy. Both times, I remembered this video I had seen and what the man said. I, too, thought I had to die. But I was wrong. I thought there was no hope. But I was wrong. I thought there was no reason to keep going. But I was wrong. The light DOES come again. I AM loved and needed and stronger than the darkness of depression. Please, if you are feeling any of these things, reach out for help. You are loved and needed and so strong. Your light will come again!!!

How Does Depression Fit into the Gospel of Jesus Christ?

I've asked this question so many times.  I've never doubted that there is a place for depression in the church, because I know there's a place for everyone and every struggle in Christ's church, but sometimes I wonder where I fit or how living the gospel is possible with severe depression.  As I've pondered this question for several weeks, I've gained some new insights that I want to share as a way of offering hope and peace to someone else who may wonder where they fit.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, there is a lot that is asked of me, and I desperately want to do it, because I have seen in the past how these things have blessed my life.  But in moments of severe depression, it is very difficult to keep up with anything, let alone the many, many things that are expected of me in the church.  I've continually tried to keep up or do all the right things, and lately, I've had to modify or let some things go, because I simply cannot do it all.  So here is what I've found that can work for me:

1. Scripture study-- For the last several years, scripture study has been one of the most difficult things I've had to do.  This frustrates me so much, because I used to really enjoy studying and learning.  I felt like it was a very uplifting experience every day, and I miss that.  But I can still have a good, non-destructive experience studying if I change how I do it.  Honestly, it doesn't make sense, but I can't open the scriptures.  I know it sounds ridiculous, but for some reason, that is super overwhelming to me.  It's like I can't stay in the present, because doing it today makes me remember that I have to do it tomorrow and the next day and the next day, and I simply cannot do it today without feeling very overwhelmed about all the days to follow that I have to do it again and again and again.  I can't read from the pages without spending the rest of the day either crying or feeling very negative things about myself.  But what I can do is listen to conference talks.  So you know what I do?  I listen to a conference talk every day.  Is it wrong?  No, not at all, because it's what I can handle to still obey and do what I need to do.  I think I can handle this because it has a very clear beginning and end, so I don't have to worry about the next chapter after the one I'm already studying.  Some days I even find talks that are specifically applicable to depression, because I finally realized that the point of studying the scriptures is to help me come closer to the Savior and to bring the Spirit into my life.  If that means studying the same talk about depression every single day for the rest of my life, then that's okay if that's what I need to feel closer to Heavenly Father and to endure the challenges that I have been given in this life.
2. Temple attendance-- This is another thing that has become nearly impossible when I am severely depressed.  Not only is it overwhelming to find a babysitter and to organize how we can actually go, but then the time spent in the temple is very difficult for me, and I usually struggle greatly for days after.  Once again, it doesn't make sense, but it is very real and debilitating.  One thing I have accepted is that it's okay to not always be able to go as long as I am trying to go as often as I can with the circumstances and stage of life I am in.  Another thing I've accepted is that I cannot do an endowment session in my current state.  It's not worth it to go when the days after are honestly hellish.  But I've found that I can do sealings or initiatories without these terrible after effects, so that's what I do now.  I simply try my best and allow myself to feel that Heavenly Father understands me perfectly and recognizes how hard I am trying, even though things look much different now than they used to.
3. Church attendance-- I love going to church, but it is also a struggle almost every week.  I struggle listening to the talks, because I get very overwhelmed thinking about all the things I should be doing and am not doing perfectly.  It's like my brain can't choose just one thing to work on, and pretty soon it is flooded with thoughts of how I'm not good enough or not worthy.  I know it would seem easy to say that I just have to stop thinking like that, but my brain is sick, so that's not always possible.  I can see a very real difference in my thinking when I feel better, so I know it is the brain sickness that causes this difficulty.  Often times, my emotions are very near the surface on Sundays.  This frequently causes me to panic, because I can't hold in the emotion anymore, but I desperately want to hide it from everyone.  I've learned first and foremost that it is okay to cry!  It's okay to not hold it altogether.  It's okay to "lose it" in front of everyone.  It's okay to let others comfort me and hold me close in those times when my heart is breaking.  It's okay to let others see my hurt and to let them know that I am a very real person with a very real struggle.  All of this is okay, and it has blessed my life tremendously to let go of the desire to hide from everyone when my heart is in pain.
4. Service-- As you can imagine, struggling to even get out of the house has made serving others a nearly impossible task.  I used to do so much-- babysit, take meals, visit people, give rides, etc.  It was the thing that brought me so much joy.  But just because most of my days are filled with struggle now does not mean that I can't serve.  I just have to serve in different ways than I used to.  One thing I have found that I can do is text people.  I can send a short message letting someone know that I am thinking about them or love them.  I can ask how people are doing or try to remember special things going on in their lives to check back on.  I can compliment people and offer words of encouragement and love.  The best part is, I don't have to leave the comfort of my own home to do this.  I can serve from my bed or from the couch on the days when I spend most of my time in those two places.  I also try to take advantage of the days when I am feeling better to do the other things that I cannot do on my depression days.  It boosts my spirits when people allow me to serve them, because it makes me feel more a part of my ward family.
5. Callings-- I'm sure I sound like a whiny broken record by now, but callings have presented a real struggle in my life the last few years.  A few things I have learned is that I can talk with my bishop to let him know about my circumstances so that I am not asked to do more than I am capable of.  I have also learned that it's okay to simplify my calling to the very basics.  It's okay to have to say "no" when there are things I simply cannot do and it's okay to need to ask for help to be able to do my calling without having it affect my mental health too greatly.

I'm thankful for where I am at now in the things I have learned and the ways I have found that I can still be a part of Christ's church while struggling, even struggling greatly at times.  I'm not perfect (obviously!) but I try, and I know that Heavenly Father sees that and accepts my broken offerings.  I know that the things I do in the church have grown in meaning and purpose through the difficulty in doing them, and I'm thankful for those who have stood by me to comfort and help me realize my place in God's plan.