And it rips through the silence, all that is left is all that I hide

For some strange reason I feel lead to write some deep, intellectual, honest blog. I don't feel I can, because being honest on this subject scares the heck out of me. Spencer Johnson (a motivational author/business speaker) once said, "integrity is telling myself the truth, and honesty is telling other people the truth." Except, for some reason I don't feel like I need to tell anyone my experiences with depression. But my depression happened to me for a reason, I to this day don't understand why it happened to me. I don't know why I am even typing this...

I have a good friend who made an attempt to end his life a year ago. When I found out I was out of town, and I could hardly speak to the person on the phone who called me to tell me the news. I was in shock, and it killed my spirit. Even looking back on this, all I remember is bawling until the whites in my eyes were red. I don't know why, but I felt like it was my fault. I felt that if I were in town, he would have called me, and he wouldn't have tried to kill himself. By the grace of God, my friend is alive and went into treatment.

I used to think that when someone was depressed or contemplating suicide, they were doing it for attention. Perhaps some are, but I am embarrassed that I would even think that. Not that long ago, when I was depressed, I was definitely not myself. In fact, I think I was a different person, in a totally different state of mind. I would only vent to a few close friends, and they may not have understood the way I felt (to be honest, I didn't either). Looking back on a certain situation I told my friend through a message exactly how I felt, whatever thoughts came to my mind. Even if it didn't make sense, I kept typing.

I remember I thought about my well-being a lot. I was scared to be so depressed, because I didn't know what I was capable of doing to myself in that state of mind. I started medication to go through this battle. I remember the doctor asking me questions such as "have you ever tried to kill yourself?", "have you had thoughts of suicide?". When I said my responses I felt ashamed. I was so hard on myself. Sometimes I don't even think it was me...something was hard on me. I thought of God, and I wondered why this was happening. I wasn't necessarily angry at Him, but I felt like he was out to get me, or testing me. So I began to read the book of Job.

I felt like I was definitely alone. Even at church, I felt like some people thought I wasn't a child of God if I was this way. And if you are a Christian you must be happy. I didn't want to tell anyone at church that I was on medication, because I didn't want them to judge me, or my relationship with God. Other friends tip toed around the words "depression" or "sad" when they were around me. And I felt like I was stopping people.

While flipping through Job I did some more research on other people in the Bible who struggled with depression. I read how Moses was in the wilderness leading the people. The people were upset because they didn't have any meat to eat. Moses asked God why he was being so hard on him, and told him how the people were a burden on him. He even told God to kill him if he was going to treat him this way. I could definitely relate. I wondered why God would bring me down, and I felt like I was carrying burden after burden. I definitely just wanted to die. Luckily, I couldn't bring myself to do it to myself. I (like Moses) asked God to just kill me if I had to keep going through such pain. After my prayer I must have fell asleep, and I guess God didn't want me dead because I woke up breathing the next morning. Reading experiences of Job, Moses, Paul, and Jeremiah, I felt that it was God's way of sending me strength to keep going.

One day I was talking to my teacher after school and he said "how are you? Lately you seem, depressed. Are you okay?", I paused for a bit- but not for too long because I didn't want him to know that anything was up. After quickly checking myself, I realized I hadn't been depressed for a week... Ever since that conversation I have not felt depressed, sad sometimes, but not depression (yes they are two different things). I still take medication, and I am sometimes ashamed of it, but I then try to make myself realize I have no reason to be. I'm not saying that I will never go through something like that again, and if it comes, I am ready to fight what Satan uses for evil into what God uses for glory. Ever since that, I have not been myself, I know what I am capable of doing, I know that God wouldn't put me through something I can't handle. Maybe that seems like a wimpy story to you, but trust me, it was hard as hell. And I am happy I didn't do anything stupid, that I relied on God, and he gave me strength. In the first paragraph of my blog I stated that I didn't know why I was typing this but now I know. I thought I was capable of ending my life, but God showed me that I was capable of starting to live it.