These are going to be in no particular order, by the way.
When I was a teenager, I often struggled with depression. No surprise; I was a teenager, and that kind of thing is perfectly normal. However, my depression generally coincided with a period of intellectual rebellion from the Church. I wasn’t living a licentious life of sin or anything (nothing unusually licentious for a teenager at least), but I was critical of the Church and generally did not belive that it was “true.”
When, for a number of reasons, I decided to get my life back on track and go on a mission, the depression eased. I went into a period of my life, almost a decade long, when I was living the gospel and not suffering from severe depression. Yes, I’d have my moments, but they’d never last. Generally, I was happy, and I attributed it to living the gospel (well, and to having a sweet, fantastic wife, but I met her through the Church and we were married in the temple so, same thing, right?).
That was fine. I had no reason to seriously question the gospel or the Church for years, because I was generally contented with my life at the same time that I was living according to the Church’s teachings, and even trying to have a good attitude about it.
Until last year.
Don’t get me wrong; I loved living in New York City. There are few places like it on earth, and my wife and I (and our baby, who was born there) made some of our most precious memories, and a lot of very good friends, while we were there.
However, for a host of reasons and probably some I still don;t understand, I plunged into the deepest, darkest, most relentless, soul-crushing pit of depression that I have ever been in. This was not the kind of fog of darkness that comes, settles, and then goes away after awhile. This despair persisted for most of a year.
During this year, we were active in the Church. I was magnifying my calling for real for the first time- and it was rewarding (I was the ward mission leader for the Harlem ward). We made ourselves a part of the community of the ward. I kept the commandments asbest as I could- even reading the Book of Mormon all the way through like the prophet counseled. It was the first time I had read the Book of Mormon all the way through, or really with any kind of serious effort, since my mission.
And all the while I was facing daily thoughts of suicide.
I was in the most horrible emotional pain, sometimes so intense that it felt like physical pain, of my entire life. And the gospel wasn’t helping. Not even a little bit.
I’ll grant you that it is possible that the gospel helped more than I realize, that without the gospel I would have been far, far worse. But I can’t know that, and I do know that at no point did I feel like the gospel or the Book of Mormon or even prayer was any kind of solace or port in the storm. Our bishop was helpful, but that’s because he is one of the best people I have ever known, not because he was the Lord’s anointed. Mostly what got me through what was arguable the most difficult time of my life was antidepressants, psychotherapy, and my wonderful, wonderful wife (to whom I owe so much).
A major foundation to my testimony was the fact that while living the gospel, my life was so much better. It was basic Alma 32 seed-plantin’. But then the darkness of last year came along, despite the fact that I was living the gospel enthusiastically and to the best of my ability. I know intellectually that bad things still happen to people who live the gospel (blah blah Job, which is in my opinion the least helpful scripture example ever when you’re actually going through hard times), but that isn’t the point. A fair chunk of my testiony was that the gospel made my life appreciably better. And all of a sudden it didn’t, not even a little bit.
This didn’t actually play into my thoguht processes until long after my doubts about the Church had fully materialized, but it’s the kind of thing where I look back retrospectively and realize how significant it was.
Thanks for sharing that. Glad you made it through.
I’m glad we’re past that now. What a rough year.
And I sure love you, Kullervo.
Dang…
As someone who enjoyed the your hospitality on more than several occasions back in the bad old New York days, I’m sorry to hear the time was such a struggle. I knew the school woes and the job woes got to you — but to that extent…
Dang… that’s all I can say. Glad you’re over that patch.
It was a really hard time. Making friends with you and the other guys from our weekly group was actually a big deal.
Kullervo,
I am sorry you had to go through that. As one who experienced something similar, I totally understand. I came closer than I ever wanted to taking my own life in December 2003 (I had to wait until at least I saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the King—It was seriously one of the very very few things that kept me going). Much of my depression increased while going to church. In my case I had an abusive bishop at BYU in 1999-2001 that really plunged me even further in my depression. As I was dealing with some pretty hefty issues, each time I went to see him, I felt worse than before. At one point it came time to renew my ecclesiastical endorsement for my last semester at BYU. My last semester. One freaking semester. And he said he wouldn’t do it. I had to grovel and beg for him to give it to me. I cried on several occasions with the counselor I was seeing at BYU services during that time. I still have very raw feelings about that idiot.
I don’t know why I’ve come out of that very long depression (let’s see, from about 1998 to mid-2004). In any case, I understand generally some of your pain. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
Thanks for sharing that.
I can totally understand the suicide thoughts. I was first plagued with them at 13 years old when my best friend stole many valuable items from me.
I actually was going to follow through one night when I was 16 years but my father sensed something wasn’t quite right and prevented me from driving the car that weekend ,which is how I was going to kill myself.
Later at 22 after marrying I was still in the same deep despair and atttempted to kill myself through asphixiation through smothering which I was very close to succeeding at but the thoughts of my mother and grandmother greiving stopped me at the point my heart rate was astronomical from lack of oxygen.
Anway, I never attempted suicide again, but for the last 18 years I have never been able to stop the feelings of just wanting rather to be dead. Or feeling that in general it would be better off for my child and wife if I actually were dead.
Undoubtedly classical clinical depression…..but my point in sharing all this is to point out that even while totally active in church these past 25 years my feelings of wanting to just be dead are always ever present with me.
As Bill Clinton once said “I feel your pain” but really I sincerely do.
dazedandtornupinside,
If you haven’t done so already, please seek competent professional help with your depression. I know there is something of a cultural bias against seeking psychological help in the LDS church. Perhaps it’s a problem in other fundamentalist Christian sects as well. Anyway, ever-present suicidal feelings should not be ignored.
[…] Part One: In my darkest hour, I was alone. Part Two: Staying busy means not thinking. Part Three: Lingering doubts. […]