There are certain conversations I've been a part of over the last 53 plus years of my life that I will always remember. Conversations with my children ... conversations with my parents ... conversations with my siblings ... conversations with my nieces and nephews ... conversations with friends ... conversations with my doctors ... even conversations with strangers like Russell. Some of those conversations were happy, lighthearted and fun, while others were sad, difficult and tear-filled. Some were about subjects so wonderfully joyful that they bring a smile to my face even now as I recall them, and some involved discussing things so devastatingly painful that I physically hurt and my eyes fill with tears when I remember them. But I've come to realize something about all of those conversations, both the easy and the hard ... what all of those conversations mean is that the people involved have done life together.
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day, and this year's theme is "Stigma: A Major Barrier for Suicide Prevention." When I first read those words, I thought, "Stigma? I don't get it." But then I read ... and I read some more ... and then I got it. I got it big time, because I have felt it, believed it, lived it, and still wrestle with it today. The meaning of the theme and the stigma it's referring to isn't suicide itself ... it's the stigma that accompanies depression. It's the stigma that comes with seeking treatment. It's the stigma that comes with being labeled as having a mental illness. It's the stigma that comes with taking antidepressant medication. It's the stigma that comes ... from being different ... from not being "normal."
I read a Facebook post this afternoon that gave me chills because it was as if the person was inside of my brain writing the words. She spoke of having multiple plans to end her life ... of trying to reach out to others and no one being able to understand her pain ... of the guilt and shame of knowing that she should be grateful for her great life and had no reason to be sad ... of the overwhelming fear and isolation that came seemingly from nowhere and almost destroyed her. But it was when she spoke about there being no magic way to escape the pain and agony that is depression ... it was one sentence that charged off the screen and screamed its way into my entire being. "It's a process and it's hard work." Truer words have never been written, friends.
As He often does when He wants me to fully take in the message He is trying to get my stubborn and often weary mind to comprehend, God made sure that I had plenty of time on my drive home this evening to think about those powerful words. "It's a process and it's hard work. It's a process and it's hard work. It's a process and it's hard work. It's a process and it's hard work." I must have said those words out loud in my car 500 times as I sat for over an hour and a half in traffic that was at a standstill due to a multi-car accident. I thought about all the times I've heard those words ... "It's a process and it's hard work" ... from so many people over the last year and a half. People who lift me up when I stumble ... people who cheer me on when I make progress ... people who challenge me to stay strong through the process ... people who love me ... people who walk by my side ... people who stay ... people who want me to live.
Not long after our video posted, I received a message from a gal I worked with more than 12 years ago. A gal who has endured more than her share of hard times in life. A gal whom I had the blessing of baptizing many years ago. A gal who has been fighting a rare form of cancer for the last couple of years ... fighting for her life. You can bet my conversation with her that evening is one I will forever remember, and it seems only fitting to close with some of her words this evening. But before I close ... here's the link to the International Association for Suicide Prevention. Check it out ... there's a ton of helpful information on the site. And if you know people who are struggling with depression, step up and step in ... better to risk their anger than to attend their funerals.
"Oh, my dearest Terrie, don't you ever, ever go to that place again. You are too loved, too cherished by so many whose hearts would be forever broken. If you ever feel the darkness is threatening to overtake you again I want you to think about this. At the time you were wanting to die, I was fighting to live. Don't you ever, sweet friend. Don't you ever."
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