Philippians 4:6, John 14:27, Psalm 34:4, 1 Peter 5:7… These are just four out of many verses I keep nearby when I start feeling anxiety or depression take hold of my spirit. I thought that was how having anxiety or depression worked if you were a Christian, let alone a pastor. I thought it was prayer, & Bible verses, that is how God would take it away. Until one night it didn’t go away. What happens when all the prayers in the world, & all the hope in the Word don’t take away anxiety and feelings of suicide?
I wondered if I was not a good pastor, if I was, then I couldn’t imagine why my prayers weren’t taking my heart wrenching pain and fear away. I didn’t get help because I feared losing my pastoral license, and I didn’t share my struggles with anyone close to me because I didn’t want them to think I wasn’t a good Christian or pastor. I struggled silently, and I struggled alone. I will never forget the night I decided I couldn’t survive another day. I prayed for God to take my life… maybe a car accident, or something natural, but at 11pm I was still alive.
I wish I didn’t have to type this, and I wish I could keep this story to myself in a secret place where nobody ever had to know. But God has challenged me to share it with the world in hopes it reaches someone who was Googling the same things I was on that cold night in September. At 11pm that evening I sat with the pain of losing my foster daughter we thought we would be adopting, my husband who left our marriage, and losing my job. I was Googling the quantity of pills I would have to take of an OTC medication I had in my cabinet in order to end my life. Once I found my answer, I opened the bottle, counted the pills, and got a glass of water. I sat in my bed, I begged God to take the pain away, I convinced myself there was no other way I could survive the pain I was suffering.
I remember the only lights on in my room were string lights that surrounded my bed, and I remember thinking I should probably write a note. It wouldn’t be fair to my mom, my little brothers or sister, and it wouldn’t be fair to my family if I didn’t give them a note explaining my pain and to say goodbye. As I pulled up the notes app on my iPhone I began to type. “Mom, I am so sorry…” I typed in between sobs so deep I could barely see my phone. I didn’t get very far before I decided to just call one of my closest friends to tell her what I thought would be a goodbye.
She is not normally up at the midnight hour in which I called her, but that night she was. Immediately upon answering I sobbed to her that I just couldn’t do it anymore. She shared her heart for me, her struggle with depression, and assured me in my horrible pain I was not alone. After about thirty minutes on the phone we hung up and as I sat in my bed going back to writing my suicide note I realized I just couldn’t do it. The pain didn’t go away, God didn’t remove my suicidal thoughts or my anxiety, and my life situation didn’t change (yet). I just realized as I wrote my suicide letter to my mom that I had too many letters I needed to write. As I reflected on that it became clear to me, I needed to get help, and not take my own life.
It is with great sadness that I have to share not every story that begins like mine has an ending where the writer survived. Most of the letters that start like mine end with spouses, parents, or friends finishing the letter with heartbreak, and devastation. I share this terribly heartbreaking part of my journey to tell you that God is a miracle healer, but God also uses doctors and the medical field to help Him in miracles too. I was not free from anxiety and depression after I chose not to end my life, but I did regularly see a counselor and a doctor to help me stay alive for many months after that. I used medication, prayer, and friends to survive the darkest time in my life and I am not ashamed. This blog is not to say that the right Bible verse or story, prayer, and some time with God can’t heal someone, because I know they can, but that is not the ending and it wasn’t the answer to my story.
By the grace of God, I reached out to a friend, a doctor, and because of that I am alive today to share my story with you. I don’t know if you are struggling in silence and loneliness, but I need you to know if you are reading this that you are not alone. It may feel like you cannot survive another day. It may feel like because of your struggle you aren’t a good pastor, mom, Christian, friend, or whatever other role you fill, but that just is not the truth. If those of us, especially those of us that are pastors or leaders, who struggle with anxiety and/or depression would be open and so bold to share our stories of survival than just maybe we could prevent even one person from taking their own life. Maybe we can use our stories of survival to share that feeling so hopeless, so dark, so lonely that you can’t find a way out is not a feeling only you have. You don’t have to feel like you can fight this right now, but you do have to surrender to let someone help you survive it.
National Suicide Prevention Hotline
Call 1-800-273-8255
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
Would you prayerfully consider sharing your #survivalstory if you have one? I would love to see this hashtag and a million stories like mine flood social media. What could it do for others if we open ourselves up for God to use our stories?
Sincerely,
A pastor with a story of survival.
Chelsea MacAdam