Jennifer Lambert

I spent Christmas 1997 in a series of hospital environments.

I had attempted to commit suicide.

Essentially, I was locked up for my own safety for over a week.

I had reached a breaking point.

Circumstances beyond my control, that were not my fault, wreaked havoc on my sensitive heart, mind, and soul. I have always felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I want to help everyone, fix everything.

I was twenty years old.

The world was not my responsibility.

My parents were not my responsibility.

Friends were not my responsibility.

I should’ve been carefree and fancy free and my biggest worry should have been only my next semester classes at college. And they weren’t strenuous. I was in my last year.

My parents weren’t divorced. They fought. They were stressed. But they were together.

There were no drugs or abuse stories. Nothing exciting or tawdry there. No soap opera.

Normal boring middle class white kid with a brilliant future ahead of her.

Sure, there was that whole lack of trust, angst, misunderstood thing. First world problems. I should have occupied my time with meaningful activities. I wonder if that would have helped or just delayed the inevitable.

So, why? you’re probably asking. I’m hoping everyone who reads this will wonder and cannot relate. I hope and pray you never reach a breaking point like I did.

Depression and anxiety are very real. And in the midst of it, thinking clearly is seldom an option. Depression sucks the life and hope from your soul. Anxiety is all-encompassing and there is no rationale for those fears and worries. And I was not a Christian then.

I was lost.

In so many ways.

I felt abandoned. I felt stifled.

Helpless. Hopeless. Pointless. Worthless. Less than.

I was right where the devil wanted me.

I don’t feel I need to go into too many details. A bottle of pills. An ambulance. Lots of scary lights and loud voices.

Fear. So much fear. And I gave in to it.

It was a close call. It was a cry for help. I didn’t really receive the kind of help I thought I wanted at the time. My body was saved. The doctors said it was a miracle I didn’t damage any organs. I was perfectly fine after the drugs were removed from my system.

But it would be many years yet before my mind and soul would be fine.

I had to walk down that road. I had to be completely broken to accept true healing.

Essentially, I know God saved me. For a purpose. I didn’t realize anything then.

I really just wanted the pain to stop. It just hurt to be alive. It hurt to see others hurting themselves and each other. It hurt me to witness that. Since I couldn’t stop it, I wanted out. Like gasping for air, or clawing out of a hole, I just wanted freedom.

That kind of freedom isn’t escape. It’s bondage. When we believe those dark lies and spiral down into the pit of despair, it’s not escape. It’s fear. It’s ragged hopelessness that it will ever improve. And being oh, so alone in it.

Only Jesus is Freedom. But I couldn’t accept that yet.

So I experienced a couple weeks of in-house therapy and meds. I lost almost ten pounds and I was only about 125 then! The other patients frightened me too. They seemed really quite ill in a different way than I felt I was. I felt so out of place.

The therapists, of course, were not Christian. They were very New Age and humanistic. I got so many mixed messages about following my dreams no matter the cost to others. Please myself and let others go. Grow up and take responsibility for my actions. I was right and everything else was wrong. I was too young and inexperienced and just a lost little girl who needed her parents to guide her because I was too fragile to function on my own. I think therapists just tell you what you want to hear. I didn’t know what to believe.

I was eventually released. Too soon. Too little gained.

Back to my parents’ house. Where I felt like was a little child again. They tiptoed around me, walking on eggshells, quiet and fearful. Where many rules were enforced. No social activity for me. I felt like I was on restriction for a misbehavior. It was surreal.

I was medicated on Prozac, that go-to drug at that time, before other somewhat safer alternatives were known and appreciated.

I did not function well on Prozac. The side effects were horrible. I felt so out of control with overwhelming emotions all the time. One of the weirdest things is that I would sleep exactly eight hours to the minute each night. Physically, I felt great.

I was still lost.

I had nothing to do while I waited for school to start again. No job. No friends. I was an embarrassment.

Shortly after returning home, my mom took me to the mall. Retail therapy, I suppose. At Baskin Robbins, I waited patiently for the clerk to finish cleaning up something so I could order a cone. Another lady apparently needed an ice cream fix so badly that she rudely shouldered me out the way to order. I glared at her in frustration. I had been obviously standing there a while and she just walked up! Inside, I really wanted to hurt her. I’ve always been rather passive. It’s just easier to let it go than confront people over situations like that that don’t really matter. My mind wandered to how I wanted to confront her and I stood there, daydreaming I slapped her. My palm itched almost uncontrollably. I was shaking when I sat down at a table with my ice cream. I could hardly enjoy the treat. I was scared by my reaction. I was frightened by the level of my anger. Over something so meaningless. That I would ordinarily shrug off.

After a month or so, my life really fell apart, but that’s another story for another day.

I think the suicide of Rick Warren’s son is a wake-up call to Christians. That poor boy hurt so badly that he desired to leave this world. It was too much for him.

It’s not for us to understand or judge. But I think we should help each other more. We should try harder to support one another through trials. I think a lot of depression and anxiety is spiritual warfare. How easy to confuse Christians with a fog of mental darkness. We’re blinded so easily.

What can we do?

Pray. Prayer is powerful to ward off evil forces. Pray for light and protection from evil. Pray for the body’s chemistries to be healed and aligned. Pray that our children will not share in this legacy.

Read the Word. Read the Bible out loud. Do a concordance search. Many of the prophets suffered from depression. Get a Bible study

Fellowship. I rarely feel like it. It takes a lot of effort for me to be around people and be social. But when I hole up away from people, that’s when the darkness likes to creep in.

Take care of yourself, physically. When I don’t feel well, then my emotions run down too. Eat right. Exercise. Get out in the sunshine whenever possible. Drink water. Dance. Play with your kids. Take vitamins and cod liver oil. Use essential oils to help boost your mood.

Occupy your mind. If your mind has too much free time and it wanders to negative thoughts, occupy it. Write. Start a blog. Read a book. Take up a hobby like art. Do a puzzle. Play a game. Learn something along with your spouse or child. Volunteer with children or the elderly. Do good.

Counsel. I know there are Godly Bible-believing Christian counselors out there. You can also turn to trusted friends or family members. It might be hard to open up and be honest. {Do you think writing this post was easy?} Let the Holy Spirit guide you.

Medication. I know some people’s bodies just need help leveling out. Like high blood pressure or high cholesterol, you my need meds for your serotonin and/or dopamine levels. (I have never found a med that I could cope with, but you may have great success.) Depression and anxiety are real illnesses. Don’t judge people who take a pill for depression because I know you don’t judge those who take a pill for diabetes.

People have told me that they didn’t know I have issues with depression. Should I be glad that it doesn’t show? Should I be proud that I’ve hidden it well? It’s not something people often discuss in polite company. Most shy away from mental illness conversations. There’s a societal stigma that we’ve done something to deserve this or we should be able to “snap out of it.” People who have never experienced it can’t possibly understand.

As Christians, we often think that we can’t feel that way. How can we love and serve Jesus and still be depressed? But I often am. I know others struggle too. Maybe it’s just our fallen world. Perhaps it’s our thorn we must bear.

I think it hurts more now that I am a Christian. But Jesus helps me bear it.

I feel more acutely aware of others’ pain. I think that’s seeing with the eyes of Jesus. And if I hurt like this, what must He feel?

And what can I do about it?

Recommended Resources:

My friend Amanda tells it like it is. She’s not scared. I hope this book helps you like it helped me. Here’s my review post of it. I highly recommend it and there are some great resource links in it too.

An article: Homeschooling through Depression

Also read about how we use essential oils to help with our moods.

Here are some books and Bible studies that have helped me.

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