My Trial by Fire

Because of a new friend's willingness to share a story dear to her, I felt inspired to more openly share mine. Her ordeal, her tragedy was the unfortunate and untimely death of her first born son. My trial wasn't a tragedy. In fact my ordeal has actually made me stronger. But my trial is still very real.

Depression and anxiety have a way of disrupting life in ways a broken leg or pulled muscle can't. An x-ray or MRI can reveal the faintest fracture or smallest tear. Unfortunately no diagnostic equipment exists that can detail the full extent of a soul lost amid the clouds of depression. The cure for a broken limb is much simpler and immediate. Not so much for depression and anxiety.

LIFE IS GOOD
     January 1999 arrived and my life was good. While I had yet to reach many of the goals I'd set for myself, I had few complaints. I was a student at BYU. I was dating - no one in particular, but I was dating. School was going well. I had a fun job as a security officer at school. We had just welcomed my first niece to the family. I was happy. And had every reason to be so. Each morning brought excitement, hope, and renewal. Every evening ended with reflection and gratitude. Life made sense. 

All this would change. It didn't happen overnight. I've often wondered how I would have dealt with my ordeal had it occurred so suddenly. Clearly the Lord knows me well. 

CONFUSION AND FEAR
     In my case, things gradually began to become blurred. In many ways I could feel my happiness slipping. Not so noticeable as to become worried and alerted. More like a dripping faucet. A few slow drops here and there aren't reason for concern. But as time passes, and you begin to see how much is actually lost. As I became more aware of my mood changes and increasing sadness, I thought I was maybe just in a rut. No big deal, I'll just change things up and presto, happiness restored. If only it were that easy. 

As days and weeks passed, my level of happiness was plummeting. But why? Nothing drastic had happened. I was healthy, or so I thought. My family was doing well. Good things were in place. Maybe I needed to pray more fervently I reasoned. I could increase the quality and quantity of my scripture study. But none of that seemed to help. That frustrated me.

Shortly after all this began, I moved back home to my parents as my lease was up. Maybe that would help. Nope.

The one thing I found out during this time was, while I could fool myself into believing everything was alright, I couldn't trick those closest to me. They would ask how I was doing. I'd basically lie and say all was well because I wanted to believe it. But I was lying to myself too. How could things not be good? I mean I was a happy person. I made everyone around me laugh and I was a fun person to be around. Now? Not so much. I didn't want to be around myself. In fact, I found it hard to be around anyone. I had a hard time concentrating in class. Work was a drag, and I loved my job. Slowly everything that was always such a positive, now carried a gloom and sadness that I just couldn't reason with. Where life had made so much sense, now that blur was spreading.

At work I found a spare room where I could "escape." In this room I bore my soul. I pleaded with God. And I am man enough to admit, in this room I cried. Why was God ignoring me? Couldn't He see that I was hurting? Scared even? And definitely lost. I was getting mad. 

Finally after reaching the end of my rope, with little light left to go any further, I went to see my dad at his office. I sat in his chair, my book bag still over my shoulder. He approached me with his same optimistic face. He asked how I was. Finally I could no longer lie any more. And I didn't want to. I told him we needed to talk. But not in his office. 

We went down the hallway and sat on a bench. I tried to form the words, but nothing came out. He sensed that this was not a hallway conversation. He got his keys and we went for a drive, parking in the shadows of the football stadium, by a grove of trees. With the engine off, it took me a moment to form my opening statement. I finally told him I was lost. And with it the tears came. He listened. And while I don't recall everything I told him, he listened. He cared. He loved. 

We drove home. Again I don't recall what all I said or if I said anything. 

When we got home I just rocked back and forth on the couch. My mom would be home any minute. I would get to tell her too. She would wonder why my dad was home so early. Thankfully dad told her what was happening. Nothing made a lot of sense to them. It sure didn't to me. But they were in a better state of mind to make heads and tails of things. But mom simply came, hugged me, and ensured me that things were going to be ok. I believed her, but I still didn't believe myself when I said it. I guess placing my hope and faith in others would have to be a start. 

That first night, I slept on their couch. Dad slept in a chair across from me. Mom took the second night. Evening was my favorite time. But yet I still feared it: when sleep finally comes, you can escape the stumbling and fear of your confusion. But it's the time between being falling asleep and being asleep that sucks. The mind will not shut up. It just races and runs. And not in structured, established paths. Randomness and chaos is more accurate. And then morning comes. I feared mornings. I hated mornings. I had to face life again. As I could feel my body beginning to rouse, the fear of reality would strike. 

NEW HOPE
     On day two or three we went to see my doctor - one of many saviors in my life. In the waiting room, the anxiety was winning. To deal with the stress of waiting, I again began to rock back and forth (a technique I would use again and again). Dad had me flip through a magazine instead. How many times did I leaf through it? Doesn't matter. It helped.

Finally we were called back. Dr. McClain began to ask questions. Mom and dad did much of the talking. I looked at the floor. And I rocked back and forth some more. He finally told me he was confident I was dealing with some depression and anxiety. And it was real. He went on to explain that he was on medication for the depression as well. Knowing he is a doctor and in a bishopric helped. He then told me something that really helped: he said that God loves us. As such he has allowed certain things to be developed to help us, to be used for our good. Antidepressants included. He added that if we deny ourselves something that can help us, is in a very real way we sin. He stopped short of calling it a sin, but I caught his point.

Knowing I had medication I could take was therapeutic. Just knowing that I could find solace in something that on the surface might bring immediate relief, was in and of itself medication. But the real medicine was already within me and around me and more was yet to come. 

That same day mom and dad went to the temple with me at my request. It was amazing. I cried some more and I never cry. I was so excited to have some hope restored, I bought some temple clothing right after. We also had a chance to speak with one of the counselors in the temple presidency. He explained some things and assured me life would shine again. He also asked if I would like to work in the temple. Of course. But that blessing would have to wait a while. First things first.

With this renewed hope, I headed home. The medication was a morning, nightly process. You start small so as to ease your system into accepting it. I didn't like that though. I wanted relief and recovery now. Patience.

The next day I was excited to head back to the temple. This would be a setback of sorts. I had a horrible time and I couldn't wait to get home. I can't explain it, but I wasn't as far a long as I hoped I would have been. In fact, I felt I had been dealt a big blow to my recovery. 

I slept on their couch for a full month. For some reason I felt safe there. After my temple experience, and even with the medicine increasing in my system, things seemed to be worse than before. I basically slept . . .  when I could. Ate, what my stomach allowed. And avoided pretty much everything else. This went on for that full month. But the fog persisted. That blasted fog!

RECOVERY
     June came. I was on the couch. My parents and little brother were in their backyard preparing the ground for sod. I wandered over to the kitchen table. In the state I was in I became good at one thing: feeling sorry for myself. That and laying on the couch. Both are easy and in many ways comforting. It was the one thing I felt I had control over. But they don't require anything. 

As I sat there watching my family toiling in the hot June sun, I continued this pattern of feeling sorry for myself. And I didn't care. But then suddenly something happened. Out of nowhere I received a spiritual kick in the butt or knock to the head. I heard something tell me to go outside and pick up at least one rock. Quite honestly I don't think I had been outside for the better part of that month. I was safe inside. I had my sanctuary on the couch. But I couldn't ignore this prompting. So I went outside, found my rock and placed it in a pile with the others. I'm not sure if that was the only rock I picked up, but it was a start. My mom would later tell me that she had picked that day as the day she was going to start practicing some "tough love." When she saw me pick up that rock, she knew I was coming back.

Within a few months or so, the depression began to taper off. While I was on meds for both depression and anxiety, it became clearer to me that the anxiety was the greater cause of my struggles and pain.

SPIRITUAL MEDICINE
     After some tweaking to my medications, I had good moments; not days, but moments. At this point, I welcomed these good moments. Strung together we were nearing good days once again. But the real medicine came in non-capsule form: visits and phone calls from friends. Concerned neighbors and former roommates. A visit from my boss. Loving family members. Prayers and more prayers. And staying the course when nothing made sense.

One telling moment of the difficulties associated when depression came on a sunset walk with my dad. I did a lot of walking and pacing during those days, especially at night. On this particular walk, I was following directly behind him, walking in his footsteps. I was oblivious to everything other than my current woes. Noticing the sunset, my dad said, "Isn't that pretty?" I raised my head to see it and said, "I know it's supposed to be but I can't say that it is." How I wished it would be once again.

As each day passed, I made more and more progress. There were long nights and early mornings. There was lots of hoping and wishing. More tears. More anger and frustration. Slowly I began to see that sunset. I was able to return to work and school. I soon didn't struggle being in crowds again. I saw happy moments return. I even began to date again. 

It's important to understand though, that just like the gradual change to anxiety and depression, the rise back to happiness wasn't instant either. That what wasfrustrating. So often I reasoned I could simply force a change. Many time I felt that the next morning everything would be back to "normal." And each and every morning I would wake to find things the same. But throughout everything one thing remained constant: I never wavered in my faith and love of God. I continued trusting Him.

TODAY AND WHAT I'M LEARNING
     While I don't claim to be any more special than the next person, over 10 years later I am over two years off my medications. Now when I recognize a "sad" situation arising, I don't hide from it, but I also don't dwell on it either. I learned a lot from this experience and I still am.

One incident that opened my eyes occurred after I returned to work at the Museum. I was the jokester of the group. I liked to tease and pull pranks. Because of this personality, many were surprised to hear what I was going through. They reasoned that if something like this could happen to me, when was it going to hit them. I was asked a lot of questions by several coworkers. I never backed down and I was never ashamed. I had done nothing wrong. One friend in particular posed a lot of questions. I finally told her I couldn't answer all her questions as I was only an expert on what I was going through, and not much of an expert even then. A few weeks after this encounter she approached me at work and informed me she'd been to her doctor. She also told me she'd been diagnosed with depression as well. Then she opened her personal journal and had me read the opening lines of an entry. I'll never forget what I read. It said, "I thought of taking my life today. But I realized that it's okay to fail now and then." She chose to fight and she won. 

What else is this experience teaching me:

--I learned to be less quick to judge; to be quicker to give the benefit of the doubt. We don't always know what someone is going through. And even when we do, ours is not to judge but to show compassion.

--There must be a balance between all facets of our lives. The spiritual, the physical, the emotional, the social and so on. Each has their place and each must be nourished. Where one is neglected or begins to atrophy, the net result is that the others weaken as well.

--I learned to speak my mind and face my worries and concerns. To ignore them helps no one. They are real and need to be resolved. Any container can only hold so much before they begin to spill out. As each concerns arises, it must adequately be dealt with and resolved. Looking back at the possible causes of my anxiety and depression, a myriad of factors arise. Prior to all this I fixed everyone else's problems. But never my own. It's kind of like the spiel you hear and see while on an airplane. The part where they explain if the cabin loses pressure to place the oxygen mask on yourself before you help anyone else. In everyday life, that was a hard lesson to learn.

--I learned that happiness is a choice. While decreased serotonin levels are real and contribute to depression, we all deal with the rigors and uncertainties of life.

--There is great purpose for our trials and everything happens for a purpose. Ours is to survive, to thrive, to endure. It then is our prerogative to discover the purpose. As time passes, the true purpose may slowly reveal itself and we will find that 1) we weren't ever alone throughout it, and 2) it wasn't just for us. Others were blessed and affected in ways they never could have imagined. Opportunities for service we extended.

--There is nothing wrong with needing medication. I was reliant upon it to a point and early on. But I am also so thankful for those who developed it.

--I further strengthened my testimony and love for my family and church. I have the most amazing family and I belong to the only church with the fullness of Christ's living gospel. As stated, these were my spiritual and most beneficial medications.

--Present, Patience, and Positive became my motto.

--One of the greatest blessings is the fact that I'm still not done learning. While I haven't in any way had any thing resembling a relapse, and nor do I think I ever will, the lessons keep coming. I view each day as a blessing. While I never contemplated suicide, there were days when I didn't care whether I lived or not. Now I am not only grateful to be alive, but I am equally grateful for having had the experience. Naturally I hated every minute of it while immersed in it.

--There will be more to come . . .

Be Good!

Happily Ever After Doesn't Always Start that Way

During the course of our days, there will enter into each life special and amazing people. People who wow you within minutes of meeting them. People who possess a certain aura that seems to engulf those who greet them. People who inspire us. After meeting these souls, where upon departing, even if together for only a passing moment, you can't help but feel that you are now somehow a better, changed and improved person.

Rarely do these people innately possess all the qualities that make them the special people they are. What sets these incredible souls apart, is they've become great after a trial of their faith.

I have yet to encounter a single soul who has yet to face some sort of life changing, life altering ordeal - be it illness, divorce, or death. It appears no one is immune and for good reason. But from life's afflictions emerge two unique sets of people: Survivors and Thrivers.

While it is ideal to belong to either group, there are distinct and important differences separating the two. Both during and after an ordeal or trial, Survivors merely continuing living, never truly learning from the experience; frequently bemoaning their fate, while ever playing the victim's role - rarely recognizing the opportunity for growth now having passed them by.

         Thrivers on the other hand choose to change their lives after emerging from the refiner's fire. Thrivers become examples for others in how to truly learn and grow, how to do more than survive. For Thrivers,"Arise and Win," "Never give up, Never quit," "Beat all Odds," aren't just mottos. These are instilled elements, infused into their very being, their character. Thrivers don't rely on motivational posters for guidance and direction. Instead Thrivers are the inspiration for these posters.

Where Thrivers adapt, survivors react.

               Both survivors and Thrivers may question WHY during the trial, but whereas the survivor is content for the trial to be over, the Thriver asks and seeks for what can be learned from the experience and then shows gratitude to the Lord for carrying them through. While neither enjoys the journey, the differences continue: Survivors blame others for their woes, search of excuses, and curse the heavens; Thrivers accept the situation with pride, search for ways to improve, while thanking the Lord and praising the heavens. Survivors exist. Thrivers live!


All this is not to dismiss the progress and growth of Survivors. But whereas all Thrivers are also survivors, not all survivors become Thrivers. Becoming a Thriver takes time and faith. It doesn't happen overnight and in no way does becoming a Thriver mean an end to misery and woe. The good news is, through God and Christ, all may Survive and all may Thrive.

        From person-to-person the trials might be similar, but it is important to avoid comparative woes. We are all unique individuals. As such we possess different abilities and strengths. And because of our differences, we respond differently to the woes and trials of our days. But within all of us is the ability to choose to become survivors or Thrivers.

For whatever the reasons and regardless the trial, the opportunity to learn and grow from life's unexpected occurrences is not only a privilege, but an amazing opportunity. 

During these difficult and trying moments we might desire our challenges to more closely resemble that of a favorite movie: The typical film begins with a plot involving the cast of characters. Within the plot some element of conflict is introduced and along the way there are twists and turns with other adventures and misadventures; a short two hours later and it's "happily ever after" for those in the story - well, at least for most. Even the events of a lengthy book can change by the simple act of turning a page. Fortunately, and yet at times frustratingly, life isn't like these two examples. The duration of extremity of our trials, coupled with our strength and resolve, contribute to our growth and future strength. It's not just about getting up again after the fall; it's getting up, moving on, but never forgetting.

I've certainly experienced my own trials and I will share one of them in my next entry. But for now I wanted to share a few examples from some people special to me:


The prophet Nephi surely experienced his share of ordeal and heartache. In 2nd Nephi chapter 4, Nephi bemoans his current, temporal state, citing his personal weaknesses and sins: "O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities." He expresses woe due to sinning: "I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily abeset me." And while he doesn't precisely detail these sins, he still shows his humble human side: "And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins . . ."

And then Nephi enters into a new phase of his Psalm. He exits his momentary solace of woe and misery and arises, expressing his strength found only in the Lord: " . . . nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted. My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep."

My grandmother was paralyzed from the waist down after contracting polio in the 1950s. Many were dying while medical professionals feverishly worked to find a cure. At the time, it was not uncommon for the healthy spouse to abandon the ill spouse, often leaving the children too. My grandma witnessed this one day and when my grandpa arrived for a visit at the hospital, she told him to forget her and take their two young sons and begin a new life. Civilly married at the time, he no doubt was taken back a bit. But grandpa lovingly replied, “No, we were married for better or worse and it’s going to get a whole lot better.” Maybe he was a bit optimistic, but more likely he possessed such great love for his wife and had such deep faith in the Lord that he could see beyond the present, gloomy struggle and envision a bright and glorious future together. Shortly after her release from the hospital, they purchased a home near Provo, UT. To accommodate grandma’s wheelchair, they had to completely remodel the house. She also lost her ability to give birth, so they adopted two girls among many foster children they watched after. Vacations took an extra bit of effort, but grandpa didn’t want her to miss anything, even if this meant carrying her where wheelchairs couldn’t go. Later they would be sealed in the temple and by the time she passed away 46-years and 15 grandchildren later, their nearly 50 years of marriage was a model example of love and compassion a husband and wife should have for each other. But it was a prime example of making lemonade after life gave them lemons. I asked her before she died if a cure was developed which would restore her ability to walk, would she accept her. Her response surprised me. She said she would only if she could retain all she had learned from her new life. She had learned too much and would hate to lose that new found knowledge, strength, and growth.

Another inspiring example is that of the Prophet Joseph Smith. In the winter of 1839 Joseph and others were illegally imprisoned in the cruelly named Liberty Jail. After detailing all the horrors that Joseph had already experienced and those which may yet come his way, came these comforting words from the Lord in response to Joseph's pleas: 

And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good (Doctrine and Covenants 121).

After suffering repeated injustices, Joseph certainly must have wondered why. How much more was he to handle? And if God was aware of him and still cared. The purposes behind what we perceive as “delayed” blessings in our lives have great purpose: We may not be ready today for the blessings of tomorrow. Soren Kierkegaard said, ". . .  life must be understood backwards. But then one forgets the other principle: that it must be lived forwards." And I like this quote: You can't spend your whole life planning what'll make you happy tomorrow or you'll never be happy today. You've got to do it now. 


During these trying times, the knowledge that we all are children of God, that we have a Heavenly Father who knows us and loves us, is the most important and fulfilling sense of belonging we can have and the impact on our self worth is invaluable, priceless. As we learn who we are and that God has a plan uniquely and lovingly tailored for us all, we will begin to find joy and happiness even in our darkest moments. During these moments we must use that precious gift of faith to carry us through. We must learn to trust the Lord, rely on his provident hand, and accept His ways. As we do so, our hearts open and we begin to see and even love as He does. 

Thrivers take their new found strength and then apply it to all facets of their lives. They don't seek the easy way. They don't ask for allowances or pity. But yet they remain humble enough to accept the help of others. They refrain from asking, "What's in it for me?" They humbly challenge life, without waiting for life to just happen. Underdog is just a title, not a status in life. Thrivers are champions and conquerors. They ask, "What's next?"

In the eternal scheme of things, life is but a single heartbeat, a mere blip. But within that heartbeat occurs so much. And while we can't fully control what happens too us, we are in complete control in how we respond to these events - in how we live that heartbeat.  

It's your life . . . how will you live it?

Be Good!