My Story Of Depression
I've been wanting to write about my story for months....but wasn't quite sure what to write. This is such a delicate subject, and not just for me, but I think for everyone on this earth. You simply utter the word "depression" and the mood changes in the air. It's a very real, very horrible thing that is on this earth.
I recently watched the movie "Ragamuffin" it is a documentary of the life of Rich Mullins, the writer of many popular worship songs. Throughout his entire career he suffered with loneliness, drinking and depression. Watching this movie encouraged me to share my story that I've kept quiet for a year now. It's time to tell more than just a few people, it's time to share with everyone and show them what Jesus did in my life. So, here goes....my story, and not even my story, but a story that belongs to Jesus.
______________________________________________________________________
I don't remember how old I was, maybe 13, 14? Nothing happened. There was no "one thing" that just popped out at me and sent me into my pit of darkness. All I remember is the darkness and the breakdown.
My grandmother found me on the floor of my bedroom, hyperventilating and unable to speak. Shaking uncontrollably, full of a dark emotion that was sucking the very life out of me. I was so lost, so unsure of what to do. I was so confused. All my life I had been brought up in the church, in the Light of God, and yet here I was, withering away in this darkness that slowly crept its way into my life. My parents were out of town and so my grandma called the pastor's wife and she did something that I will never forget.
She told me it was okay. She held me and told me that what was happening was okay. She didn't tell me I was sinning, that what I was feeling was wrong, or that I was broken beyond repair. She simply held me in her arms and told me it was okay and she prayed over me.
Brennan Manning, an author known for his book "The Ragamuffin Gospel" says this, "God loves us as we are, not as we should be. Because none of us are as we should be."
I called my mom that night to tell her what was happening and she told me "Nina, you can get through this. I've been there before. Pray and God will see you through."
Let me tell you something, that place was so dark. That time was so dark. I remember these sporadic, terrifying moments, where I just broke down. Even to the point of physically hurting myself once.
I can guarantee that the only way I got out of that dark time was the prayers of my mom. I was so lost, I didn't know who I was or what was happening to me. All I knew was that I desperately wanted God to save me. I was and am a ragamuffin.
Ragamuffin// (noun)
-An unsung assembly of saved sinners who are little in their own sight and aware of their brokenness and powerlessness before God.
-Someone who knows he's only a beggar at the door of God's mercy
So, that was it, I had some spells here and there but then just like it silently came, it silently left. I went back to the carefree, joy filled life I'd always lived. Things in life still happened sometimes, I was still sad during things and numb during other things. But, my dance with the devil in that area had ended....or so I thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So fast forward...many of you know the story. I had decided to become an intern in Haiti. I was going to live there and work with a sponsorship program. But, what many have never heard, is this side of the story.
It started when I began packing. I was cleaning out my room, and when I say cleaning, I mean actually cleaning. Going through EVERYTHING. Packing things in boxes, putting them in sell piles, the whole thing. As I was going through my things I found pictures, notes, gifts from my friends and family and right then and there I began to cry. To think of all the amazing people I was leaving behind. I was terrified. But, I pressed on because I knew this was what God was calling me to do.
So, I traveled to Georgia for some training and then set off for Haiti.
Now, this part of the story may be a little blurry for me, and hard for me to recall, but I will try and show it for what it was with the things I do still remember.
“When you're lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you've just wandered off the path, that you'll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it's time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don't even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert
I can't exactly remember why, but instead of staying up in the house I was supposed to be in I constantly went down to the lower house to work. Maybe the wifi worked better, maybe I didn't feel as alone? I'm not entirely sure, all I remember is being down there everyday.
I remember being sad when I first arrived, but shrugged it off as just a side effect of moving out of the country. I hadn't realized how low I was sinking until the sadness never went away. I woke up every morning and pasted a fake smile on my face. I praised God in church, I laughed, I shared my story with others of how I ended up in Haiti. But deep down I felt nothing. I was empty. Not just spiritually, but physically as well. I had stopped eating. I would eat little bits here and there, only to hide the fact that I wasn't actually eating. If someone did notice I would make up excuses such as "my stomach hurts" or "I ate a lot for lunch and I'm not very hungry." I was literally withering away into nothing. I remember just sitting at work, staring at my computer screen with tears streaming down my face. The family I was around while working just accepted me for how I was.
I was and am so thankful for them. They hugged me when they sensed I needed it, their daughter listened to my deepest darkest thoughts and they helped me in any possible way they could. They never gave up on me.
I will never forget the things my mom did for me as well. Though miles away, she constantly sent me comfort, advice and prayers. Even though there was a point that I pushed her away and would not message her.
Something I've learned about people with depression through my own experience, is that we don't want you to fix us. We know that we're broken. We know that something is wrong with us and that we do need fixed. But we don't need you to remind us. We just need you to be there to hold our hand and to pray for us.
"Telling someone to focus on the good things while they're depressed is like someone asking you to find the light switch in pitch black dark. You try to find it, but you stumble around in the darkness a bit before your hand hits it and the light can be turned back on."
-Nina Wilson
Thankfully the only physical hurting I did at that point was deprive myself of food. I'm not saying that what I did was right, I'm just saying that if given the choice, I would've much rather starved myself the first time then cut myself with an earring. If I remember correctly, I actually forced myself to stay away from sharp things, since I knew what my weakness was and I didn't want to go back to that, even if it did soothe the pain on the inside.
I cried a lot the first month. Sometimes alone on my floor, curled into a ball, and sometimes in front of people.
That's another way I knew that what was inside me was a lot darker than I had originally thought. I don't make a habit of crying in front of people. It's not my personality. But, I was so numb at that point that I didn't even care. I hid my tears from the countless teams that visited us, but when around the other missionaries I didn't care if they saw my real mood. Even seeing my darkness, they loved me and helped me. They got me started on coloring mandalas and listening to worship music while doing so, and to this very day I still do this. Coloring helped bring me the peace I so desperately needed. Mandalas have been prescribed by therapists for years and at first I thought it was the silliest thing ever. But, there is something to be said about sitting down and using colors in your place of darkness. To feel nothing but black on the inside, yet be able to create beautiful patterns with something on the outside.
When I color mandalas now, I mainly do it for the enjoyment, but I would be lying if I said it no longer brought me peace that I sometimes still feel I need.
Around the same time I was fighting through all of this, I ended a friendship.
A toxic one.
Now, some may think "well that was probably easy for her to end." But, it really wasn't. Though toxic, I was extremely attached to this friend. And, ending it was no easy task, and in the end it only added on to my depression.
I remember walking through a hall one day, tears flowing so hard I could barely see. I fell to my knees and crawled to a room, with the last bit of strength left in me, I lifted myself onto a bed and whispered a prayer for sleep. That I could just sleep and forget the world, the pain.
"but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."
Isaiah 40:31
You know, it was hard to admit to myself that I was suffering from depression. The devil constantly filled my thoughts with negativity. "What kind of Christian are you that you can feel so numb?" "Are you even following God?" "How could a missionary be depressed? You should just go back home."
But there's something my mom said that rang true. "Nina," she said, "sometimes you just have to fake it until you make it."
And so, that's what I did. I asked a fellow missionary to hold me accountable to eating. I listened to worship music 24/7. I did mandalas every night, and sometimes during the day if I needed an extra boost. I talked to my mom everyday and spent nights alone praying for peace. I listened to a song by Bethel Music called "It Is Well" a lot. Some days, even face down on the ground singing through the tears. I didn't just walk with Jesus at that point in life. I flung myself into His arms and begged Him to carry me knowing that I couldn't take another step.
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you."
-Mark Stevenson (Footprints In The Sand)
I recently watched the movie "Ragamuffin" it is a documentary of the life of Rich Mullins, the writer of many popular worship songs. Throughout his entire career he suffered with loneliness, drinking and depression. Watching this movie encouraged me to share my story that I've kept quiet for a year now. It's time to tell more than just a few people, it's time to share with everyone and show them what Jesus did in my life. So, here goes....my story, and not even my story, but a story that belongs to Jesus.
______________________________________________________________________
I don't remember how old I was, maybe 13, 14? Nothing happened. There was no "one thing" that just popped out at me and sent me into my pit of darkness. All I remember is the darkness and the breakdown.
My grandmother found me on the floor of my bedroom, hyperventilating and unable to speak. Shaking uncontrollably, full of a dark emotion that was sucking the very life out of me. I was so lost, so unsure of what to do. I was so confused. All my life I had been brought up in the church, in the Light of God, and yet here I was, withering away in this darkness that slowly crept its way into my life. My parents were out of town and so my grandma called the pastor's wife and she did something that I will never forget.
She told me it was okay. She held me and told me that what was happening was okay. She didn't tell me I was sinning, that what I was feeling was wrong, or that I was broken beyond repair. She simply held me in her arms and told me it was okay and she prayed over me.
Brennan Manning, an author known for his book "The Ragamuffin Gospel" says this, "God loves us as we are, not as we should be. Because none of us are as we should be."
I called my mom that night to tell her what was happening and she told me "Nina, you can get through this. I've been there before. Pray and God will see you through."
Let me tell you something, that place was so dark. That time was so dark. I remember these sporadic, terrifying moments, where I just broke down. Even to the point of physically hurting myself once.
I can guarantee that the only way I got out of that dark time was the prayers of my mom. I was so lost, I didn't know who I was or what was happening to me. All I knew was that I desperately wanted God to save me. I was and am a ragamuffin.
Ragamuffin// (noun)
-An unsung assembly of saved sinners who are little in their own sight and aware of their brokenness and powerlessness before God.
-Someone who knows he's only a beggar at the door of God's mercy
So, that was it, I had some spells here and there but then just like it silently came, it silently left. I went back to the carefree, joy filled life I'd always lived. Things in life still happened sometimes, I was still sad during things and numb during other things. But, my dance with the devil in that area had ended....or so I thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So fast forward...many of you know the story. I had decided to become an intern in Haiti. I was going to live there and work with a sponsorship program. But, what many have never heard, is this side of the story.
It started when I began packing. I was cleaning out my room, and when I say cleaning, I mean actually cleaning. Going through EVERYTHING. Packing things in boxes, putting them in sell piles, the whole thing. As I was going through my things I found pictures, notes, gifts from my friends and family and right then and there I began to cry. To think of all the amazing people I was leaving behind. I was terrified. But, I pressed on because I knew this was what God was calling me to do.
So, I traveled to Georgia for some training and then set off for Haiti.
Now, this part of the story may be a little blurry for me, and hard for me to recall, but I will try and show it for what it was with the things I do still remember.
“When you're lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you've just wandered off the path, that you'll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it's time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don't even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert
I can't exactly remember why, but instead of staying up in the house I was supposed to be in I constantly went down to the lower house to work. Maybe the wifi worked better, maybe I didn't feel as alone? I'm not entirely sure, all I remember is being down there everyday.
I remember being sad when I first arrived, but shrugged it off as just a side effect of moving out of the country. I hadn't realized how low I was sinking until the sadness never went away. I woke up every morning and pasted a fake smile on my face. I praised God in church, I laughed, I shared my story with others of how I ended up in Haiti. But deep down I felt nothing. I was empty. Not just spiritually, but physically as well. I had stopped eating. I would eat little bits here and there, only to hide the fact that I wasn't actually eating. If someone did notice I would make up excuses such as "my stomach hurts" or "I ate a lot for lunch and I'm not very hungry." I was literally withering away into nothing. I remember just sitting at work, staring at my computer screen with tears streaming down my face. The family I was around while working just accepted me for how I was.
I was and am so thankful for them. They hugged me when they sensed I needed it, their daughter listened to my deepest darkest thoughts and they helped me in any possible way they could. They never gave up on me.
I will never forget the things my mom did for me as well. Though miles away, she constantly sent me comfort, advice and prayers. Even though there was a point that I pushed her away and would not message her.
Something I've learned about people with depression through my own experience, is that we don't want you to fix us. We know that we're broken. We know that something is wrong with us and that we do need fixed. But we don't need you to remind us. We just need you to be there to hold our hand and to pray for us.
"Telling someone to focus on the good things while they're depressed is like someone asking you to find the light switch in pitch black dark. You try to find it, but you stumble around in the darkness a bit before your hand hits it and the light can be turned back on."
-Nina Wilson
Thankfully the only physical hurting I did at that point was deprive myself of food. I'm not saying that what I did was right, I'm just saying that if given the choice, I would've much rather starved myself the first time then cut myself with an earring. If I remember correctly, I actually forced myself to stay away from sharp things, since I knew what my weakness was and I didn't want to go back to that, even if it did soothe the pain on the inside.
I cried a lot the first month. Sometimes alone on my floor, curled into a ball, and sometimes in front of people.
That's another way I knew that what was inside me was a lot darker than I had originally thought. I don't make a habit of crying in front of people. It's not my personality. But, I was so numb at that point that I didn't even care. I hid my tears from the countless teams that visited us, but when around the other missionaries I didn't care if they saw my real mood. Even seeing my darkness, they loved me and helped me. They got me started on coloring mandalas and listening to worship music while doing so, and to this very day I still do this. Coloring helped bring me the peace I so desperately needed. Mandalas have been prescribed by therapists for years and at first I thought it was the silliest thing ever. But, there is something to be said about sitting down and using colors in your place of darkness. To feel nothing but black on the inside, yet be able to create beautiful patterns with something on the outside.
When I color mandalas now, I mainly do it for the enjoyment, but I would be lying if I said it no longer brought me peace that I sometimes still feel I need.
Around the same time I was fighting through all of this, I ended a friendship.
A toxic one.
Now, some may think "well that was probably easy for her to end." But, it really wasn't. Though toxic, I was extremely attached to this friend. And, ending it was no easy task, and in the end it only added on to my depression.
I remember walking through a hall one day, tears flowing so hard I could barely see. I fell to my knees and crawled to a room, with the last bit of strength left in me, I lifted myself onto a bed and whispered a prayer for sleep. That I could just sleep and forget the world, the pain.
"but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."
Isaiah 40:31
You know, it was hard to admit to myself that I was suffering from depression. The devil constantly filled my thoughts with negativity. "What kind of Christian are you that you can feel so numb?" "Are you even following God?" "How could a missionary be depressed? You should just go back home."
But there's something my mom said that rang true. "Nina," she said, "sometimes you just have to fake it until you make it."
And so, that's what I did. I asked a fellow missionary to hold me accountable to eating. I listened to worship music 24/7. I did mandalas every night, and sometimes during the day if I needed an extra boost. I talked to my mom everyday and spent nights alone praying for peace. I listened to a song by Bethel Music called "It Is Well" a lot. Some days, even face down on the ground singing through the tears. I didn't just walk with Jesus at that point in life. I flung myself into His arms and begged Him to carry me knowing that I couldn't take another step.
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you."
-Mark Stevenson (Footprints In The Sand)
After a few weeks I began to feel better. I was different though. But not in a bad way. I've learned that sometimes God has to completely break you down so that you may remember that He is the foundation at the bottom. That is exactly what He did for me! And as He built me up He added on some new layers of strength. I still struggled with being in Haiti, and did some things that I do regret, but looking back I wouldn't have changed it. I've become so much closer to Him, my parents, my boyfriend, my friends. I wouldn't be who I am now if it weren't for the person I was then.
I still struggle, not as much as I used to, but I still have my days and nights. Nights where something makes me so sad I will cry before I drift off to sleep. Days where I wake up and just feel bleh.
But, the difference now is that my depression can no longer win. I gave into it twice, but I pray that I no longer give into it again. I want to give in to Jesus, to His arms. Even if it means that I'm asking Him to carry me again.
___________________________________________________________________
Depression is real. People feel it, or rather, they don't feel anything at all. If you or someone you know is living with it, please DO NOT be afraid to reach out to others. I was at first, I didn't want people to see my weakness. But, you CANNOT do it alone. Don't fight it alone, there are people who will help you. So, please, friend, I've walked that path and I know where it can lead. Reach out to someone you trust and just be honest about what is going on. And, if you need to, even feel free to message me. I will listen, I will pray for you. Know, that He will carry you through. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is Him. We all need Jesus.
I hope sharing my story has brought even more light to this terrible thing called depression.
That others may see that even the people we least expect, at the moments we least expect it, can also suffer from it. I pray that this post helps at least one person, God willing, even more people than that. He delivered me and in doing so brought me closer to Him and strong enough to share my story with you today.
I love you all and am praying for each one of you.
-Nina
So proud of you Nina for sharing this difficult journey. If we can't lean on each other then life would be so much more difficult. Praising God for your witness to His constant care, no matter the path we are on.
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