Sharayah Doty (@gimelli_Arte)

This post is raw and reality for too many. It was not written to gain sympathy. It is written because someone out there needs to know they are not alone and there is ALWAYS hope.

Have you every heard or read about the death of a family member, friend, or acquaintance that died from suicide?  I am sure many of us have. What are the thoughts that went through your head? Did you wonder why you didn’t notice depression?  Did you think if she had just said something to you?  Did you think, “How could she do that to her family and children?”  I know I have thought those exact things. 

The truth is, if I had known, I probably would have done a lot of wrong things. Maybe I would have thought she was simply wanting attention. Maybe I would think she was joking. I am sure I would point out all she had to live for and tell her she doesn’t really mean it.  Maybe I would be so callus to point out that her life isn’t that bad and maybe she was just premenstrual.  It is sad but most of us do not have the right words to say to a person suffering from depression. Why? Because what we do not understand scares us.  Reading the signs and symptoms of depression is confusing because each depressed person doesn’t show the exact same signs and symptoms. 

A few years ago, I had one of those life events that leaves your soul shattered, your heart broken, and your world so out of control.  I would like to say I clung to my faith though the days, weeks, and months to come.  Trust me, I tried.  I tried…alone.  About six months later, the lies of Satan were becoming louder than The Word. It started slowly at first. I wouldn’t pray, couldn’t pray.  I focused on the pain. I began to tie God’s hands.  My husband suggested I go talk to someone. Seriously, I am the strong one. I am the one people come to when they hurt and are in need.  Besides, I know all that psychology stuff. I can do this alone.  

The truth was I was struggling to even get out of bed, dress myself, and do the things I needed to do. I had no motivation to homeschool my children. Every chore felt like climbing Mt. Everest. My mind could not conceive of making dinner or stringing two sentences together. I had anxiety attacks leaving my home. I never told anyone. I did write. Then would reread what I had written and grow evermore weary.

Fast forward a couple years and the darkness has all but diminished the light. I am filled with despair, hopelessness, frustration, impatience, anxiety, and totally stuck there.  Stuck in darkness. I have limited my God to a speck. I am consumed with fear and the lies of the enemy.  Still, I tell no one how much I hurt. Yes, I have great friends, a best friend, and an amazing husband. I didn’t trust that they would believe me when I told them where I was spiritually.  It wasn’t them, it was me. Fear of looking like a failure kept me from being honest about my depression.

About seven months ago, I started having suicidal thoughts. They would come out of nowhere reminding me of what a failure I was. I was an impatient and harsh Mommy.  A distant and distraught wife.  A friend with walls.  The thoughts became more frequent as more details riddled my mind.  About six weeks ago, I had had enough. I didn’t want to hurt anymore and I didn’t want to hurt my family anymore. I left for work that night knowing I had kissed my babies for the last time.

Throughout this time, I kept seeing a painting on Facebook.  It was painted by a friend of mine. The picture always seemed in 3D to me, as if the darkness was coming towards me.  I knew I was falling further into darkness, but I couldn’t see the light. I couldn’t even see it in her painting. 

As I drove to work that night, I was in tears and angry at God for not stepping in as I had begged Him to do for years. Demanding to know where my burning bush was. I had driven behind the same car for at least a couple of miles when we stopped at a light. There it was.  A simple bumper sticker. My burning bush. My literal “sign from God”. It read, “End Suicide, There Is A Choice”.  I took a picture because I thought surely no one would believe me. I cried harder all the way to work. I could see a light from that speck I had limited God to.

The night after the “bumper sticker”, I made the hardest text of my life to my Dr.  I simply typed that I was having suicidal thoughts. I could write a whole blog on the events that had to line up for me to even have this woman’s private cell number. I saw her the next day and started to be able to see that small speck of light more often throughout my days.  Later that night, I had a dream. I was surrounded by darkness and evil. I could see the light slipping away just like the light dimming to a pinhead on an old black and white TV. Ironically, I felt at peace for the first time in a long time. Just when I thought the light was going out, it burst forth hitting me in the heart and literally waking me up.

It is so easy as a Christian to think, “that could never happen to me”. It would be easy to point out how many godly men in the Bible were depressed and they made it.  How many times have we said, “You just need to find Jesus.” as if He is lost.  “She must not really be saved.” Satan isn’t stupid, he knows right where to get us. He knows when we are tired, hungry, angry, and lonely. He knows when we are at our most vulnerable. We can NEVER let down our guard against him.

I am going to counseling, trying to get better, peaceful sleep, was baptized by my husband, talking a lot more to God, and finding joy each day.  I am open to medication if I need to. Today was a very happy day. Not happy because things went my way, because they didn’t. It was a happy day because my soul is finding rest in my Daddy.

I have learned that Jesus can not just be my Savior. He can not just be my Lord. He is my Creator, the lover of my soul, and He must be my everything.  I have learned that there is much beauty in brokenness. If you don’t believe me, look at a glow stick.  You take it out of the package to find a dull tube. It’s beauty doesn’t show up until you “break” it and shake it really hard.  2 Corinthians 4:9 says that we are “persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

My God is making these broken, weary bones rise to dance again. A few days ago I was at my artist friend’s home. I finally saw the light in her painting. It was there all along, I was just too blind to see. It is her painting above. To see more of her amazing art, visit www.instagram.com/gimelli_arte.

I pray that if anyone reading this finds herself in this same place she will not trust her feelings. She will make that difficult call or text. She will find her beauty in the ashes of despair.  There is always hope, especially in our darkest moment.