On Depression and the Gospel of Jesus Christ

I grew up in a solid gospel home. I was born truly, of goodly parents. I remember my home as a refuge, filled with the Spirit. I think one of the earliest ties to feeling the spirit was with music as well— growing up immersed in it.

I guess you can say I was blessed by the Lord, to have a seeking heart. I joyed in hearing the Gospel from a young age. I would seek it out. I loved Young Women lessons, girls’ camp, devotionals. My heart craved the words of Christ. In college if there was ever a fireside I was always so excited to go. I remember feeling surprised not all of my roommates wanted or were even excited to go to those firesides.

I think we saints love to hear big stories of conversion and big experiences. But more often than not, I think a lot of us don’t have those types of stories to tell. Mine is one of those stories. My testimony was formed drop by drop. I don’t remember one big a-ha moment. I just remember that every time I was taught by a righteous influence, usually my Young Women’s leaders, it felt as though I had a cup that was near empty, and they had filled it almost to the brim or overflowing once the lesson was over. When I was in high school, I remember feeling as if my life truly depended on those weekly fillings of my cup. I was so blessed to be taught by righteous influences.

I became a CNA when I was 16. We’ve been told to strengthen feeble knees.. and there was nowhere I felt I was doing His work more than when I was caring for those widows at that care center. They had Alzheimer’s, and I absolutely loved them. It was hard work but I felt so close to God doing it and that realization pushed me to become a Nurse. I went to the Y and got my degree. I met Josh my last semester there, (on Tinder!). 

I worked at the Huntsman, and we welcomed our first child into the world a few years later. 

As I studied the most recent General Conference talks, I found 23 references to hearing Him. I learned a few things:

-Hearing him is an opportunity, a privilege, a choice, an ability, and something we have to learn

-We need to make the effort 

-In order to hear Him, you must be still.

-Each of God’s children deserves that opportunity.

-His voice is clear in the scriptures.

That last one is one of the most clear ways I learned to Hear him. I LOVED THE SCRIPTURES. I still love them. The Tangible, hold-in-your-hand scriptures is where I get the most filling of my cup. I also love studying the conference talks on paper and not on my phone, writing notes and impressions as I go.

I also learned to Hear Him Through private prayer, I loved to pray aloud as I commuted from work or school. 

I heard His voice in the counsel of loved ones, and especially the testimonies of others. 

However, I have come to learn through hard experience that Hearing Him does not always come so easily. It is truly so personal, and a continual process. I have one major example of this, and so I will touch upon where I left off, the birth of my first child. 

Becoming a mother was one of the most rewarding and fulfilling things of my life. 

It was also absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done. 

It felt akin to as one of my closest friends puts it, a train being derailed.

I was struck with debilitating PTSD, anxiety, and eventually, depression. I want to point out that the way I “heard Him” in that time of my life was drastically different than the ways I just described. 

In the words of Jane Clayton Johnson (Her book: Silent Souls Weeping), ”Depression is difficult to describe even when you’ve experienced it yourself.”

Ann Madsen has described it like this: “I couldn’t get out of it. It was like I was in a sack and somebody had tied the top and I didn’t know how to untie it. I couldn’t get out…

I felt like an Etch-A-Sketch. I created this beautiful picture on my Etch-A-Sketch of who I was. Somehow it got shaken. That picture got erased. I was down to nothing.”

I was exhausted. For me it was just a hopeless, dark hole, where even doing the smallest things like washing a baby bottle just really required a ton of effort. I felt broken.

My ability to feel the spirit was cut off, I couldn’t feel anything. This was such a stark contrast to my entire upbringing until that point, where I used to soak up the Voice of The Lord like a sponge. I would come to my meetings with my little empty cup- hold it out feebly, and it would not fill. I would leave my meetings as I started. That was shocking. In a doctrine that promises that the Holy Ghost can be a constant companion, I had never felt so alone. 

I myself bought into the stigma associated with Depression, even as I was experiencing it, even now still, as I stand before you.  “In this Gospel, “we believe in a plan of happiness, not a plan of depression. We’re taught, ‘Men are, that they might have joy’ (2 Nephi 2:25) Depression doesn’t fit readily or comfortably into such a construct.”

My heart takes courage as I learn of those “who in the words of Prophet Joseph Smith, ‘search[ed] .. and contemplate[d] the darkest abyss’ and persevered through it— not in the least of whom were Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Elder George Albert Smith, the latter being one of the most gentle and Christlike men of our dispensation, who battled recurring depression for some years before becoming the universally beloved eighth prophet and President of the Church.” [Silent Souls Weeping]

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has said, “…no one can responsibly suggest [depression] would surely go away if those victims would just square their shoulders and think more positively.”  

Depression is a disease, not a character defect, or a lack of will, or a spiritual deficit.

Still, I felt like a failure, and found myself trying to square my shoulders and think positively. Maybe if I could do more, then I would be worthy of the spirit. I thought surely, I wasn't reading the scriptures enough. My prayers were not fervent enough. I didn’t go to the temple enough. If I could do more, then I would somehow earn some spiritual enlightenment.

Thank goodness my husband was inspired to find this book, The Power of Stillness, which first few chapters completely changed my life, and my perspective on this “more” mentality. 

It reads,

“Sometimes, following God may actually involve doing less, rather than more, with value in making space for periods of retreat, as Jesus Himself did.”

Instead of 'finishing' a prayer, it can become a sacred practice of personal retreat where we can simply be still, maybe even not saying any words, simply trying to 'rest in His presence as we kneel, in stillness and silence,' remembering that we are His. 

Instead of 'getting a chapter done,' we can hold scriptural text as an anchor to focus our minds and hearts, and facilitate an ongoing exploration about God’s hand in our lives. 

Instead of checklist items to be done, these can all be thought of as opportunities to be still."

I began to exercise self-compassion, and rely fully on God’s Grace, allowing what I could give in that day, that moment, that hour, be simply enough. This mentality greatly comforted me. 

My recovery was a long one. It took time, medication, blessings, an incredible support system, and focus on nutrition, exercise, and rest. I had to start small, drink enough water. Avoid sugar. Go on a walk. Slowly, I got better. Slowly, I was able to wean off of the medication. I began therapy. I have never looked back. It completely transformed my life. I am so grateful. For a long time I still felt that inability to hear Him and at times I still have to “go through the motions.” I often think of Nephi, "nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted. O Lord, I have trusted in thee and I will trust in Thee forever.” I keep trying, and that is enough.

Life is a process.

Lead, Kindly light, amidst the encircling gloom, lead Thou me on, 

the night is dark, and I am far from home, 

lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet, I do 

not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me.

-I have to accept in those moments that for the time being, one step is enough for me. 

-The Lord requires your best, and your best changes. That is okay. 

I find so much hope in Paul’s testimony in 2 Corinthians 12: 

“And [the Lord] said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Mostly gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore, I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).

“Silent Souls Weeping” reads, “It’s okay. It’s okay to be a mess. It’s okay that you dread church. It’s okay that you don’t feel like anybody can relate to you. And it’s okay if every time somebody mentions missionary work you just want to run out of the room and curl up in a ball and cry. It’s okay to live in a place of pain for a time, and if the pain doesn’t go away, that doesn’t mean that you’re not doing your best.”

From Terry & Fiona Givens (Book: The Crucible of Doubt): 

 

Christ works through us as we accept Him and God the Father as the architects and ourselves as the builders. Learning to be vulnerable and show up as we are can be painful, but it fosters humility, teaches us beautiful lessons, and contributes to the building of the kingdom of God.”

“It is not our place to judge. It is our place to love. It is our place to grieve. And it is our place to mourn with those who [mourn]." [Silent Souls Weeping]

I want you to know, we need you, all of you, we love you, God loves you. If you are currently struggling, We want you here, we need you here, living and breathing, even if it is a “broken” you. Especially so! You’re doing the best that you can, and that is enough. 

Elder Holland states (Conference talk: “Be Ye Therefore Perfect… Eventually”):

“Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him … ,” Moroni pleads. “Love God with all your might, mind and strength, then … by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.”9 Our only hope for true perfection is in receiving it as a gift from heaven—we can’t “earn” it.

The Lord Jesus Christ Himself continued “from grace to grace”15 until in His immortality16 He received a perfect fulness of celestial glory.17 

I echo the words of Elder Holland: "I testify that in this and every hour He is, with nail-scarred hands, extending to us that same grace, holding on to us and encouraging us, refusing to let us go until we are safely home in the embrace of Heavenly Parents. For such a perfect moment, I continue to strive, however clumsily. For such a perfect gift, I continue to give thanks, however inadequately. I do so in the very name of… Him who has never been clumsy or inadequate but who loves all of us who are, even the Lord Jesus Christ."

I know the Lord loves each of us, and consecrates our efforts, no matter how small they may feel. I know my Savior Lives. He is truly full of infinite mercy and grace. He will consecrate our efforts to be like Him! Step by step, Grace by Grace we can return to Him. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Yours Truly, Kait, July 2021

May 8th, 2014: "Two Hondas"

It was pouring rain outside, and I had just ended a very long and very unhealthy relationship. Six years of being strung along, placed on the shelf, and I had finally mustered up the courage to walk away. I was shaking after it happened, because it was such an emotional milestone for me, something that took months of mustering up the courage and resolve to do, something that required me to step out of myself and realize a few harsh realities, something that ended in only a few minutes and left me feeling powerful and broken and brave and solemn all at the same time.

It was time for my intramural soccer game. I took everything boiling up inside me out on that ball, and I felt so free. People actually commented on my playing-- because let's be honest, I was never gifted in the sport of soccer.  But that night was different.  That night I had guts and guster.

I was invigorated, free. I felt strong and sexy and as soon as the game was over I sprinted out to my car, the key getting kind of stuck in the door as I tried to unlock it.

I jumped inside and tried to start my car.  Nothing happened.  The key was stuck.  I tried everything, pumping breaks, jiggling the steering wheel, using my wrist to get the keys to turn, but they simply wouldn't.  I called my best guy friend-- my dad--tried everything he suggested... still nothing.  I enlisted the help of two young strangers, and they tried for a solid ten minutes before telling me, maybe the key is just chipped, maybe we should drive you home to get your spare.  So that's what we did. I left my soccer bag on the seat, locked the car, and went to follow these gents to their car.  As I stepped out and back, I realized that an identical Honda was parked right next to my car.

Wait-- no, identical Honda?

Try my Honda.

Seriously Kait?

Oh well. It was raining and I was in a hurry, didn't even think to check "my own" license plate.

Crisis averted!

Except for one thing-- now my soccer bag was in some random guy's car.

Explain that one to him?

I drove my own car home to grab some homework and the guys watched my bag (with wallet inside) while I was gone.  When I got back, the car was gone, and they were waiting there to give me my stuff.  They said the driver of the Honda was pretty annoyed that some random chick's bag was in his car.

The end.

February 12th, 2014: "On Doubts and Days"

Here's the thing. There are people constantly telling me that life doesn't add up, it never turns out the way you expect. You imagine it to be one way, and then it turns out to be completely different. It doesn't measure up to your expectations.

This used to really trouble me. Especially when people started telling me that marriage was going to be hard, and that you spend all this time dreaming up how great it'll be and then one morning wake up and feel at a loss. But you know what? I don't believe them. Call me young and stupid, but I believe in dreaming anyway. I know my life isn't going to be all rainbow and butterflies. But it sure as hell is going to be beautiful anyway.

I believe in seizing the day, because today is all you have. And I believe in believing the best days are yet to come. I believe in the magic. It's just a name for something we don't really understand.

And really when it comes right down to it, maybe my life won't be magical. Maybe everything I could possibly imagine could go wrong, will go wrong. And I may end up having a really rough go of things. Maybe I'll be widowed at 32. Maybe I'll get cancer. But it seems to me, that all the losses in this life will turn into gains eventually... I believe in Karma and I believe in good chi... I believe that the things in store are far greater than any fabrication that any human mind can even attempt to generate.

There is a reason we can't see the future. The only thing we can do is have faith in ourselves and our future, and to look up, and realize that the future is as bright as our faith.

The best days are yet to come. So if you don't mind, I'm just going to keep on dreaming. I'm going to keep on planning. And I am going to set it all up, and when God decides that He's going to turn my life upside down and send me careening on a different path, well, I'm gonna hit the ground running in that direction, and simply trust in it all. And it's going to be beautiful.

In Which I Fail at the "Ring Check"

So I gave my number to a married man this week.

Let's talk about it.

I am in charge of utilities in my apartment, meaning, I have to go to the bank at least once a month and deposit three checks into my account. On these such occasions, over the past 5 months or so, I often struck up a conversation with one of the tellers there. I thought he was cute, but didn't act on anything. And by usually struck up a conversation, I mean this only happened like, three times. (I did do the finger-check, you guys! There was NO RING.)

Well the other day, I went inside for the first time in a while, and struck up maybe my fourth conversation with this said teller. He commented on the fact that I hadn't been in for a while, and that I usually go through the drive through nowadays. Now he had done it-- he noticed that sort of thing! It was time. So, I did what any sensible girl would do, and I decided to, you know, give him my number. I marched out of that credit union, got in my car, and began writing. I didn't even know his name. I got out a little piece of notebook paper and scribbled some short thing about how this might be unprofessional but that I didn't care-- here-- folded it up-- and addressed it. "Teller #0017482" or whatever his number was (it was on the sheet that he had just printed out after depositing my checks. I know, I'm a genius, right? uhh.).

So I thought it was pretty romantic. I drove up to the window, stashed the note inside, and sent it on up the tube, driving away without even looking at the person who ended up opening it. I knew it would end up where it needed to.

So about week goes by. At this point, I assumed he had a girlfriend or simply wasn't interested, and had forgotten the thing. The dating scene is all about putting yourself out there, and when it doesn't work, who cares, right? You move on. I was not very crushed.
Well then I get this text.
"Hey, is this kait?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I was totally flattered to receive your note..."
[insert fluff]
"..but I didn't call back because I just got married about a month ago. I didn't want you to feel totally rejected or anything like that, because you are sweet. So hopefully you're not embarassed..."

hahaha... oh. my. gosh.
In my defense, I had done the ring check in the past. I only saw him briefly this time, and wasn't thinking to check again. The thought never crossed my mind!

So that's the story.

And now I have to go back to that bank. If it wasn't pretty hilarious, it might just be the most awkward situation in my world. But you know. At least it makes a good story (I feel that a solid 75% of my life experiences end up with me telling myself those last seven words, just to make myself feel better).

Ladies and gentleman, do the ring check more than once. Things can change fast in this here dating scene.

And that's all I really have to say.

This Girl

"True friends are always together in spirit. (Anne Shirley)"

-L.M. Montgomery

Two (ish) years ago I decided to embark on a crazy, incredible adventure. In the process I met this girl.

I guess it would be fair to mention here that I believe in kindred spirits. How could I not?

I love a lot of thing about our friendship, but here are some of the memories that stick out:

-Toughing it out in the woods of Oregon, and by "toughing it out," we went through an entire bottle of lighter fluid

-Ice Skating in a blizzard on Kreshatyk

-Our little hole-in-the-wall chinese runs

-Our late night talks. (sometimes she was just hit on the head with a ton of energy at 2 AM, rare, but hilarious).

-That one time we came within inches of hitting a deer, and laughed for a good solid 10 minutes afterward.

-The day we just layed out on the porch in the rain and stared up at the sky.

-Doner Kabob's in Ukraine. We were bottomless.

-Getting the worst seats on the plane to Stockholm, and laughing about it the entire way.

-Her face when she accidentally ordered "Chai" (tea) instead of what she really wanted in Kyiv

-When we decided we really needed to strip ourselves from pride and watch the last "Twilight" movie, simply because we were camping in the woods where it was filmed

-When she made me sing Taylor Swift's "22" on my 22nd birthday

-When we tried to make Gourmet french toast, and instead we ended up with soggy bread

-Her love for peanut butter (she bought me a brand new jar when she had only eaten a few spoonfuls of it)

-The way we both tried so hard to be healthy and then would just forget it and go to Cold Stone

-Singing as loud as we could to the radio in the car

-The fact that we never fight (except for a tiny bout of craziness that happened just before her wedding, but we both realized we were stressed out of our minds, and came back to ourselves, and all was good.)

-And lastly, how happy she was on her wedding day, and how irrevocably happy I was in turn to see her marry someone who loves her like she deserves.

Ukraine was difficult, but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her in my life!
She claims that I was the one who saved her, but I am convinced it's the other way around.
She's my person, and as much as I miss her, I keep reminding myself how lucky I was to get to spend the past 7 months just a bunk-bed-away from her.

Ya Lublu, Britiskaya. Can't wait to fly out to GA and visit you this weekend. <3<3