"This Song Saved My Life" (Very personal post)

I've been debating for a couple of weeks whether or not I could write this post. It's so intensely personal and difficult to talk about.

Some of you will be familiar with this but most of you will not. I have thought long and hard about it but I feel like it just really needs to be shared.

Those of you on Facebook may have noticed that for the last week or so I have been posting links to World Suicide Prevention Day (9/10/12) and National Suicide Prevention Week which is occurring right now. Some of you may be sick of those posts. Some of you may wonder why it matters so much to me or even in general.

Five years ago this month, I attempted suicide. I was 19 years old and had just graduated high school that June. In a misguided cry for help after struggling with intense feelings of depression, anxiety, worthlessness, and despair,  I swallowed a bottle of pills.

Crying hysterically I called my Mother and best friend to ask for forgiveness. Finding it more difficult to stay coherent I realized what I had done. Slipping in and out of consciousness I heard a voice saying "Jessica, NO."

Alone in an unfamiliar place, I then managed to call 911 and was transported to a Seattle area hospital where I went through the difficult and disgusting process of swallowing charcoal to rid my body of the toxins of the pills I had taken.

I was able to go home that night but the feelings of hopelessness were still there. I spent several days shaking, crying, and wondering whether or not I should have bothered calling 911. At that point I asked my parents to take me to another Seattle area hospital so I could voluntarily check myself into the Psychiatric Ward and undergo emergency treatment consisting of therapy, consults with social workers and psychiatrists, and finding a decent medicine regimen.

It was one of the best decisions I ever made... during a time when even the simplest choices were so difficult for me.

Depression was nothing new to me. I had been struggling since I was 14. I had spent several years undergoing invasive medical testing and procedures to try and determine what was causing me severe pain and recurring sickness. The lack of answers and the continued pain largely contributed to my feelings of depression and hopelessness. I missed 1/3 of my senior year of high school by being in and out of the hospital, I had to quit running Cross Country and Track which I loved and had been good at. I stopped playing the cello. I often stayed home locked in my room. I put on a happy face with friends.

I didn't ask for help or admit how much I was hurting emotionally apart from the physical pain. This led to my spiraling out of control in September of 2007.

Fast forward exactly 6 months and I was back in a hospital. This time I was in Rexburg, ID attending school and had just become engaged. Severe pain and odd symptoms had led me to the ER when I couldn't make it to class. Finally a doctor recommended I see a gynecologist after noticing strange results on a CT scan. Within 24 hours of seeing this OB/GYN I was having emergency surgery. When I woke up he had the answers I had been looking for. I was diagnosed with Endometriosis. It explained the horrible pain I had been suffering and I was able to seek treatment to minimize it's effects on my day to day life.

A few months later I again went through a deep depression but with the help of a loving husband I found a good therapist and again adjusted my medications. I went about four years without having another really bad bout of depression. It was being managed carefully and even though some moments were a struggle I was okay overall.

This June everything changed. I began to slip. I had not been on any medication while pregnant fearing what it could do to the baby. Despite that and suffering from a high risk pregnancy my moods were in check apart from the normal hormonal related quirks.  5 weeks after he was born (this June) my doctors reintroduced my body to my medications. It takes weeks for the body to adjust to them and to see a difference. They were not helping. Sometimes I would  leave the house only once or twice a week. I took care of the boys and that exhausted all of my energy. I had none left to care for me. I was suffering panic attacks, general anxiety and feeling very low.

My doctors scrambled to try to help me but nothing was working. I had postpartum depression. I had not had it after my first pregnancy and had been warned before that because of my history of clinical depression I could develop it. This time, I did.

I felt so guilty. I had two beautiful sons, a fantastic husband, a nice home, good friends and family...but I was miserable. I could not even articulate how I felt. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat. By July I was unraveling faster and faster.

One night I couldn't sleep at all. I knew how much medication was in the cabinet in the kitchen. I knew that a high enough dose of one in particular could be fatal. I never left the bed but I couldn't stop thinking about what was in the other room and that maybe it would be better to feel nothing at all. Surely nothing was better than the intense emotional pain I was experiencing.

Intellectually, I knew it was very wrong. I knew that I never wanted to leave my husband or my children. I knew that it would cause pain and devastation to those around me. I knew it wasn't really the answer. I knew I needed help but I was scared to admit what was going on in my head.

I feel like there is still such a sense of shame and social stigma surrounding depression and admitting one has it or needs to be on medication for it. It can be embarrassing and difficult to talk about. People are often judgmental. People want you to just "snap out of it" or "go for a walk" or "deal". Depression is a disease. Like other ailments it needs to be treated. Left untreated or when treatment doesn't work we run into the cruelty and heartache of suicide.

I told my husband I needed help. Within hours we were on our way to Seattle so my parents could watch our boys and I could seek treatment again with the same specialists I had trusted when I was a teenager.

I spent five days in the hospital going through the same kind of rigorous treatment I had experienced almost five years prior. The doctors, nurses, therapists, and even the other patients were amazing. It was a safe zone. There was no judgment. There were only people wanting desperately to help and once again give me the will to live and have hope.

Having depression means sometimes taking things day by day. It means learning to speak up. It means knowing when to get help. It does not make you a bad person, a broken person, or incapable of happiness in life. We all deserve to love and be loved.

I sat in my room in the hospital one night. I had requested a radio so I could try some meditation and writing. Not having lived in Seattle in quite some time I could not remember what stations were good and didn't really know what I was in the mood for. Idly flipping the dial I came across the middle of a song. I didn't know who was singing it or what the title was but I went completely still and just listened as tears fell down my face.

I had turned it on just in time to hear these words:


I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make

Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts we got Yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end you're still my friend, at least we did intend for us to work
We didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not
And who I am.

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
Still looking up... 

I won't give up on us
God knows I'm tough, He knows
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it

I now know that it was Jason Mraz and the song is "I Won't Give Up". I believe hearing that song at that moment was a tender mercy from God showing me that I was not alone, that I was worth it, that we are ALL worth it. There is so much we can learn every day if we open ourselves up to it.

In that moment I began writing every little thing I was grateful for, every little thing no matter how silly or small that makes life worth living. The list got to about 120 things and it really hit me how much I have and how much really is at stake. My list covered everything from my family, my friends, my religion, to sparkly toe nail polish, polka  dots, bubble baths and chocolate satin pie. The big and small all add up to a life and experience worth having.

I am doing so much better now. I am on the right dosages of medications, I started running again ( I even plan on running a 5k next week), I am back in school studying what I love most (history and anthropology), I started writing again, I got a new job, I have the right doctor, and will begin counseling again soon. My doctor last week was very pleased with what she called 100% progress.

It doesn't mean I am "cured". It doesn't mean I don't struggle still. It means there are days when I have to fight to have the motivation to do what I need to do or even to get out of bed. It means being able to communicate my feelings and letting people help me.

That is why WSPD and NSPW are so important to me. Because I am alive. Because there were people who did not give up on me. One organization holds a special place in my heart and that is To Write Love On Her Arms. I discovered them while I was a teenager and attending Warped Tour and listening to bands that are active participants in their cause. They are geared towards  helping young people in particular overcome addiction, cope with depression, and in raising awareness to the issues of suicide and mental illness. They have many universities involved  as well in providing support and awareness to the students of those campuses. In fact, I am in the process of seeing if we can get a TWLOHA UChapter at Boise State.

I hope that by posting this at least one person will be helped. At least one person will find the courage to admit they need help and seek it.

Today, the challenge presented by TWLOHA for NSPW was to change the stigmas of mental health. I hope that this post can help in that.

This week I heard a new song that I felt was so fitting for my experience with music and for the feelings I have dealt with.

None of us are alone. Face your fears, embrace your dreams, and remember to always have hope.